Public Responses to Private Messages
I'm Erin. I'm single. These are messages I get from on-line dating profiles and the responses they'll never get.
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES #6 - No Face
It’s funny, you know, I’ve noticed a lot of guys using headless, torso only snapshots as their main profile picture. Whenever I see one, I joke to myself “I hope he has a face!” Hahah! It’s funny because of course he does. And of course you do. Although, if we met and you didn’t have a head … just had a neck sticking out of your shoulders like a huge, nail-less thumb, I’d feel very embarrassed. Embarrassed and scared.
But assuming you are a fully-formed human male, head and all, I’m wondering why you used this photo as your main picture. Most torso photos are of guys who are, well, in shape. Guys who, I assume, suffer from extreme sex addiction and unhealthy amounts of narcissism and who fill in the “I’m Really Good At” section with statements like “ preparing tight places to receive large objects”.
But in your case, you, um, how can I put this nicely…. you put up a shirtless, headless photo of your body which is, and this is not going to be nice, actually this is going to be rather harsh, but your body is undesirable. And you know what? That’s OK. So what if you have a gross, undefined pecks/abs/shoulders? We all have things wrong with our bodies. It’s just that most of us don’t lead with that information. I have about 25 scars scattered across my tall lady body from an overly cautious dermatologist who waged a fierce battle against my moles. But I don’t take a photo of each one, put ‘em in a montage and show strangers on the Internet. It’s much more fun to fall in love with someone, get naked, then as he’s wiping semen off my shoulder, he can actually discover for himself that my body is littered with tiny scars. And when he asks about them, I can pretend like it’s not a big deal even though I am VERY angry that this woman turned my body into a skin cancer fishing expedition.
Look, I’m getting off topic. This is not how I’m weird, it’s about how you’re weird. Which brings me to your question.
“Question: If you could choose any country to live in outside of the United States, which nation would you choose?”
I have a question about your question… did you pull it directly from a 1990‘s Miss America pageant? Because what it sounds like, is a question a man in a too-tight tuxedo asks a 20 year old wearing a shiny, princess sleeved gown, who in response, can only smile, because she does not have the geographic knowledge to answer. It does not sound like a question a single man asks a single woman, a woman who wrote an entire paragraph on how heirloom tomatoes helped her understand what it means to be a woman (me, I did that, in case you didn’t read my profile).
And if you didn’t lift it from a pageant, I can’t think of how you could possibly justify using it in an introductory email. What kind of person are you?
You know what? I actually don’t want you to answer. Let me tell you what kind of man I think you are…
I imagine you, sitting in your apartment, bare antique white stucco walls, black brushed metal floor lamp, naked on a Costco leather office chair, slumped over your Dell laptop, jerking off to videos of women in teal sequined gowns, who are too beautiful to succinctly answer questions like “What would you do for mankind?” And when you’re finished jerking off your pale, sickly looking dick, you wipe your weak, green tinted semen off with a black beach towel shaped like a coffin that’s never been washed. Lazily you slide off your chair onto the tan, stained carpet, and decide it’s time for your daily exercise, so you do one push up, which is so physically intense that you throw up four Jimmy Dean breakfast burritos. Lying there, next to your own vomit , you fall asleep face down while your feral cat licks your bare butt.
Did I nail it?
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES: #5 - ARE THOSE FANGS?
Like most men in my life, you’re about to be disappointed. Not only are those my genetically perfect canines, I’m sad to report that I am also a mortal.
Look, it’s not your fault you see vampire traits in normal people. Vampire obsession is ruining our generation, the generation before us, the generation before them, and possibly ruining babies in utero. There’s absolutely no escaping vampire culture… they’re everywhere! Our TV shows, our movies, vampires are even ruining our indie rock (“Hi, we’re Vampire Weekend. We own over four thousand sweater vests and the best way to enjoy our music is to listen to Hot Chip and Peter Gabriel cover it”).
Personally, I’m not attracted to the “vampires” in Twilight, True Blood, or Vampire Diaries, and to be honest with you, seeing set stills of Johnny Depp in “Dark Shadows” makes me want to shut my vagina down for business for good. Until Tom Hardy accepts a role in “Dracula II: Take This Real British Accent, Keanu”, my fantasies will never involve being sucked and fucked by a vampire.
