Semi-approval from a porn fiend's semi

From the Department of Things Normal People Just Know But I Had to Learn by Having My Day Ruined*: Don't read online comments, SPECIFICALLY the ones on porn featuring women of a similar size/shape to you.

"Not bad for a chubby chick," says some 45-year-old serial masturbator in his mother's basement. 

If I ever write a book, I want "Not bad for a chubby chick" to be the review blurb on the cover. Wait, actually...yeah, that'll be the title. 

If I may borrow from a Chris Rock bit: "Yeah, I got a gut -- there's some good pussy under this gut." Can you say the same about your dick, Rando Calrissian?

* Kidding -- my day can't really be ruined by people who comment on porn.

Time does NOT heal all axe wounds

I'm a big believer in time healing all wounds when it comes to relationshits. 

But no one mentions how time can also phantom-cockblock you when you discover too late in the proceedings that one of your favorite go-to, Old Faithful masturbation fantasies -- the ones you rely on to get you there repeatedly and thoroughly when you can't quite close on your own -- doesn't...fucking...WORK anymore. (This one involved That Guy, but SHUT UP, my clitoris was always happy!) 

Personal growth is bullshit. The bulliest shit there is. (Joking. I just wish I could've somehow gotten the orgasm BEFORE the epiphany.)

BRB, changing my OkCupid profile to say my vagina is now accepting Tribute volunteers. #StuntedSingleton

Masturbation consternation

I was aiming for a quiet, post-work communion with my soulmate, Nachos. But then I saw this, and it was an emergency "Stop, drop, and write" situation. (Not joking: I'm still dressed in work clothes, flopped in dismay on the living room floor, writing this on my phone.) 

Ahem. Ready?

OkCupid tells me I'm an 86% match for a guy whose profile says ONLY that he wants a woman who'll watch him jerk off ("JO," to be exact) on Skype. He assures the reader he's good at holding out, and will finish only when she tells him to.

To his chivalrous credit, he does say he'd also do it in person. *swoon* But he lives in Lahaska, PA, about an hour ass-far north of Philadelphia. Why would I drive that far to watch a guy masturbate? (I love that my first concern is the commute.)

Also, there are no photos in his profile of his face or of his penis -- just his fully clothed midsection with a hand resting on his pants-covered junk. How can I possibly know if I'd want to see you do this? I'm sure he'd send them if I asked, but I'm not talking to a dude who's requesting this and then saying he's "not physically perfect." That's code for "I'm about to watch him wrestle a small and noncommittal dick, possibly in his mother's basement."

Would I get to watch his face as well, or is it just a penile situation? Not getting to see his face wouldn't really do much for me...just a dick gone rogue...

Can it progress to sex? Or are you just looking to indulge that one aspect?

Can I masturbate, too? Or do I have just watch you and then... go home? Do I get anything in return? I know you'll finish when I tell you to, but that doesn't feel like enough incentive for me to contact you sight unseen and be like, "Hell. YES. Let's do this, studhorse." If I asked nicely, I could probably watch any guy I date masturbate. Then I'd get to see his face when he finishes, and we could go get pizza or something.

I wouldn't even LET you come, asshat. You should suffer for not being more forthcoming...tee hee...

Honestly, I wouldn't mind watching a guy pleasure himself once in a while if that's what worked for him. I'd get to see how he likes to be touched, and I can understand how that's a kink. I wouldn't mind being watched, but frankly I can masturbate alone, so you'd best step in eventually. But it's SUCH a specific thing to create a whole online dating profile for. That's ALL it says, that he wants to jerk off for a woman. Not even ON -- FOR.

I should commend him for pursuing his dream, really.

But wow, you really CAN find anything on the Internet.

Neither missing me by my hair nor missing me everywhere...

Seems fitting for Groundhog Day, but with advance apologies to the few readers who emailed me to say I shouldn't waste anymore time in this place...

This is the point in the That Guy cycle when I'm worried we're not actually done -- that I'll let my guard down and then he'll pop up somewhere. It's been a discernible pattern, so much that I'm in a mental fighting stance every time I check any element of my digital existence.

I don't think it's going to happen this time. We weren't exactly kind to each other. And he wasn't trying to resurrect our friendship, which it turns out we never HAD. He was just finally confirming he'd been using my body and affection to make himself feel better, and that I was inadequate in both capacities. (Still a great feeling if you ever get the chance.)

