As you know, I’ve been doing the online dating mating dance, lately. It’s mainly because I can’t stand relationships. I like the first three dates, before he tells you that ‘he really feels a connection.’ ‘Cause unless it’s a fleshy connection, I’m just not interested.
I’m just not emotionally equipped to deal with the inevitable sobbing confession that he was molested as a kid. I’m really just here to see your penis, sir…
I’d rather have no sex than bullshit sex, too.
I’m contented with my own company, so to speak. That’s how ladies say that they own a vibrator.
Men ‘jerk off.’ I’m ‘contented with my own company.’
And, dating these days is getting rougher out there than I’m comfortable with, anyway.
I was actually followed by a man in his car, coming out of the bar, last week by a man that I had politely rejected. I had told him straight out, “I’m sapiosexual, which means I’m sexually attracted to intellect.”
To which he responded, “I’m in construction!”
So, I feel as though he doesn’t speak English. And, I’m totally not bagging on someone who is bilingual, either. It’s not like Spanish was his primary language, and there was a barrier.
This man spoke zero languages. No languages.
Because I had told him, in beautiful English, “I’m sapiosexual, which means I’m sexually attracted to intellect.” And, he still gave it a whirl. So, points for balls…
But, his most learned kernel of knowledge, the piece of his brain he chose to share with me, in the one chance he might ever have to Einstein his way into my hot panties, he chose, at this moment, to say, the ever-popular, “I’m in construction.”
No one wants to suck your illiterate cock, sir. Put your stupid penis away.
Pick up a book. Two books, actually.
We should all be reading a book right now.
I'm Jane Malone.