Match - Disruption in the Matrix

 In a momentary lapse of reason, I unhid my profile on Match recently and the oddest thing happened.  A lovely, but not blatant scam lovely woman sent me a "like", which I of course responded to.  Long story short, our compatibility was off the charts.  She was a successful professional in the med space.  I'd been perusing profiles for a week or so, before unhiding my profile and did recall seeing hers.  It seemed genuine, although I considered her just a bit out of my league.  Back to the compatibility thing.

1. She wanted to learn how to shoot to get her CCW - I'll be going through the process in a bit myself.  Like Kansas, damned NC requires an 8 hour course that I could teach, myself; but I digress.

2. She wanted to learn how to be a better cook - I've been seeking someone to cook with / for

2a. She loved Indian food and in particular Tikka Masala - I make a fucking awesome Tikka Masala

3. She was looking for advice on buying a Porsche - I'm a Porsche head

3a. "A bunch of my friends drive Cayennes." - I've been mulling over buying a Cayenne

Obviously, some of my interests are present on my profile; I have pictures of me making pasta, shooting, and working on my previous Porsche.  But the Tikka Masala was just spooky, because I don't mention Indian food at all.

Other red flags:

She was over the top excited about meeting me; really over the top.  Capitalizing YOU over the top.

I asked for her number, to which she agreed, but she didn't give it to me.  After two more requests, she said she wanted my number so she could call me.  My sensors had been pinging in my ears the whole time, but the phone thing caused me to disengage and rehide my profile yesterday.  Today, just for grins, I went to reread our conversation to see if I'd been overly sensitive to red flags and she'd vanished.  

That's fucking weird, man.  

While I'm on the subject of dating, I have mixed feelings there.  There's a very large part of me that's just over the whole meeting someone thing.  Perhaps I don't feel my skin is sufficiently thick anymore or more likely, I'm tired of winding up with really fucked up women.  To be clear, I recognize I'm pretty fucked up, myself due to my intimacy issues that caught fire again while I lived in Kansas.  Not to mention I feel like a fat load at the moment.  I've put on a few pounds and the closest thing to working out I've done has been carrying boxes around.  I figure I have some time to think about it because I'm not bringing anyone over with my house littered in empty boxes full of packing material.  Hopefully, packing will be mostly complete end of next week.  Any longer and the damned boxes will become furniture that I don't notice...

Early North Carolina Dating Observations

 Regular readers shouldn't be surprised I'm already scoping out the dating pool in my soon to be new location.  I'm human and therefore have needs for human interaction with and without exchange of bodily fluids.  Those needs have mostly been suppressed for the past four years, but knowing I'll be in civilization soon has them beginning to simmer again.   

Ordinarily, I'd wait for a meaningful data set of experiences before claiming to have any sort of insight, but in just the past 18 hours I've encountered four profiles that included the exact same sentiment; looking for the D to my s.  I've only seen that sort of thing spelled out perhaps four times in the past four years of living here and maybe twice in the decade I lived in VA.  Further investigation will be required before I can legitimately call it a trend, so we'll see.  I think I'm going to really like Raleigh.

Gang Bang Queen - The Final Chapter

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that it took a couple of days to stop smarting over the recent GBQ encounter.  But I'd challenge anyone to not be shocked, taken back, etc. under the same circumstances.  The cherry on the top was, according to trick's review, she displayed more skill at certain things than she had with me.  Either that or he was inexperienced.  Or maybe she only brings her A game when she's getting paid.  I've finally been able to identify what bothered me the most / the actual emotional equivalence.  I think we all have former lovers / partners / etc. who I'll categorize as "not completely eliminated, just bad circumstances"; those who were the stars to realign, we'd entertain seeing again. They live in the back of our minds as potentially unfinished business.  However, there are rare completely disqualifying 'things', that can rip them right out of the category.  When that happens, it almost feels as though that person dies.  That's how it felt when GBQ informed me she was escorting again.  You don't recover from hooking, at least for me.  Regardless, the incident flared the fuck out of my intimacy issues.

For what it's worth, I don't think the move was to intentionally hurt me; more of a completely thoughtless way of saying "hey, look what I'm doing".  It almost felt as though she were proud of returning to sucking dick for a living, which is really quite fucked up.  For the record, I consider sex work to be actual work and I know there are those who enjoy it.  However, to leave a decent paying job to return to sex work is a different ballgame.

In reality, it felt as though she'd reached out because she lacked any real support structure in her life.  However, the more she said, the more it began to feel like a pity party.  She indicated she was done with actual relationships and made comments to the effect that she was where she belonged (I'm not sure if she meant Scotland or on her knees; maybe both.)  She didn't like the US, because of the gun violence and mass shootings.  Because her fiancé blew his brains out five years ago she continues to be triggered by anything gun related.  She said she was working to get past that, when we were dating, so it felt like she was just piling on the pity.  It would be cruel to take the position that she's not allowed to feel traumatized, but she didn't witness him do it and it's clear she's not sought any professional help to get past it.  

She was in full swing about how horrible her life was when I chimed in about her complete absence of  contrition for ghosting me, then a year later, hitting me in the face with her little hooker excursion.  As I previously mentioned, that's when she disengaged.  Fuck, she didn't so much as throw a bit of perfunctory sentiment of being sorry.  Definitely not a hooker with a heart of gold.  If I'm ever that self-absorbed, someone shoot me.

