Shit Men Say (vol. 4)


The husband: I was really horny last night.

Me: What!? And you didn’t tell me!?

The husband: You were sleeping.

Me: So!? Wake. Me. UP.

The husband: I tried…

Me: Then just put it in!

The husband: I am not going to just put it in.

Me: You have my consent, for now and ever after, if you ever want sex, just get started and I’ll join you.

Feminists. (Just kidding, kind of).


Dark Daddy: I was pretty pissed off with the way you ended this before it even started.

Me: I’m sorry if I upset you. I know what I want, and I don’t think I should have to convince someone to give it to me.

Dark Daddy: Right. Well, good luck in your search.

Translation: “you will never find what you are looking for.”

I didn’t bother telling him that my search is over, and that he should keep his luck.


Random Gropey Dude: I treated you with respect. You are being unfair.

What I would have said, had I bothered to respond: You told me I looked better without my glasses, you told me I should get hair extensions, you said you wanted to kiss me and then you took my boobs OUT OF MY SHIRT, you are not a good kisser, you kept pressuring me to agree to a surprise play date and wouldn’t give me any details on content or location, and you decided you were going to nickname me “sensual chocolate” (barf) before we even met. Fuck off, dude.


Dude I went on a date with last night because I promised weeks ago and didn’t want to cancel: I’m a conspiracy theorist.

Dude……..: I believe I can live forever.

Dude……..:(after my describing what I do at work): You moved all the way here for that?

At least I got three pink martinis and a steak out of it.


Sugar Daddy: Just because I didn’t give you what you need emotionally, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re spectacular.

Sugar Daddy (re: how he feels about his girlfriend of four years): I think she’s great, but how attached am I? Meh.

Why am I even speaking to him, let alone fucking him? It is starting to make my skin crawl.

Go Slow



Do not tell me that you “know” what I “need”, when you don’t even know me.

Do not tell me you are not like other men, and then put my hand on your cock during dinner.

Do not take off my glasses and tell me I look better without them–especially when you’re wearing glasses yourself.

Do not say you’re about more than just sex, and then expect me to put out anyway.

Do not tell me what to wear, how to be, what to think.

Do not ask me to be anything other than me.

I do not need you–any of you.

I can get sex any time, any place–I want more.

Slow, does not mean, please pull my tits out of my dress when you drop me off at home.

Slow, does not mean, please rush through our first date as quickly as possible, and pressure me into being tied up and blindfolded by the second date.

When I say slow, I mean slow like honey.

Natural. Sweet. Evolving.

Put away your agenda.

Get to know me.

See my value beyond just a place for you to stick your cock.

Don’t ask me about sex–ask me about life.

We have all the time in the world.

Go slow.


Turn Me Off



One thing that really bothers me, is when men brag about their sexual prowess. It is just not a turn-on. Bragging, in general, smacks of insecurity. If you know you are great, there is no reason to talk about it all the time. Please don’t tell me you will be the best I have ever had. How could you possibly know that? Have you had sex with every person I’ve had sex with?

Another reason this annoys me, is because sex isn’t a contest. Sometimes it is an intimate expression of your relationship with someone. Most of the time, for me, it is a playful, intense experience of humanness. It’s going to be different with everyone, because everyone is different. Saying you are the best at sex, from my perspective, is like saying you’re the best at self-expression. There is no way to quantify that.

There is no best musician, no best artist, no best poet. It’s just not a thing. Sex is the same.

In the same vein, I get beyond irritated when asked if they are better than another partner I’ve had, or have. It is disrespectful, and the type of question that hardly inspires honesty. What am I supposed to say? “No, compared to guys x, y, and z, you kind of suck?”

And what would they say if another woman asked them the same question? “Yes, you are better than bad little good girl? No, she is better than you?” It’s a problematic line of inquiry all around.

I like lovers who are confident enough in themselves that they don’t even need to think about that. They like sex, they enjoy it, they please their partner and have a good time, and they don’t need to talk about how good they are at handling their dick, or have their ego boosted by forcing a woman to tell them he’s the best she’s ever had.

No one is the best I’ve ever had. I’ve had great experiences and less great experiences. Incredible chemistry and inadequate chemistry. Playful sex, intense sex, emotional sex, rough sex, sensual sex. I’ve had marathons and quickies. Vanilla sex, and kinky sex. Public sex, private sex, taboo sex, intimate sex and anonymous sex.

I enjoy the experience and variety. I don’t compare, and you shouldn’t either.

One Sick Motherfucker

He decided he wanted to be friends, and I said yes. Because I wanted answers. And he unleashed a level of ugly that shocked me, even after everything.


Me: Just tell me one thing, and after that I swear I will never bring it up again.

Him: And what’s that?

Me: Why? I just want to know why. Why did replace me like that? Why couldn’t you treat me like a person?

Him:You really don’t understand the cold distance of a Master, do you?

Me: No, I do not.

Him: Once you understand how someone can abuse someone that they have feelings for, you will understand the cold distance

Me: Okay. Well, I guess that sums up why we are not together. Thank you.

