“Hey girl.
“My god, you’re gorgeous. Not to sound like a creep, but you’re such a babe.”
“You seem like you’d be fucking cool too. You look like you’d be awesome, because you don’t act like all the other girls . Seriously. You know the ones I’m talking about. You’re so different, edgy, and you do your own thing. That’s sexy and attractive.”
“I want to get to know you better. We should grab a drink.”
“Want to come over and cuddle, watch a movie? You should. I need a cuddle buddy.”
“Let’s fuck. I want to fuck you. I promise I will rock your world.”
This is the part where you think that I should be flattered, because you’re sending me compliments (and yes, I know they’re all true). But there’s nothing behind those compliments, except your sex drive on overdrive, and the heavy breaths of air you’re exhausting at the possibility I might say “yes” to your un-thoughtful proposition.
Am I supposed to feel special, because you’re flirting with me?
In your mind, I shouldn’t have to think twice about this – I mean, it’s you, and you’ve already promised to rock my world…
Why would I want to miss out on that opportunity?
Here’s why: you’re using me, for sex. and that is fucking insulting.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had my share of “Oh-my-god, that guy is so attractive, and if it wasn’t illegal, I’d rip his clothes off and have my way with him right this very second” moments on several occasions. We all do; we’re fucking humans after all, who crave sexual encounters.
But just because he’s a person with a real-life penis that could probably provide me so much more pleasure than my abilities or the help of a few special toys, it does not give me any right to reduce him to JUST his physical appearance and his potential to FILL MY NEEDS.
He’s a person. With feelings, emotions, and a soul.
And maybe I don’t know everything about him, but he’s innocent until proven guilty, and deserving of some fucking respect – a subject which you seem to know very little about.
I am not a fucking piece of meat for you to tear into and indulge in. My vagina is not open for business at your convenience, and it’s not here to meet all your needs.
I am not just someone-to-have-sex-with.
You said you think I’m cool. And the truth is: I am pretty fucking cool, but you don’t actually know that. Finding out just how awesome I really am would require you to invest some real quality time, which you haven’t done yet and it’s a step you’d likely rather skip past.
If there’s one thing you’ve done well – it’s that you’ve showed me that you’re looking for the express lane. While you’re there, you’re probably hoping to pick up some sort of take one now, get a deal later kind of coupons, right? Gift with next visit, perhaps?
Sorry. You’ve got the wrong girl.
I am not an object, here to please you. You cannot just expect me to give in to your deplorable requests for stimulation and pleasure.
I will not just let you use me for convenient sex.
If you think sex is some sort of service that should be provided to you, you should be willing to pay for it. There are women out there who would gladly take your money, but I am not one of them.
If you’re “just looking to have some fun”, I can do that. I am a big fan of having fun; it’s just that I prefer to have fun with people who treat me with a whole lot more decency than you’re apparently offering.
You don’t want me. You just want my pretty face and the curves of my body to please you, satisfy you, and make you feel good.
That’s not going to fly here.
“Hey buddy. You’re not so bad looking yourself. Too bad you’re a sad excuse for a man, which makes you totally unattractive.
“You probably have the potential of being a gentleman, but no. You’re too busy being a sleazy little boy. As a woman, that’s such a turn off.”
“Fuck you, for thinking you could so easily get me to fuck you. As for rocking my world, I’m sure I’ll find someone who can do that in many more incredible ways than you ever could.”