At the end, I just wanted to virtually grab her by the collar and give her the speech.  You're fifty one years old and left a decent paying job to be a fucking hooker.  Beyond sucking dick (which you didn't do that well), you have no transferrable skills that would allow you to stay in Europe and make a living.  It's time to grow the fuck up and face your challenges.  You can either seek help or be a sniveling little bitch, being triggered by everything.  And no, it's not easy being single at this stage in life; it can be traumatizing.  But how many decent men are going to want to be with a woman with a pattern of being a hooker when things get tough?  I sure as hell wouldn't date you again.  Pull your shit together and grow the fuck up.

As a final funny point (as in fucked up, not humorous), I found her online hooker ad, which lists all the services she offers and sure enough, she's available for gang bangs.  Here's the link, if you're so inclined.  (btw, she's about doubled in weight since I last saw her)

Gang Bang Queen for Hire

As of today, she only has one review and her calendar seems to be wide open.  Not much of a whore...

p.s. - I realize my tone is a bit cold on this entry, but I'm out of fucks to give for people who won't grow the fuck up.

A Story For All Times

 While I tend to gravitate toward Top Gun as a timeless story that helps me to understand and address any situation, there's another tale I find particularly useful, from a relationship perspective.  I've decided to share it here.

There was once a man who discovered a tiny baby alligator in his back yard.  Being an animal lover, he was afraid the poor thing would perish, being separated from its mother, so he took it in and raised it as a pet.  This man loved his Ricky unconditionally and lavished it with attention.  He gave Ricky massages and only fed him the best alligator chow.  In order for Ricky to feel like it was in its natural habitat, he had an enclosed lagoon built in his back yard, with a hot tub for when the gator was stressed.  He was positive his love and these gestures got through to the now full grown alligator, suppressing the beast's natural predatory instinct.

One day, he was teaching Ricky how to play fetch, when Ricky decided to fetch him and mauled him to death.  The man awoke at the pearly gates, face to face with Saint Peter.    

"I don't understand how this happened!  I loved Ricky with all my heart and did everything I could to demonstrate my affection."

Saint Peter responded, "What do you expect?  He was an alligator and mauling food is what alligators do, you dumb shit!"

The moral of the story is that regardless of how sincere and earnest your actions, you can't change the nature of another and can lose your head over it.  Literally.   

Fucking Filters

This subject isn't anything new, but I don't recall seeing a proper rant on the topic.  Therefore, I'm picking up the mantel and including it in my Old Man Ranting Series

Technology has delivered to us digital camera technology that yields photos with amazing clarity and resolution.  Today, even cell phone cameras yield superior quality, compared to high end digital cameras of even a few years ago.  With all of this amazing capability, it would follow that dating profile pictures would be crystal clear, but sadly, this isn't the case.  Someone created some filter app (maybe there's more than one; how would I know?) that allows the user to soft focus pictures to felony level, making it almost impossible to distinguish someone's features.  And a considerable number of women are utilizing this filter to laughable results.  Perhaps men are as well, but I don't look at their dating profiles.  Seriously, I've seen so many of these that I almost scheduled a doctor's visit to be checked for cataracts.  The worst are the ones who dial in eye liner enhancements to max level, making them appear ready for the next best horror film and causing small children to cry.

I'm sure most of my readers share my position that these filters have no place on dating sites.   Unless you plan on meeting someone after consuming half a bottle of Don Julio, you want their photos to provide an accurate representation of who you're about to meet.  Perhaps the only exception to posting such photos would be if someone had their portrait done by Annie Leibovitz and she incorporated some sort of filter.  But the most gifted portrait photographer on the planet doesn't use soft focus, so there goes that excuse.  Look, none of us become more attractive from our late forties onward; it's a fact of life.  And try as you might, those filters don't fix ugly, so if you're using them, save yourself the guaranteed ghosting after (or during) your first date.   

Some will never give up their squint inducing fog filters.  I recently saw a profile on the Big T where not only were filters used in the manner I've described, but the woman was positively combative about using them.  Apparently, potential matches challenged her on the subject and she was asserting her right to post pictures that didn't look like her.

While on the subject of filters, if you're past forty years old, leave the fucking snap chat filters alone.  Unless it was a Halloween costume, bunny ears, cat whiskers, etc. don't paint you as playful or fun.  It just screams immature.  Worse yet, the majority of those you love the bunny ears typically run the picture through the Don Julio blur filter first, completely obscuring any facial detail.  A forty something woman that does that screams she's trying to hide ugly.   

Embrace who you are and be proud of it, people.

Scientists and Dating Sites

Because my life doesn't contain sufficient trauma, I continue the on again, off again, dating thing, although to a lesser extent, knowing I'll be moving in the near future.  In any case, I've discovered another trend I think is worth reporting on.  I've only encountered this one on Plenty of Fish and it's a head scratcher.  Over the course of the past few weeks, I've noticed a number of women listing their occupation as cosmologist.  For those who may not be clear on what a cosmologist does (I was a bit vague, myself), they're scientists that study the universe; how it formed, how it's changed, and what exists within it.  What's odd is none of them have advanced degrees and all have pictures with their faces with impeccable makeup.

Yep, there are a bunch of women cosmetologists who can't even spell what they do for a living.