And I know it’s been said before, but these “vampires” aren’t even vampires. Edward in the Twilight series is NOT A VAMPIRE! Sure, he loves blood, but he can go into the sunlight and drives a Volvo! Vampires do not drive Volvos, and certainly not Volvo SUV’s! Those cars are reserved strictly for women, who dress as if they’ll be asked to ride a horse at a moment’s notice, and their children, who learn French before they start kindergarten.
Vampires are supposed to be frightening and monstrous, not weak and sparkly. Calling these characters “vampires” is like slapping a Ronald Reagan mask on a zebra and calling it a centaur.
Also, am I the only one who has a problem with 170 year olds making out with 17 year old girls? Even as a consenting adult, I am not interested in falling in love with someone whose last girlfriend died in the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire. And just because vampires have centuries of sexual experience, that doesn’t mean they’re good at it. Oral sex for women wasn’t even invented until the 60‘s (according to my grandma).
Look, I appreciate you reaching out. But, if you’re looking for a vampire to love, or someone to talk about your vampire love with, I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong lady.
But if you want to talk about how hot zombies are, I might know a lady who could be interested ;)
PS. If you are into zombies, meet me in the cemetery so we can fuck dead people together. I’m there every night 2-4AM.
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES: #4 - CAN I SPOIL YOU?
Oh, wow! Can you spoil me? I mean, it does sound like an amazing offer. Let’s talk this out. So, the situation would be you, a man, showering, me with affection, buying me whatever I want, possibly going down on me on a regular basis, etc. Maybe you fly me to Paris, make me frittatas for breakfast (I can’t believe you can cook!) then propose to me in front of the Great Pyramid. Oh Jesus, I never even knew they made 20 carat diamonds! I say “yes”! Of course I say “yes”, because this every woman’s dream! A year after our first date, we’re living in a wonderful house in Cape Cod and I have everything I’ve ever wanted. But slowly, I sober up after realizing I was drunk on being taken care of. I cry while you’re gone because I’ve lost myself. What happened to my career? What happened to my friends? And the worst part of it all, because this relationship with you is based on diamonds and dinners at Per Se, you feel that you are entitled to treat me like an object.
When neighbors become worried, I blame the moodiness and yelling on your stressful job as a high powered investment banker. But deep down inside, I know that doesn’t excuse why you hit me when the hand towels are crooked.
But I’ve put up with enough! I want to live my life again! Who cares if I have to put my car payment on a credit card? It’s better than living with you, a rich control freak, who one day will not hesitate to slice my neck open with our Gunter Wilhelm paring knife and watch me bleed out on our $10,000 Persian rug … smiling because you know now, no one else will have me.
While we’re out on our boat one night, I fall overboard during a storm, fake my own death at sea, swim back the house (you didn’t know I could swim, did you!), flush my wedding ring down the toilet and escape to Iowa. I become a librarian and fall in love with a sweet man who has too much facial hair.
Sound familiar? It’s the plot to the Julia Roberts’ opus “Sleeping With the Enemy” and had it been released in 2012, it would have started with an on-line dating message just like this one.
While the idea of being a female house pet is embarrassingly tempting to me, even having seen “Sleeping With the Enemy” more times than I care to admit, for my own safety, I’ll pass on your offer.
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES: #3 - A BIT CRAZY
Hi possible future date!
I’m not sure if people would consider me “ a bit crazy”. But how about this… I’ll tell you what I did last night and you can judge for yourself ;)
I went to Gelson’s and picked up a yummy dinner - two bottles of malbec, pre-made tuna salad and rice crackers. Went home, popped off my men’s Nike’s, unpacked the groceries (set them on my desk) and finished my work (looked at porn).
It was 10PM when I realized that I was very drunk and my hands smelled like a gross pier on a sweltering day. At this point in the evening, I had two options:
Option #1 - Go to bed
Option #2 - Dance
Blame Robyn’s “Call Your Girlfriend” and M83’s “Midnight City” forcing me onto my feet and shaking my ass like no one was watching (because no one was. I live alone). I watched myself dance in a full length mirror, wearing a robe over my clothes, for about 30 minutes. Not sure if you’ve ever danced in a heavy robe over a flannel shirt and corduroys, but it can get hot really quick, so I got totally naked, marched in my bedroom and put on a silk party dress, panty hose and peep toe heels. Feeling amazing in an outfit too bold for an indoor lonely dance party was the fuel I needed to dance the night away. I hit shuffle on my iTunes and danced like a three year old at a wedding. The two bottles of wine sloshing through my system made it easy to make every song a dance hit - Journey, Merle Haggard, episode one of Breaking Bad.
