go in CHEAP & come out CLEAN
Oh yes, girls just love it when you talk about how you have no interest in even pretending to care about who they are as a person. So THANKZ but no thankz.
Dating in Los Angeles is the fucking worst, I give up.
Is there anything more maddening, frustrating, and insipidly stupid than how many dudes answer the following questions on OKCupid?
“Is a guy that sleeps with 100 girls a bad person?”
“Is a girl that sleeps with 100 guys a bad person?”
What is it with 70% of the profiles I see on that fucking website, that always have the answer “no” for the guy-related question and “yes” for the girl-related one? Why do people not see how hypocritical this is? Why is it that a number can define a woman differently than a man? How is it that a person’s sexual partners — NOT the content of their character — can be such a defining characteristic for people’s definitions of “good” and “bad”? Does that mean there’s no such thing as a “bad” virgin or a “good” sexually-open non-virgin?
It blows my mind when dudes answer this question (and MORE SO when girls do, because, holy fucking shit don’t even get me started on THAT self-hatred train. Women misogynists are the most confounding things in the universe) and then reach out to women on that site and expect them to respond! It’s never about the number or the opinion more so than it is the hypocrisy of having two different opinions on the SAME question. The only difference is between one having a dick and the other a vagina. Why is getting it put in dirtier and sluttier than putting it in? The same shit happens whether you’re a penis or a vagina: sexy times and usually orgasm.
Perhaps it’s the logistics of sex that make people feel like female sexuality is inferior to males’? But, if that is the case, then why is that? Is it because having a stick versus a hole is somehow considered cleaner? If you’re somehow mentally relating it to delivery vessels being more “clean” and therefore superior to receptacles, well, I’m really going to have to your ability to properly handwash bowls, glasses, or vases (or anything that isn’t silverware?), and worry about where else this sheer idiocy, hypocrisy, lack of common sense, and general asshattery in logic will appear next.
Also I’d like to say thanks for making it *that* much easier to ignore your request to “get wild, lol.”
I’m not proud of my errors here (namely writing “offending your eyes” twice and forgetting the word “not” before “superficial creeps”), nor am I proud that I fed the trolls…but I was feeling punchy because I’ve been working for 12 hours.
You guys! I’m FAT! HOLY SHIT! Thank you, Random Internet Stranger (whose OKCupid profile can be found HERE if you’re into that sort of thing) for letting me know I’m fat and should kill myself. At least I had a lot of fun being a total snarky bitch in my responses to him. Yay!
I think this goes to show that guys DO care what weight women are. So for all you dumbass girls out there who believe otherwise, realize it’s not possible.
By the way, to the girl who got sent these messages, I’m sorry you had to hear that. What a jackass.
Dear young lady who runs a thinspo-themed tumblr that reblogged my post,
Please, do not feel sorry for me. I don’t feel sorry for me. I think you’ve entirely missed the point. Some guy who was, mind you, 100% completely NOT worth dating or worth an ounce of my attention (hence why I admitted to “feeding the trolls” because trolls moved from bridges to the Internet a few years back), sent me messages that aren’t worth caring about. Because what he thinks of my weight is none of my damn business. He tried to make it my business, and I sassed him for it, but that’s it. I’m not broken up about it. I don’t feel the need to change who I am because of it. I spent a good five minutes laughing at this guy’s message before I replied. Because it’s fucking hysterically pathetic that he sent it at all, or that he thought I would hold his (a random Internet stranger’s) opinion in such high regard. And I really don’t care that someone thinks I’m fat. It’s the truth. It’s part of who I am. (Granted, my weight issues are largely because of a bevy of medical problems I’m not about to disclose on my random blog that are making shit extra-special and hard for me…but even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t let a silly word that is an accurate description of my physical state be a problem for me. It’s also completely beside the point because if I was instead fat because I liked to eat a bag of fucking Cheetos with every meal, that would be MY life to live, not anyone else’s. I do me, you do you).
And for that matter, I think you also missed the end of the post. I’m not “forever alone.” I’m not sitting at home crying because this thin douchebag didn’t want to date me. I get attention from guys. I’ve had men want to date me. I am no sad fatty virgin sitting at home thinking “if only!” while staring at a photo of some unattainable celebrity would would totally want to bang the fuck out of me if I were 100 pounds. Far from it, my dude. Shit, I made out with a guy who aggressively hit on me in a bar very recently. And he wasn’t ugly! And guess what might blow your mind a little bit more here? (Put on your helmet) He was thin! Skinny! And he told me I was sexy. And I didn’t beg him to say or do that. He just thought I was cute and interesting. He didn’t care that I buy my clothes in the plus size section of ASOS, or that my belly curves out rather than being tautly stretched around 6 ab muscles. How’s that for evidence, eh? No guy worth anything is going to give a shit if you’re a 2 or a 22 if you’re a mentally and emotionally strong lady worth having around. (Which, shockingly enough—my mental and emotional capacity are in no way correlated to how fat I am!) Letting other people’s opinions of what they find attractive dictate your life is no way to live a life.