Dating Expectations - Nebraska Edition

 Surfing through my phone, while waiting for my mother at a doctor's appointment yesterday, I found myself on the dating app that reminds you of the material you'd use to start a fire.  One of the profiles I encountered of a woman, who lived in Omaha, Nebraska.  She must have been in KC today, to pop up, but that's neither here nor there.  Her photos were mostly of her dressed up for one event or another, with no casual attire present.  A few years ago, she would have made DPOW for her profile consisting solely of what she didn't want in a man, but the true reason for my taking note is what those deal breakers were.  She stated emphatically that she didn't like hunting and asked what I assume to be the rhetorical question of why so many men posted pictures with fish they caught.  Here profile is here.

I literally chuckled when I read that bit.  

I'm offering what I think is a well-reasoned rebuttal to her requirements:  You wannabe socialite of the flatlands!!!   You fucking live in Nebraska and take issue with outdoorsmen???  Fuck, half the women there have their own photos of fish they caught on their profiles.  If you want a trove of sophisticated and urbane gentleman, MOVE!!!

Now, get off of my lawn...

An aardvark's tongue can grow up to 12 inches (30.5 cm) long.  No, I don't have their number.

Annual Dating Profile of the Week

It's been some time since I've posted a dating profile of the week.  This can be attributed to two factors.  First, I'm not actively looking and second, not much surprises me at this point.  The 'here are all the things I hate' profiles that share nothing about the person themselves, the half sentence profiles...they all run together at this point.  However, I recently stumbled upon a profile that made me stop in my tracks.  

This profile belongs to 'Bibbity' on Plenty of Fish and represents the essence of what Trump and willful ignorance does to people.  Unfortunately, the neither the website nor the app codes profiles as text anymore, which prohibits copying and pasting.  So, much as I'd like to share more of her lengthy profile, there was no way I was transposing the complete raft of garbage.  You'll have to make due with the snippets I did retype, which I did verbatim.  You can see it here - Profile

Bibbity is a 47 year old hair stylist from the same suburb in which I live and says:

If you are covid vaccinated please do not message me.  Im (sic) not interested in being with you...ever.  #mybodymychoice 

Full blown Trump supporter

But honestly if you hate him, please do not message me for as we will have zero in common.  I don't pander to snowflakes in la-la land.  Just tells me you are a follower, going with the flow and can't critically think for yourself.  Big fighter for freedom and truth.

Not only does this ignoramus want to risk getting Covid, but she won't be happy unless you do as well.  Apparently the idiotic hashtag only applies to her and not you, should you wish to date her; and I can't see why you wouldn't, considering her immense charm.  Seriously, I don't recall hearing any of the conspiracy fucktards spouting that being in contact with someone who's vaccinated could be harmful.  Perhaps she's a special breed of idiot.  

I'll skipe further commentary on this section, mostly because it makes my head hurt when I have to read the 'can't critically think for yourself' section.  

And why do people insist on putting hashtags where they aren't searchable?  

She goes on:

Don't send me hunky professional pics all the time and refuse to send a current. I WILL ASK YOU FOR A PICTURE DOING SOMETHING I ASKED YOU TO DO TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE NOT SOME JERK CATFISHING ME. HOLY SNIKEYS!!!!!!! For example... Take a FACE selfie holding a spoon..... 

If a women demanded that sort of thing from me, regardless of whether she was a Trump supporter, I have just the photo I'd respond with.  

Love Is a Battlefield

If you think about it, being a part of a loving relationship has a lot of similarities to guerilla warfare.  No, not between the two of you, but with the rest of the world.  Enemies abound, intent on destroying the union with your partner.  They're both internal and external; some may take the guise of a non-threat.  Stressful jobs, illness, financial difficulties, challenges as parents, death of a parent, the hot neighbor doing her best to insert herself.   The list is almost endless of what can attack a relationship.  

In order for that relationship to survive and thrive, it's important both parties work as a two person commando team, defending from multiple enemies, coming from different directions.  They need to neutralize these enemies, or at least reduce their respective threats, and then get to the chopper for exfil.  Without both parties fighting as brave warriors, working together, and covering each other's flank, the team (relationship) will be overrun and killed.  

I think we've all been in relationships where our 'brother in arms' failed to guard our flanks.  Perhaps, we were the ones who failed in our duties.  Then, there are the all too common relationships that neither have the drive to fight.

And what happens when your teammate gets wounded and can no longer fight?  I'd argue that's an even greater test of character than how someone fights.  

My last serious relationship was with someone who it felt as though she was setting off flairs, so the enemy knew where to aim.  And when I got hit, she seemed really sorry, but there was no way she was missing that chopper.

My ex-wife could best be characterized as shooting me in the body armor, during the battle, then lying about it.  Not my finest hour, but I was with someone who fought as a fearless warrior.  When one of us got wounded, the other would throw the other over their shoulder and make damned sure they both made the flight home.  Ultimately, I shot her just after she threw me onto the chopper floor.  Again, not my finest hour.  

How would you characterize your most memorable relationship?

The Tale of the Tardy Tawdry Tart, Part 1

Preface:  This is my first work of fiction, inspired by someone both submissive and challenged by punctuality.  When I considered a sub being late, it would only make sense it would occur toward the beginning of a relationship, when a couple enjoys the honeymoon phase.  A true Dom wouldn't tolerate habitual tardiness from his sub, for long..  What follows is not traditional BDSM material, but I think it reflects a real life engagement.  Not all of it can be hardcore action.  There will neither be additional fiction forthcoming, nor a Part 2.

And yes, I do enjoy alliteration, thank you.  

