how many men will start with “hey! – winky face”
the equivalent of a smile and
eyes meeting in a crowded bar,
though I’m in the ever more crowded meat market that is the internet
or “you’re beautiful”, the chat up line to end all chat up lines because apparently my
physical appearance is my most worthy asset. Though, the
ugly duckling teenage me still finds joy…
or, the more thought out and reasoned “I like your profile”
which means, “I think you’re hot but I don’t want to come across
as a creep so I’ll focus on your seeming intelligence and
capability to string a sentence together.”
I wonder how many of these men will want my number to continue the conversation. I wonder how quickly they’ll ask for it. The faster the better?
I wonder if once they have my number they’ll send me an unsolicited dick pic.
I wonder if they’ll send a solicited one.
I wonder why all guys tell me they’re 9 inches.
I wonder if any women actually wank to dick pics.
I wonder how many will ask for tit pics in return.
I wonder how long I’ll be able to hold off;
whether the hedonist in me
strips off right away or strings them along
in an absurd power play.
I wonder how many men are masturbating to my tit pics right now.
Hell, I wonder how many men are masturbating right now, not just to my fabulous breasts.
I wonder how many other women send tit pics.
I wonder how many women are wanking to my tit pics.
Hell, I wonder how many women are wanking right now to their own fabulous breasts.
I wonder why some men aren’t satisfied with tit pics and pursue pussy.
I wonder why I give in.
I wonder why it’s such a turn on.
And then I wonder why I freak out.
I wonder what will happen if I become famous and my tits and fanny are splashed everywhere.
I wonder if the headline will be funny
or at least poetic.
I wonder if anyone would actually care,
the amount I talk about my cunt anyway.
I wonder how many will lose interest and make no further contact once they have those pictures – will the percentage remain as high? I wonder if I’ll learn my lesson and stop sending them…
I wonder how many men will voice or video chat and wank while I smile and laugh.
I wonder how many I will actually wank with.
I wonder when internet dating became de rigeur and meeting people in the real world became taboo.
I wonder if I can maintain five potential matches at the same time.
I wonder if I will ever remember who I’m actually talking to and what I’ve told them already.
I wonder how many first dates I’ll go on.
I wonder how many of them will kiss me at the end of the evening.
I wonder how many of those kisses will give me butterflies in my tummy
I wonder if the one boy I really like really likes me back.
I wonder if he’s the one who will
make it all worthwhile
or whether I screw shit up and ruin it
before it’s had a chance
I wonder if they’re all playing some sinister game in an epic conspiracy.
I wonder why people lie about who they are, make fake profiles and use pictures of film stars. I wonder why I fall for it.
I wonder how many cocks I’ll have had inside me by the end of the year.
I wonder how many condoms will be used. Probably not enough.
I wonder why so many men are obsessed with sticking it up my bum.
What is wrong with penis in vagina?
I wonder how many of them who want to stick it in my pooper would appreciate me sticking something in theirs. Equal rights, right? I’ll peg your pooper, proper good!
I wonder if they believe me when I tell them I’m amazing at blow jobs. I wonder if I could get away with writing it on my CV? Or get references from previous lovers. Lovers is a bit generous. Previous conquests would be more accurate.