Logistically, I don't see how he COULD pop up. He can still see this page because it's public (everybody wave!). I'm not changing that to avoid one person. (Unless it's, like, Dexter.) But I don't think he's going to "like" anything after I gave him a bunch of shit about liking posts about my body or masturbation.

I think I've taken every other precaution, but I'm still a little on edge. When I stopped speaking to him last New Year's, I don't think a month passed thereafter where he didn't remind me he was checking on me -- a text, blog like, Facebook friend request (to my professional account), a LinkedIn profile view. But I probably said enough that he'll avoid setting off that particular powder keg again.

And we'll just save it for therapy that I still miss him. (Shut UP, I don't KNOW. He told me I "claim dysfunction and use it to explain away being wrong," so...yeah, dibs on that. I was crazy, I thought we were friends -- I was wrong. I'm basically Clarissa right now.)

Oddly, I think I'll relax about all this around Valentine's Day, since that'll be about 6 weeks. I'll aim to spend that day finally unclenched, hopefully in more ways than one, with a movie, a glass of wine, my bombass lasagna, and an obscene quantity of really good chocolate. Ideally with a man under me as well, but I think it'll be a decent day either way. Me and my Valentine "Serenity" -- in all the ways. Shiny.

Hunting the rare and elusive uniporn

Holy shit, you guys. I think I've found some sort of porn holy grail.

Lots of kissing; equal and enthusiastic oral for both parties; no spitting; normal-shaped woman with the cutest tummy curve and a great ass; reasonably attractive man with a big yet non-threatening dick; enough talking/sounds to convey appreciation and a good time being had by all, but no obviously fake, exaggerated noises or commentary; perfect line walked between request and command from both participants; dude moaning a bit in her ear and grabbing her ass, hips, shoulders, neck, and hair; believable-enough orgasms (multiple!) for the lady; and his first move was to bend her over.

And I am just enough of a narcissist to be really into the fact that the woman moves and sounds like I do. 

It's like a unicorn of porn -- it's a uniporn.

Ahem... Um... So... I have to go, uhhhh... take care of a few things... It's pretty important...

(Hey, you fix bad days your way, I fix them mine.)

It's not TECHNICALLY masturbation...

It's freezing in my office today, and my hands are particularly cold. So I've been sitting with my left hand between my thighs while my right hand works the mouse (not a euphemism).

But I AM also bopping along to shitty pop music. With my hand between my legs.

I am a professional.

Also, though...I'm not gonna lie, it doesn't feel BAD. But it's really just to warm my hands.

Mostly.

Like 80%.

I am the greatest feminist in the history of feminism.

I have things to post, but nothing as important as this: 13 Reasons Masturbation Is a Feminist Act.

As you were.

 

Continuing the "bad in bed" theme...

So, funny story: Last night I go to turn on the vibratey bit of the sex toy, and... it doesn't work. It's charged, it just doesn't work. 

I'm trying not to take it personally that even a vibrator can't get it up for me.

#MockCockBlocked 

Men > Toys. But toys are still good.

Texting the friend who sold me the new sex toy: "Just did a test run, and you were right. It's bigger than the one I had. A LOT bigger. I only need men for their tongues and hanging curtains now."

(Kidding, men. I can hang curtains. But I also really like your hands. And your voices. And your weight... Ahem. Sorry, what was my point...?)

On #WhyIWrite

I just learned it's National Day on Writing, so writers are writing about #WhyIWrite. 

So. 

1. It keeps me from masturbating constantly in an asylum somewhere. (Also, I've never looked into it, but the really good asylums are probably expensive.)
2. I am a filthy attention whore and every "like" is like being tenderly and lovingly fingered by Jesus.
3. I have almost no other skills.
4. You weirdos seem to enjoy it.
5. I don't know how NOT to write.

What a way to go.

I think I hurt myself masturbating the other day. Either that, or it had been so long since anyone had accessed the region that maybe one's virginity really CAN come back.

Anyway. I'm sharing this disgusting information only because, if this somehow kills me, as causes of death go, "complications resulting from copious and long-overdue masturbation (CALM)" is a pretty great one. Please make sure they put that on the death certificate.

What a way to go.

I think I hurt myself masturbating the other day. Either that, or it had been so long since anyone had accessed the region that maybe one's virginity really CAN come back.

Anyway. I'm sharing this disgusting information only because, if this somehow kills me, as causes of death go, "complications resulting from copious and long-overdue masturbation (CALM)" is a pretty great one. Please make sure they put that on the death certificate.