He looked in the oven for the third time in the past ten minutes, this final check confirming what he already knew; the food contained within was well and truly past its prime.  The dish wasn't something he necessarily cared for, nor were the prep techniques within his traditional skill set.  But she'd mentioned it was her absolute favorite food and he intended to surprise her; she was worth the effort.  Except, just like almost every other time they planned something together, she was late.  Not by a few minutes; it was now half past when she promised to arrive.  Ordinarily, he rolled with it, because of how lucky he felt to have her as his partner.   She was the total package of intellect, wit, and beauty; and she was a dirty girl.  They'd only been a couple, or D and s, for two months, so there were still some uncharted waters to navigate together.  He wouldn't admit to it, but he'd already fallen for her, hard.  

However, action was clearly required to break her pattern of tardiness.  Besides, she was his possession, and possessions do not show their owners such disrespect.  As he sat, stewing over the problem, pondering how he'd address the situation, the doorbell rang.  

All of the negativity evaporated when he opened the door.  Her smile never failed to brighten his day and melt his heart, just a little.  She was wearing a short, flowery yellow summer dress that straddled the line between cute and revealing.  Her auburn locks cascaded over her shoulders.  She looked amazing.  Because she was a good girl, save her ability to use a clock, panties would have been left at home.  After he closed the door, he scooped her up, wrapping her in his strong embrace.  She loved how safe she felt in his arms and he loved having her there.  

Suddenly, without preamble, he released her and stepped away.  When he turned to face her again, gone were the kind eyes in which she'd been bathing a moment ago, replaced by those that belonged to The Iceman.  She knew she'd been a bad girl and assumed the proper submissive pose of hands clasped in front of her, with her head appropriately lowered.

He spoke with without emotion.     

'Once again, you're late to arrive.  I've begrudgingly overlooked your tardiness so far, but no longer.  Tonight, I planned to surprise you with your favorite dish, which as you know has a short window in which it can be served before becoming inedible.  Needless to say, that window has long passed.  I even had the aardvark flown in fresh.  Your disregard for my time can be no longer tolerated.'

The feelings came rapid fire.  A flash of warmth from his thoughtfulness; he'd really gone to all of that trouble for me?  This was quickly replaced with guilt over squandering such a precious gift; all of the time he spent to make her happy, ruined by her.  Then the fear arrived.  Could she lose him over this?  She'd never seen him so devoid of emotion, before.  It was the fear that remained, then blossomed.

She looked up at him with genuine remorse in her eyes, resuming the role of his partner, 'Oh my god, honey.  I'm so sorry.  If I'd have known...'

Her sentiment of contrition was cut short by the withering look he gave her.  She quickly returned to her proper position and place in this portion of their relationship.  

'Sir, I am sorry for causing you such trouble.  My behavior has been completely unacceptable.  If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise it won't happen again.'

She dropped to her knees in order emphasize the sincerity of her supplication,  

'You are my possession, confirmed by the necklace you wear, symbolizing your submission.  Do you acknowledge this to be true?'

'Yes sir, I belong completely to you for you to do with me as you wish.'

'And I have upheld my portion of the arrangement, correct?  You are properly taken care of and your journey of pleasure has lived up to your expectations?'

'Yes, sir.  It's so much more than I could have imagined.'  

'Then it's time you began to act accordingly and show your owner proper respect by arriving in a punctual manner.  After all, what would happen if the other members of The Fraternal Brotherhood of Dominants, Chapter 5 caught wind that their president was allowing his property to behave with such disrespect?  I'd receive a vote of no confidence before I knew what happened.  Everyone over there wants to be in charge as it is.'

She struggled to maintain a straight face, but his injection of humor caused her to breathe a sigh of relief.  It was a signal that his affection for her remained constant.  His ability to make her laugh was one of the things that she found most attractive about him.  

'At first, I considered a more traditional course of discipline, involving the paddle I recently purchased. However, after consideration, I find such punishment to be lacking in finesse and may not actually deter you from future transgressions.  In fact, you may enjoy such corporal punishment a bit too much.  In fact, I bet your sex just gushed a bit at the thought of me spanking your hot little ass.'

With that, he stepped forward and reached up under her dress, briefly admiring her rock hard nipples attempting to pierce the fabric.  She gasped in surprise when she felt him roughly pawing at her sex.    He withdrew his hand and examined his fingers in an almost detached manner, as though lost in his own thoughts.

'Drenched...', he said in a borderline derisive tone.  'Just as I suspected.'

'Do you know how to modify a dog's behavior to prevent it from jumping up on you?  Not by punishing it, but by not giving it the one thing it wants most when it jumps...you.  So, you hook the dog's leash to a solid object and beckon the dog over to you.  If the dog jumps, you turn away and move just out of the leash's radius.  You take away its reward, you.  If the dog doesn't jump, you remain in place and praise it and it eventually learns the behavior to receive its desired reward'

God, he was talking about training her like a dog.  She knew she should be offended, but at the same time, she couldn't deny her arousal toward the thought.  It was as close to complete objectification as she'd been taken.  She'd been a bad girl and deserved whatever treatment her owner meted out.  This man knew how to push buttons she didn't know existed within herself and she'd come to trust him implicitly, as a result.  He could do anything he wanted to her and she'd willingly comply.  His voice snapped her back to the present.   

'In order to ensure your behavior is well and truly modified, you'll be treated accordingly.'

She looked up and saw he had a collar and leash in his hand.  Again, with any of her previous lovers, she'd have yelled the safe word, called him a pig, and walked out the door.  Except now, she just thought of how she truly was becoming his possession and it made her feel warm inside.  She leaned forward to make it easier for him to fit the collar.