But the night, she was a justa getting started! I flung my shoes off and into the floor lamp, grabbed my last glass of wine and my laptop, and headed into my bedroom for a little single lady alone time ;)
I laid on my bed, took off my pantyhose, then opened my laptop. I went to my gmail, did a quick search for sad/angry emails ex’s have sent me, then read them aloud while crying and apologizing for being a terrible human being.
Next thing you know, it’s 8AM, my face is washed, the laptop is plugged in and all my clothes are put away. After I double checked that no pleading, sad emails were sent to anyone, I put my yoga clothes on and walked to the gym like nothing ever happened.
Anyway, I’d love to grab a drink if I sound like your dream woman.
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES: #2 - BIG ‘OL DONGS
If a guy likes my photos, but we have LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE IN COMMON, he will send me an email that is related to my height requirement, which is a minimum stature of 6’.
That being said, I get two types of these e-mails:
#1 I meet your height requirement
#2 Fuck your height requirement
This is an example of #1, with some bonus information… the 1950’s construction worker sexual harassment slang/greaser pick-up line “hung like a mule”.
It’s an interesting choice of words for a person I assume is living in the today’s, so I’d like to explore what he’s expressing by using it.
Let’s assume he’s not so crass as to just write “I’ll split you in half with my huge cock”, so, he thought he’d be funny and write “hung like a mule” instead. While I appreciate the small amount of restraint and sprinkling of respect, the message is the same…I HAVE A BIG DICK. Talking about your massive dong might be a funny thing to talk about with your friends or maybe a girl you’ve been on a couple of dates with who “gets how you like to joke around”, but I’m a mother fucking stranger, which means I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. Which means you also don’t know that I don’t like big dicks.
Believe it. I’ve been with enough guys to fill a yoga class, so I know what I’m talking about when I write in all caps “BIG DICKS ARE SCARY”.
Guys who brag about having gargantuan cocks usually don’t understand the term “too deep”, which a phrase women use when it feels like a dick is about to burst through her uterus, maybe her spine. And because of their inflated ego, well-hung guys don’t care about how having a monster’s penis makes it harder for women to have an orgasm. They don’t understand that because their cock doesn’t fit in anything smaller than the Alaska Pipeline, there’s no body friction, and they need to use their fingers so that the women they’re having sex with can have a fun time too. If a guy brags about having an enormous schlong, and you decide to have sex with him, you can bet on a three-part sexual experience - you and him fucking, him falling asleep as you tell him you didn’t come, you masturbating on the floor of his bathroom.
But, hey, maybe I’m wrong about the whole message he’s trying to send. Let’s assume he was being literal. He’s just your average, tall, nice guy who embarrassingly has an actual mule penis…due to some unfortunate science experiment or genetic mishap. I’m sure it’s a tough thing to bring up with ladies and while I appreciate his honestly, I’m sorry, I still can’t handle a mule’s dick, which looks like this (NSFW).
All around, until you’ve met someone face-to-face, I’d wait a few dates before bringing up your xxl boner.
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PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES #1: THE OUT-OF-TOWNER
This internet stranger used a lot of unnecessary words to express that he would like to fuck me at the end of December. I’m not into out-of-town dick or short-term anything, so I won’t be responding to this. But if you’re a guy, and you’re interested in fucking a girl who you’ve never met before and you’re only in town for a couple of days, here are some more direct things you could email. Sending her the following things might not guarantee she’ll meet you, but if she’s down to fuck, it just might do the trick:
#1 Look, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but I’d like to give you the sexual experience of your life at the end of December.
#2 Just your pictures are making me hard. Imagine what would happen if we were in the same room together. I am.
#3 After Santa Claus comes, I think you should too. And I’m the guy to make that happen. With my tongue.
#4 I know we don’t know each other, but I’d like to take you to the Standard and fuck you for days.
#5 Wouldn’t it be fun to ring in the New Year with my fingers touching you in places you didn’t know were pleasurable?
#6 For Christmas, ‘tis better to give than receive. And I have the perfect gift for you. Multiple orgasms.
These are just some examples of more direct ways to ask for casual, time sensitive sex…because there’s no time to pussy foot around when you’re a guy looking to escape family holiday festivities by fucking a stranger.