Finding a man is important to a lot of people. Finding love, I mean (need to be inclusive here). I get it. We all want it—shit, I would love to be in love. I have many friends in my life who are in love and it seems to add a certain richness to their experience that is nice and lovely and rosey-posey and all that. But it is not their whole life experience. And it doesn’t define them. Because being deemed physically attractive to someone is not everything. Being thin just so you feel like that’s one less thing someone with their own set of problems can judge you for, is not going to solve any of the bigger problems going on underneath your skin.
I’m not trying to make you feel bad about the sad struggle you’re exhibiting on your blog, but I want people to know that my intention with that blog post was mostly just to be a funny jackass, not to say “woe is me, some dude thinks I’m a total fatty, so clearly I’ll never find love!” Please. I already have tons (pun obviously intended) of people that love me. And they don’t care if I’m 120 pounds or 620 pounds. They love me for my mind, my occasionally neurotic rambling. My jokes! My sass and my snark. And they especially love that I really know how to work a dance floor when a Robyn song comes on. And maybe one day, if a guy is really lucky, he can say that he gets to love me in a different way, for as long as we both shall live or whatever. If I want him to; if he can handle me—I’m a lot of woman, you see. And not being skinny enough for him to throw me over his shoulder will be the least important thing in the world because we’ll vibe on a different fucking level entirely. Shit, he’ll LOVE that, too—he’ll LOVE that I’m not some skinny girl that can be tossed around like a rag doll. He’ll love the shit out of that fact. Because he’ll love all of me and that includes the pounds of fat under my skin.
And I don’t appreciate you calling girls dumbasses. What’s with the girl-on-girl hate? Why are you mad at other girls when the real problem here is society, not other girls who believe that love exists beyond a size 4? Don’t be mad at girls that believe what they should believe. Be mad at advertisements. At the entertainment industry. At people who are insecure enough with who they are that they feel the need to pick something on a woman’s body (or anyone’s body!) and tell them they’re inferior because of it. Society tells us subliminally and literally that women are only worth their looks and their weight. Be mad at it, not these girls who have an open and hopeful heart that is far closer to finding love and self-acceptance than you are.
Miss blogger lady, I know you must not truly believe that you are only worth your jean size, right? I’m sure you have a mind! I bet you want to be an educated, independent woman—not just a lowly sex object. Right? Maybe right now you’re having a rough patch. You don’t feel comfortable in your skin because you think it’s too big of a skin. That’s normal. Everyone in the universe (even the skinny girls—sometimes, sadly, especially them) feels that way. EVERYONE. Please believe that because it’s true. You may say you’re fat, I say you just have a lot of life inside of you and it’s hard to contain. Also, you know, genetics. If you want to be healthy because you only get one body and one life and keeping the machine well-oiled is important, then I support you in your quest for health. It can be really, really hard to do that—I commend you if that’s what you want. I commend all people (ladies and dudes) that put themselves and their health first because that is an incredibly challenging thing to do.
But I don’t want there to be any ladies out there that think or misconstrue what my post’s intent was originally. Because I don’t live for other people’s opinions on my skin, my fat, my rolls. I live for the life that they embody and help me create for myself. Sometimes I laugh and think to myself that a skinny version of me would’ve crumbled under the weight of what I’ve gone through in my life a long time ago. Because I live for me and what I think of myself—not a theoretical perception other people might think, maybe.
But it seems like maybe you do. Those people that make up this weird hypothetical you don’t even really know personally aren’t worth fucking shit. Because no one should think so low of themselves that they would wager their entire life’s happiness and worth and acceptance on what this hypothetical “they” might think about the size of the dress they put on in the morning. I mean, I hope not.
I noticed that one of the lines on your blog’s subheader includes the words “thin for him, thin for everyone.” Living your life for other people’s happiness is no life at all. Flip that idea on its head a bit and really think about how irresponsible you’re being towards yourself.
You love other people, warts and all, right? I imagine this “him” that you speak of—real or otherwise—you would love him and all of his faults, right? Like, if he had freckles, or if he maybe didn’t look like David Beckham. Or if his facial hair grew in a little bit patchy. Or if he started balding around age 40. You wouldn’t be so fairweather and fickle with your love of a person, right? Because love is real, and it’s deep. It doesn’t go away just because his one pinky finger might be longer than the other, right? Because we’re all adults here and we all know that if it does, then it was never real love to begin with; we know this. Love is unconditional. It means without condition. You don’t say “til death do us part…or one of us gains 10 extra pounds.” So why would you allow other people to hold you to this unattainable, unfair standard? What do you gain from that other than an existence that is woefully unfulfilled because you’re too busy trying to exist for other people than yourself? I’ll wait a minute and let you formulate a rational answer to that.