After affixing the collar to her dainty neck, he took a step back, leash in hand, and spoke again.

'What was the one thing you were looking forward to most, coming over tonight, beyond enjoying my winning personality and charm?  Perhaps for me to subject you to the same treatment as I did a few nights ago?  You told me you'd never passed out from an orgasm before.  Was that what you wanted tonight?'

He'd proved over and over that he could make her orgasm at will, but hold her on the brink, if he desired.  She loved when he demanded she beg for her release.  She always felt like a used dishrag, when he was done with her.  The memory set her whole body ablaze.  

'Well?'

She bit her lower lip a bit and said, 'You know I want that, sir.  You have the videos showing how turned on I was for you the whole week.  I tried to be a good girl.'   

'Hopefully, you'll have fond memories of the pleasure I brought you, because tonight, you'll go without.'

He was withholding sex?  She wondered if he wasn't the man she thought he was, after all.  Withholding sex was petty; something an insecure little boy does.  Worst of all, withholding sex was flat out lazy and lacked imagination.

'Lest you think you'll escape so easily, your hot little body will still receive copious amounts of attention and pleasure from me, just no closure, if you will.  Tonight will be all about denying those things you most want.'

With that, used the leash to guide her into the bedroom.    

'Remove your dress and lay down on the bed.'

His voice remained as cold as ice, so she quickly complied. 

'Hands.'

She quickly found herself restrained to the bed, both arms and legs firmly anchored, unable to move more than an inch or two in any direction.  

Once she was bound in place, he blindfolded her.  One of the most intense sexual experiences of her life began with him taking the same actions.  She was completely at his mercy and, oh God, could he see her literally dripping for him?  Of course he could see the wetness glistening on her bare pussy and the small spots materializing on the sheet as it dripped. 

The blindfold not only added a level of suspense for her, it also prevented her from seeing the look of absolute desire on his own face.  This amazing woman never failed to stoke his own inferno of lust and he wanted nothing more than to devour her.  She needed to be taught a lesson, but this truly was the case of being more painful for him than for her.  

With his possession properly secured, he left the room to give final considerations to his course of discipline.

High Praise

 Someone from my past reached out to me recently and gave me the most genuine, if head swelling, compliment.  I've previously written about her in the epic, thrilling posts The Reference Fuck, and Cum On My Tits, A Love Story.  We were talking the other night and were both feeling a bit frisky, so there was a bit of play.  I directed her to touch herself in the ways I knew she liked and said horrible things to her.  The compliment came in the chat after.  

She told me that I had taught her more about her body and what brings her the most pleasure than she ever could have been able to on her own.  

It was certainly nice to hear, considering I can feel my skills atrophy more by the day, here in Kansas in a pandemic.  Here's hoping you're lucky enough to be learning more about your partner's body, this weekend.

Submission

 I'm blatantly stealing this from another blogger, who discovered it elsewhere, but it was too on point not to share.  

Innovation at Plenty of Shit

Plenty of Fish The website has been a previous target of my ire and continues to innovate in ways to raise it.  If I've not previously mentioned it, I was finally able to create an account on the site and not have it deleted fifteen minutes later.  Like other free dating sites, there's now a premium service option, where you pay and receive some sort of benefits.  No clue what they are, since communicating is still free and I don't care enough to investigate.  As usual, I have an opinion and that is those who pay for a free dating site are ripe targets for fleecing.  

One of the new features available to both the fleeced or unfleeced, is the option to check a box that prevents the unfleeced from contacting you.  The site attempts to convince you that they're more serious about finding a partner.  My position is do you really want to date someone who's dim enough to pay for a free site?  And besides, am I really going to pay for a service in the hopes the one person I'm interested will even respond?  Nah.  In any case, I've run across a few who've not unchecked the box and pass them by.  No one's been that irresistible.  That's where the site shows how slimy it's become.

Like every dating site, there's some way to 'like' another user.  You'll receive a little notification someone liked you and they show up in your matches.  Until I hid my profile, I was receiving a growing number of likes from really beautiful women.  I'd click on them and immediately got the pop up saying this member only receives messages from those who've been properly fleeced.  Hmm...something's not quite kosher, but I can't put my finger on it.  LOL

I'm sure you can fill in the blanks from there.  

On a semi-related note, Okey Cupie has updated their site / app again and achieved the pinnacle of making it completely unusable.  No longer can you just do a basic search for people in your area, within an age range.  You're forced to search by interests or some shit.  Oh, and of course, they want to fleece you as well.  Not surprising, considering they're both owned by the same company.

Of course, at this point in time, fleeced or unfleeced, ain't no one worth the risk of infection.

And that's the dating scene in 2020.

Fuck Me Harder And...Put in a Happy Little Tree

In trading notes with the remaining ex, who recently resurfaced, she reminded me of one of the most amusing moments we had in bed.

It was a Saturday afternoon and we were relaxing to an episode of Bob Ross.  We apparently began to feel frisky and after pausing Bob, we found ourselves in the heat of passion in my bedroom.  I had a first floor master, so the living room was just outside the master bedroom.  Anyway, as I'm thrusting deep inside her, her nearing her next orgasm, Bob Ross begins to talk about putting in happy little trees.  The DVR I had would only pause for 20 minutes, then resume playing.

I rolled off of her, both of us laughing hysterically about our sexplay being interrupted by Bob Ross.  Needless to say, I went out and properly shut Bob down, before returning to complete my mission.

