Content Warning: Adult situations! Suggestive dialogue!
I’m a modern woman, but I haven’t been the best at acknowledging my needs in a modern way. When it comes to meeting men, I always thought clubs were best. When the booze is flowing and the beats are pounding, there’s no better recipe for sweet seduction.
…Or so I thought, anyway.
After years of unsatisfactory encounters with men of unsatisfactory physiology (you know what I mean, ladies), I thought maybe I’d finally give online dating a shot. It took me this long to consider it an option because, wow, can you really get to know a person you haven’t interacted with face to face? And the horror stories I’ve read! Wow! Some of you have really been through the shit, haven’t you? At the same time, though, I know it’s been successful for so, so many women. I didn’t figure I had much to lose; I’m more than well equipped to take care of myself.
Let me tell you, setting up that first profile was quite an undertaking! Turns out I had no recent pictures of myself to post up – or at least ones that would tempt the most mouthwatering manflesh (rawr!) – so I turned to every girl’s best friend and worst enemy: the selfie. I put on one face, then another, then another. It takes hours to make sure everything is properly smoothed out and blended for optimal physical appeal… but I also don’t want to look too eager, either.
It took less than ten minutes for my inbox to fill up with messages. Unexpected, though not unwelcome! Sadly, though, most of them seemed like real duds – only after one thing. A few wrote up graphic stories about acts they wanted to perform on all my holes. I don’t even think a human female body has that many! Also? At least buy me dinner first, right? Geez! Thirteen of them even sent me photos of their “meaty appendages.” And nothing else. Sorry, but I’m more of a thoraxial region kind of girl (you continue to know what I mean, ladies).
The worst, though, was the number of men who opened their conversations by telling me everything wrong with my face. I won’t tell you every name they called me because I’m a lady, but it wasn’t uncommon to get told I was “gross,” “ugly,” “hideous,” and that my “eyes looked crooked.” Oh, please! As if everyone’s face is perfectly symmetrical! Let me tell you, some of those men weren’t supermodels, either, but I didn’t tell them so. Harumph!
I waited for three weeks and almost gave up when HE sent me a PM. I won’t give you his name – let’s just call him Gorgeous – but he opened by asking me my favorite breed of moth! He actually read my profile! Imagine that! Obviously, I told him tersa sphinx and GET THIS!!! He told me…… *drumroll* …. the white-lined sphinx! After that, Gorgeous and I chatted for hours online before switching to the phone. Talking about life, the universe, and everything.
One thing led to another. We knew we needed to meet up. Stat.
Luckily, both of us had open schedules the next day. Even though sparks were definitely flying, we both agreed that coffee would be the safest bet. In case things didn’t work out, there wasn’t too much time or money invested.
Ha! Fat chance! Gorgeous really lived up to his nickname is all I’m gonna say. His conversation skills didn’t hurt, either. By “conversation skills,” I mean “abdominal region!” Ha! But no, really, we hit it off as well in person as we did online.
When he invited me back to his apartment after we downed our macchiatos, I obviously agreed! He only lived a few blocks away from the shop, and on the walk back, our fingers gently, furtively stroked one another. We started making out, hot and heavy, before we could even close the door. His neighbors probably didn’t appreciate all the noise is all I’m gonna say! But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right? Especially since it’s been a while (OK. Quite a while. Don’t tell anyone…)
As he fumbled open his zipper with one hand on my breast, I jammed my ovipositor down his esophagus and plopped my egg sac directly into his jejunum.
Between the bursts of blood and bile about his mouth, Gorgeous attempted to spurt out a few words. I couldn’t completely discern what he was trying to say, but I think I had an idea.
“Oh! Yeah, no. I’m actually autogamous,” I assured him before his right eye burst open and the vitreous body oozed down his face. Exhausted from the effort, I slurped up a few drops with my proboscis for a quick burst of protein.
By that point, I figured the night was probably over. On my way out, I caught sight of his bathroom in my peripheral and noticed that he hung his toilet paper in the under position. Ugh. Total dealbreaker had I known about it first.
Despite last night going so well, I’m not sure if I’ll keep doing the online dating thing. Too many weirdos out there.
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