I really hope you find the strength inside of you to love yourself. No one deserves to not be happy in their own skin, to not love themselves or be able to find fulfillment in themselves. To define your self-worth by a number on a scale? I can’t even imagine how empty that must be. I sincerely, truly hope that one day you can find those things and realize that being skinny won’t automatically make you love yourself, or find you happiness. Fat? it’s just an adjective. Melting away the fat won’t melt away all your problems. Being thin doesn’t meant you no longer have room for all the self-hatred you seem to carry around. It just means you’ll be unhappy and hungry—and who wants that?
Sincerely,
The fat girl
I’m not proud of my errors here (namely writing “offending your eyes” twice and forgetting the word “not” before “superficial creeps”), nor am I proud that I fed the trolls…but I was feeling punchy because I’ve been working for 12 hours.
You guys! I’m FAT! HOLY SHIT! Thank you, Random Internet Stranger (whose OKCupid profile can be found HERE if you’re into that sort of thing) for letting me know I’m fat and should kill myself. At least I had a lot of fun being a total snarky bitch in my responses to him. Yay!
Los Angeles may trump New York in terms of the weird dating habits of its inhabitants. People are flaky. Like, way flaky. And their reasons for being so are even flakier than that. And nothing is quite so special as the secret shame some of these dudes carry when it comes to being interested in a fat girl. Honestly, I’m not sure where in the handbook it says we all welcome the pity fuck like a gift, but it definitely isn’t in MY edition. Or they only want to sleep with you in private, as if it’s illegal to like someone that isn’t the Hollywood standard of perceived beauty. And if you aren’t interested? FORGET IT. There’s a special sort of anger in a man that feels like he’s doing you a favor by showing interest in you, when you reject him.
People are also seemingly obsessed with how their work-life can impress and help their dating life. As if it somehow matters what sort of status you have in their (usually the entertainment/media) industry of choice. As if sussing out another person’s connections/aspirations is a prerequisite for a viable partner rather than, say, compatibility and interesting personality. There’s a whole lot of peacocking without any substance. It can be exhausting.
I was frustrated by dating in NYC, but LA dating doesn’t even want to try to taunt me with possibility. It just mostly makes me want to not even try.
Really, I’d just love to be proven wrong.
If you are interested in a lady…a few things to maybe do less:
1.) Do not stand around outside the subway station, see a girl you like & then immediately start trailing her as if you were waiting for this moment.
2.) Do not blurt out a non-sequitur & expect her to have any clue of what you are talking about.
3.) Do not say “not as bad as yesterday, huh?” and expect her to know what the fuck you’re talking about. Do not then clarify that you mean the weather.
3a.) Especially when it is ten degrees colder today than it was yesterday.
4.) When she speeds up to walk away from you, don’t speed up, too. She hasn’t even looked you in the eye, she’s not interested.
5.) Don’t start running behind her. This is a surefire way to convince her you are trying to kill her, no matter how clearly she could probably take you in a battle (due mostly to your awkward nature).
6.) Do not change where you are going just to follow this girl who is not interested in talking to you. This really convinces her you are a serial killer.
7.) Don’t follow her into the cross walk and ask her if she ever ordered fries from the fry truck you both passed 2 blocks ago.
8.) As she continues to not look you in the eye & say no, turning away from you, do not then say “hey, excuse me miss, but where did you get your frames?” as if you haven’t been trying to talk to her for 3 blocks. 3 very long, very awkward blocks.
9.) Please never call glasses “frames” because who does that?
10.) Please don’t nearly follow her into her office (until you realize she is going into that big building that you don’t have access to), say goodbye and go BACK across the street from where you just came from, because then she’ll really be convinced you’re going to stalk her office and murder her on that weird stretch of 6th Avenue by the Sleepy’s.
(The subtitle of this post was going to be “Why Is This Every Dude That’s Into Me…Ever?”)
1.) It is stupid
2.) It is tiring
3.) It is annoying
4.) I am over it
5.) I am done trying to be open to the idea that I should somehow date and involve myself in shenanigans of the heart.
[a.] You know what makes this all the worst? THE INTERNET. The internet has ruined people. I say this…on the internet. I KNOW, I AM RUINED, TOO.
6.) “I’m focusing on my career.”
7.) See how melofuckingdramatic this shit makes me?
8.) It’s way more fun to hang out with boys when you don’t have to theorize about the possibility of spending an extended period of your life with them.
Goodbye FOREVER, OKCupid. You suck and I never liked you, anyway!
Now, let’s move on, shall we? Back to just getting rejected in real life!