A Herd of Exes

At some point, over the past few weeks of lock down, I recall seeing something on social media on a trend of people reaching out to reconnect with their exes.  I quickly dismissed it, because it's just not something I would do.  That's not to say I wouldn't like to reconnect.  With the exception of those like the thing that wouldn't leave and borderline ex-wife, I still respect the hell out of most of those I've been intimate with.  Unfortunately, these are also the women who I was unable to give them what they wanted from me.  Trust me, I miss interacting with a few of my previous partners and had tamped impulses to reach out, before the quarantine. But the last thing I want to do is dredge up feelings they've hopefully put in their little boxes.  Causing others pain because of my own selfish motives isn't something I can allow myself to do.  I just wish that someone would tell the ones I miss about the selfish thing.

This evening marks the third woman, who lives on the above list, to reach out.  Two immediately ghosted me, one remains present and in communication. 

How many exes have you reconnected with, during the lockdown?

A Tale of Self-Centeredness

Under the heading of shit I've only encountered in Kansas...

Long story short, I had made contact with a woman who, after a year of being celibate, wanted to get laid on NYE.  We agreed to meet beforehand, in order we weren't stuck with someone we didn't like the day of.

So she arrived Christmas evening and the sex was halfway decent.  A Christmas miracle!  She appeared to be dateworthy, so she stayed and additional quality sex was had.  Her selfish tendencies came to light during that sex, however.  Before we met, I made a point of sharing how a previous partner's selfishness in the bedroom doomed our relationship to a platonic one.  I very clearly explained what that hot button was for me.  During the time we were together, she pounded the shit out of that button over and over.  Not a good start.

One of the two nights I was getting ready for bed, when she asked if the phone charger next to the bed was mine.  As if it could belong to someone else?  I responded that it was.  Except she decided it was hers, because when I came into the bedroom, her phone was plugged into it, .

While she was here, most of the conversation was her relating drama about her family, the divorce process, and a few other topics.  She was frequently in tears talking about it.  While I'm not unsympathetic, I'll admit that got a bit old.

The thing that wouldn't leave finally departed late Friday morning because she needed to attend a funeral.  She said she'd text me as soon as she knew whether she could come over or if things had gone long.  When I didn't receive a text by 6:30 p.m., I decided she was on her own for dinner.  When one hadn't arrived at 7:30 p.m., I'd pretty much decided that, sans another death or severe bodily trauma, she was getting the heave ho.  At 7:50 p.m., a text finally arrived, saying she was tired and would text me in the morning.  Yeah, thanks for letting me know early enough so that I could adjust my plans...  In my potentially fantasy world, when you say you're going to text someone with plans, you text someone with plans, whether they're your friend or some dipshit you work with.

At 12:50 Saturday morning, I was awoken by knocking on my door.  It was followed by door bell ringing.  That pattern alternated without pause.  Knock knock knock knock, ring ring ring...  It was fucking constant.  At that point, I didn't know who was at my door, and willing them to shut the fuck up wasn't working.  So, as one does when there's a lunatic at their front door, I grabbed something in a large caliber and went downstairs to investigate.  You already know it was her.  Well, I went off on her in the semi-coherent manner one does when one is awoken from a deep sleep.  However, the message that she needed to stay the fuck away from me was crystal clear.

Fortunately, all indications are she did listen to that bit of direction.

In summary, holy fuck, I've never encountered anyone so self-centered and ultimately bereft of courtesy toward others.  Such a shame, because the sex was about the best I've had in the flatlands.

Satisficing In Your Relationship

If you're in a relationship that's less than a few years old, I want you to take a look at your significant other and ask yourself what attributes he or she possesses that made you partner with them.  Being  honest with yourself, is one of them that he or she is safe?  Is one of the most appealing features of your partner that you know they won't leave you?  If so, are you living a fulfilling a relationship or are you satisficing?

Satisficing is a decision-making strategy that aims for a satisfactory or adequate result, rather than the optimal solution.  In other words, 'so long as he's stable and won't leave me, I'll partner with him.'

Don't get me wrong, security is important in a relationship; after all, none of us would eagerly partner with someone you knew would likely run like hell, when some heavy lifting was required.  But what do we sacrifice for that security?

As usual, I'll share some of my own experiences to illuminate the dynamics of dating for safety.  We'll start with my ex-wife, who I've written about before.  After I ended the marriage, she immediately jumped into the dating pool and coupled with a guy who clearly exhibited safety.  Before going any further, I'll refresh my readers on my wife's attributes that are salient to this topic, which were that she was very attractive and skilled at manipulation.  As a result, she could have had a wide choice of men.  The one she chose was mostly unemployed (he has a graphics business with no website) and demonstrated no indication of a backbone, the times our paths crossed.  My intent isn't to insult him, rather than stating facts.  She was the one in charge and was obviously the hottest piece of ass this guy had ever gotten his hands on.  In summary, this guy wasn't going anywhere; he was eminently safe.  As evidence, they've been together for over ten years, which is longer than any of her previous relationships.

I'd also previously referenced my next example, which is a woman who left me before I could leave her.  She latched the fuck onto the next guy she dated and wound up marrying him.  In her case, because we remained friends for a bit, I am well aware of the sacrifices she made.  Again, it was obvious this woman was the hottest thing he'd ever dated and was obviously not going anywhere.  She would complain to me how the guy was a mess, from the divorce he was going through, and was the stereotypical dull dude.   How uncultured he was and that he was a raging homebody (she was the opposite).  He had four of his own kids, where she had two.  Again, no insult intended, but her resentment for her own children lived just below the surface, yet she signed up for a full boat Brady Bunch?  He was gainfully employed, however. 

