Wednesday, 8 March 2017

Tinder trauma; Why hoes are ruining bros.


So this isn’t necessarily a story, more of an off hand rant at the sake of the ‘looser’ women among us. Having been single now for 5 or so months, I decided it may be time to dip my toe back into the cesspool of deceit that is ‘men’ (no, really, I’m totally over it.) So in all seriousness, I joined Tinder. Now if you are on the hunt for prince charming, I recommend dusting off those disney VHS tapes and doing your thing because honey, you will NOT find him here.

I can obviously only speak from my own female perspective and god only knows what it’s like for the testosteronies out there.
It’s a minefield of fuckboys, one after the other. Now, I am not arrogant, in the slightest but I get a good few matches (yeah, I was shocked too) but really in percentage terms you’ll maybe get 20% who will actually message. Out of that 20%, at least 70% of them are letting their penises loose with their phones to type all kinds of crass meanderings all willy nilly (see what I did there?).

I feel I need to give some examples to emphasize my point here. Please note I am not endorsing this behaviour and much of it made my skin crawl. “You look like a fun-ghi!”-me (given, worst line ever but if they can’t deal with that opener they can’t deal with me, in enters fuck boy) “Do you want to suck on my mushroom then?” Umm no, no I don’t. I might be naive but I was in no way opening up a conversation about your bellend, you’re making yourself prey to mycophiles with reference books. If your ‘mushroom’ is anything like your respect for women, I’ll leave it thanks, it’s clearly poisonous.

“I’ll pay you £5000 to have sex with a dog and let me watch”. 1. NO 2. A simple hello would have worked so much better 3. By the looks of your pictures, you’ve never seen that kind of money in your life.

“I’d like to see you bounce on my dick” and I’d like to see you alight, in a suit, made of paper.

I honestly don’t know if I am different to all other girls in the world but this doesn’t attract me. Nor does a dick pic, my god guys, your genitals are unattractive. Our genitals are unattractive. What you have in between your legs is not a Monet! It’s an ORGAN. I wouldn’t send you a picture of my lung, don’t send me one of your knob.

I feel like media portrayal of the 20 somethings of today (see: Geordie Shore, Jersey Shore, or any other brain cell damaging faux encapsulation of the young and beautiful) makes us all out to be sex mad, crotch picture snapping, ravaging animals. I know I’m not. Life isn’t an episode of Skins, thank Christ.

The minority of women will fuck it up for the rest of us. That’s how it works, they’ll be the girls that have no shame about their sexcapades, they’ll play up to the vulgar approaches of neanderthal men and send pictures of themselves and they’ll brag about the extent in which they're willing to push the limits of ‘vanilla’. I don’t want to be one of those girls, I’m not one of those girls. It seems like a lot of men are now programmed to think we’re all those girls.

At the end of the day, sex is sex, it’s happened since the beginning of time. Your nan did it (sorry, but she did). There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t been done. It doesn’t make you sexy or impressive, it makes you look like a bike. My withering hopes are that by continuing to act respectful of myself, one day I will find someone who is respectful to me.

Boys; would you say it to your mother?

Girls; would you want your mother to know?

Simply put, I’d rather be a #lady than #relatable.


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