The one attribute these men shared was their commitment.  'Til death do us part, even if you're the cause of my imminent demise.' 

This would be all well and fine if one could accurately identify the safe ones.  In my experience, the ones who we perceive as having no better options to be the safest.  Except that's not the case.  I'll speak for men, because I am men.  You give some poor shlub an amazing, gorgeous woman who's a rock star in the sack, and he may very well begin believing he can attract other women out of his league.  Mr. Safety isn't quite as safe as you thought.  Of course, he'll realize that's not the case and come crawling back, but that's another topic.

So, look at your significant other again and ask yourself if you're satisficing.

Out of Work Trophy Wife Encounter

Yes readers, one sneaked through my selection process and it didn't end well.  Our first interaction was through Match and she seemed intelligent, motivated, kind, and hot, but not OWTW hot.  Her profile and initial round of notes indicated she was a special needs teacher.  I'll fast forward through much of the intervening communication and provide the salient facts, since she's not really worth typing a great deal about.  We got onto the topic of sex, she wanted it, I'm a master at talking dirty and creating images, we were going to meet last night for dinner and she'd come over and begin to explore her submissive side.  I do love me some exploration.  We both seemed to want a genuine relationship and I parroted her desires, in that aspect of our communication.  I probably took it a bit further due to a combination of excitement over (seemingly) finding someone in Kansas worth dating. 

At this point, I'll mention recognizing a few red flags pointing to a potential OWTW, including how her successful, and apparently fuck nuts, attorney husband had traded her in on a younger model.

The day before our date, she went a bit dark, cutting email down to a single note.  I asked her if everything was okay, at which point she told me she thought I was pushing for something more serious than she wanted.  I responded that I had no interest in jumping into anything.  Her note made it clear she didn't accept what I'd told her.  Perhaps if I'd mentioned that there's no way in hell I want to establish anything remotely resembling roots in fucking Kansas. 

By the time our date rolled around, I knew there was no way she was coming home with me.  She arrived decked out in designer clothing and admittedly, looked quite delicious.  Dinner was full of vacuous conversation, where I learned she actually wasn't teaching, or working at all.  She was dabbling and not happy with any of her teaching options.  That one wasn't an immediate bell, because I was still determining whether I could get her in the sack.  Sorry, I'm a guy after all.  Dinner ended, with no conversation about her coming home with me, so I broached the topic.  As expected, she declined, sticking to her story of my wanting to move too quickly and how she didn't want to hurt me.  I commented that she had clearly made up her mind before coming to dinner, which she denied.  I'll come back to that.

I made the mistake of asking something to the effect of why she came to dinner, knowing she wasn't going home with me.  And she let me have it with everything she could think of: the rushing into a relationship, how she didn't like the phrasing I used in one of my notes, how I didn't apologize properly for something she felt I needed to apologize.  She was put off that I couldn't come up with any sexual fantasies, when she asked (sorry, they're not really fantasies after they've been fulfilled).  Then, she berated me for foisting fantasies onto her (except they weren't fantasies, but dirty things most other women enjoyed).  She took issue with things I'd said that I never said; those had to have come from some other guy.  On and on it went, with no end in sight.  I've had women I'd been dating for months tell me off in a shorter amount of time than this woman I'd just met.   She'd run through her list of transgressions, then circle back to the beginning, finding some new grievance to add for the next rotation.  I've never experienced anything like this!  I did everything I could think of to indicate the conversation was over, to gracefully make an exit.  I did this twice, but she wasn't losing any steam, so I wound up doing something I've never done before.  I got up and walked out on her, muttering something to the effect of 'have a nice life'.

It hit me later that all of these supposed transgressions occurred before we laid eyes on each other, so which only adds fuel to my previous query of why did she meet in the first place.  What a truly horrible encounter.

As I'm sure you can tell, I'm still angered by the whole episode, but was able to perform a post mortem on the date and finally uncover her motive for coming to dinner; the only possible motive.  She was still sexed up, from the dirty talk I'd been plying her with and was hoping I'd be more of a stud muffin than I appeared in my pictures.  At that point, she would have likely forgotten the whole 'hurting others' thing and gone home with me.  Transparent and shallow; not the things I look for in a woman.

And what pisses me off the most is I spent $30 on some fucking grapefruit flavored Absolut that she asked for me to have for her.  It's not the money, mind you, but the reminder of the bitch every time I open the freezer.  I sure as hell won't drink it.  Anyone want a bottle of nasty vodka?

Safety Is Important - Flotation Devices

Well, I've reached a point where I'm back to the online dating world and have noticed something new about women in Kansas.  Damn, there are a lot of them here with implants!  These enhanced blouse bunnies are easy to spot, because chests just don't match the rest of these women's bodies.  I'm sure there are plenty of women with implants who seek a more natural look, and you'd never know without a feel test, but these women have chosen the porn star big wahwahs route.  No way you could miss those pontoons.

Giving it some thought, this trend shouldn't be much of a surprise; one of the first observations I made, viewing dating profiles, was the rather robust trade in cosmetics, here in the KC area. 

And while finding time to pen this short 'holy shit, lots of fake sweater meat here' entry, I've also encountered a bunch of women who seemingly wear false eyelashes all the time. As with many of these things, I encountered one woman in particular who had fake lashes so large, they prevented her from wearing sunglasses and smeared her windshield, which heightened my awareness to them on other women.  But even in the most casual photo, there's full makeup and accoutrements. 

I'll resist the temptation to venture further into what the dedication to bolt on's and such say about someone.  It's a woman's body and she's free to do with it as she chooses.  Perhaps it's a thing, here in flyover states.  People sure as hell don't spend their money on travel or other enrichment, so they might as well have prodigious cans.  Some major league yabos, I tell ya. 

And yes, I enjoyed working in as many euphemisms as I could in the short entry; because like most men, I'm twelve and easily amused.

Blast From Past - My Turkish FWB

This entry is a bit unusual for me, because I'm taking a hard swipe at someone.  Surprisingly, that person was the subject of a previous swipe.  Read into that as you wish.  My style is a bit raw and unrefined in this entry as well.  You could interpret that to mean the topic wasn't important enough for me to edit and polish my writing.  Or not...

When I was back in Richmond a few months ago, I had dinner with the former Turkish FWB I'd written about in The Girl Who Owned Nothing.  I didn't mention the FWB part earlier, but that was a significant portion of our friendship.  Anyway, I thought it would be nice to see her and, yes, perhaps enjoy some dirtiness.  However, the evening wound up being one of the most unpleasant experiences I've had in recent memory.  I'd have written about it sooner, except I'd not bothered to walk through the events, with a critical eye, until now.  I tend to be a trusting sort with those I know, particularly if they've had my cock in their mouth, so I'm not attempting to spot lies.  If someone's a known manipulative fuck, then I'm likely discounting everything that comes from their mouths in the first place.  Speaking of fucks, I didn't have enough to care all that much about that evening. 

I'll hold my conclusion on the matter and let my readers reach their own conclusions about what the hell was going through her mind.

When I'd reached out to FWB and let her know I was coming to town, she was aloof and made it clear a yet to be scheduled date with any other guy would take precedence over dinner with me and we definitely would NOT be having sex.  It's heartwarming to feel welcomed by your friends.

During dinner, she regaled me with tales of having sex with different men and told me that one in particular was amazing.  I asked what made him that way; what did he do to you?  There was nothing specific, she said, just that the passion was so incredibly intense with him.  I asked if any of these men had taken her ass from me or if I was still the only man who'd given her that pleasure.  She told me I was still the only one, but quickly moved on to another topic.  That seemed a bit strange, considering that was what she wanted most, once I introduced her to the act.  If things were so passionate, why not ask for him to take her ass, too? 

The conversation remained on the topic of sex.  On orgasms, she had once told me she'd had more in the first encounter with me than her whole life up until that night.  During dinner, that story changed.  She claimed that I'd misunderstood her, when she'd said she was a virgin when she married her husband.  'We fucked like bunnies even before we were married and he gave me lots of orgasms.' 

Hmmm...I feel a theme in here somewhere.

Oral sex - Our first time together, her blowjob skills were rather lacking; hell, she'd not had much experience.  However, she took direction well, so with plenty of  coaching, and a few videos I sent over, she became one of the best I've ever had.  When the topic came up, during my recent visit, she told me she learned on her own, just by watching videos and that I had nothing to do with it.

Dick Size - One of the men she told me she slept with had a huge penis.  Now, this woman is tiny in every way, so I asked if it hurt, to which she replied it was amazing having something that big in her.  I'm average size, but have zero envy of larger cocks.

Surprisingly, my ego wasn't bruised with the pelting of veiled insults.  However, it did sting a bit how she seemed to intentionally try to hurt me exactly where she thought she could do the most damage.   I work hard to discover all the little things that drive my partner crazy, so I take pride in my skills in the bedroom.  She knew this because she'd once told me 'your dedication to fucking is superior'.  Yes, I wrote it down because I found it humorous.  But she seemed to deliberately attack my ability as a lover.

Then, a few weeks later, I returned to the conversation and began considering the things she said.  Let's just say the bullshit began piling up.  Was the husband who rocked her world the same one she complained had been horrible in the sack, sometimes prematurely ejaculating before he'd gotten undressed?  Did I miss her commenting on how watching blowjob videos and learning on her own improved her skills, when she'd been blowing me?  And that amazing huge dick she loved so much; what about the well-endowed guy she'd slept with after I cut her off?  The one who she said hurt her, because he was so large.  And why again didn't she want that non-specifically passionate guy to not do the thing that made her orgasm the hardest?  The non-specifically passionate guy who began the evening described as the love of her life and ended as just a fuck buddy, who used her for sex, then took another woman to his condo in Miami. 

There were a few other things she said that evening that were in direct contradiction to her previous messaging.  When she read of my imminent departure to KC, she came by my house, literally in tears, to say goodbye.  I remarked that I was surprised she wasn't upset about the blog entry, to which she sniffed and responded 'it was true'.  Except it suddenly became not true during dinner.  I must have heard her wrong.  Damned hearing clearly requires a professional assessment. 

Then the obvious hit me.  She had wanted me for herself the whole time and I rejected her.  The evening full of jabs were her way of getting back at me.  As with the manipulation, while we were involved with one another, it was petty and childish.  But I still felt bad for hurting her.

So, the other night, I sent her a note apologizing for causing her so much pain.  She responded by denying that was the case, of course.  I may have shot a note back wondering why she spent an entire evening lying, in a deliberate attempt to hurt me.  Or not...some things need to be a mystery.