Him: Just remember the cuddles and spoons–just to mess with the logical equation.

Me: I don’t understand.

Him: You don’t understand the complexity of ownership.

Me: No, I get it…at least from your perspective. You pay for it, you use it, then you throw it away and if it’s lucky it gets recycled into a friend with benefits.

Him: I NEVER throw away property without ownership issues.

Me: Like not being able to be topped and insulted by an 18 year old who doesn’t know her place? I have never had an issue being a secondary before…bitch was out of control. She would not get in line and you didn’t make her.

Him: Know your place, slut. You’ll top, or be topped, by whoever I choose. After that outburst you’ll have your tongue BURIED in my ass. And you’ll be introduced to watersports.

Me: If you are going to tell me I’m someone’s top, and then change your mind, there are going to be problems. I need to be able to trust you. That’s why we’re not together anymore. And I’m not your submissive, so if you think I’m licking your ass or being pissed on by you, you can just move along.

Him: You are mine…not the other way around.

Me: I’m not yours!!!You shattered me!!! If you want a submissive I suggest you call Jailbait.

Him: She’s already my toy in all ways. And yes, you are mine.

Me: Good. And no, I am not fucking yours.

Him: Who else made you splatter cunt fluid as much as I did?

Me: Yeah, that was probably pee.

Him: LOL

Me: You’re an asshole, you know that?

Him: And yet, we still want to fuck each other to death.

Me: Particularly the death part.

Him: That’s just mean.

Me: Oh, he bleeds?

Him: Rarely. . .but I was hurt by you.

Me: Oh? Were you now? How did this piece of property hurt its owner?

Him: She forgot its place.

Me: YOU gave me my place! And then you took it away and expected me to just smile and be fucked. And I didn’t even fight you. I shed a few tears and left to avoid making a scene.

Him: You need a hard face slap.

Me: And you need a heart transplant. No one has EVER treated me as bad as you did.  You made me uncomfortable, you hurt me, you painted me into corners and expected me not to feel, and then you blamed me for it! You made me believe in love again, and then you devastated me.

Him: You need to be collared, abused, pissed on and told what to think.

Me: And you need to stop hating women. Submission is a gift…you don’t get it by being a cold hearted motherfucker.

Him: You abused my level of adoration for you. You became possessive where it wasn’t necessary, and downright rude.

Me: All I wanted or needed was for you to say, “I understand why you’re upset.” That was it. That was ALL.

Him: You need to be marked as territory so you know you’re property.

Me: Say it. Fucking Say it.

Him: You’re going to be my fucking toy.

Me: Say it.

Him: You’re upset because you didn’t know your place.

Me: I’m upset because you don’t give a shit about me.

Him: Really!???!!

Me: Really!!!!

Him: That’s crap.

Me: You want to do whatever you want, and you don’t care if it jeopardizes whatever the fuck it was we had. You think I don’t know my place but you are just angry because I was upset, and you didn’t want me to be.

Him: You need a good piss on and face slap.

Me: You need to learn to tell the truth and keep your word, even when it’s inconvenient to the whims of your cock.

Him: It’s nice to hear the opinion of property.

Me: Okay. Dumped. Not yours.

Him: Once you think about how I’ve treated you better than any other Owner/Master/Daddy, you can apologize.

Me: Except you haven’t. You’ve made it clear you have zero respect for me. I just wanted your cock but I’ve even gone off that.

Him: You’ll still beg for it

Me: Fuck you.


Unreal, right? The man is truly demented. I feel like I spent the past two months with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I am actually endlessly grateful for this conversation–if I had any doubts whatsoever, they have completely evaporated. He is one sick motherfucker.

I’m ready to move on.


Threesomes: The Bargaining Chip

Yesterday, for not the first time, after telling a man I would not be seeing him anymore, a threesome was used as a bargaining chip. I find this to be both hilarious and pathetic.

The first time it happened, was after I broke it off with Mr. I.T. He tried all kinds of things to try to persuade me to continue seeing him, and then finally threw out the threesome card. He had started talking to a woman online who was interested in a threesome with us, and thought that this would convince me to give it another try. Um, no.

Last night I told The Big Mistake that I would not be seeing him anymore. It had been a terrible idea from the start, and it needed to end. After weeks of putting him off with excuses and hoping he’d get the hint, I finally told him that it was over. He tried the “I just want to have you one more time,” and a bunch of other similarly overused lines, and then came out with “But I just found a girl who was into having a threesome!”

I get it. I really do. For men, a threesome is one of the most common fantasies there is. Finding a bisexual woman who is willing to do this is like hitting the jackpot. This is probably why so many of the men I meet start obsessing over making it happen, and frantically searching for a third. However, I find this attitude to be pretty immature and a huge turn-off. I like threesomes. I am into men and women, so it can be fun to be with both at once. But it’s not necessarily the kind of thing I want to search for. I like it when it happens spontaneously, because the chemistry happens to be right between three people. I like it when I’ve had the chance to get to know a couple, flirt a bit, and if it leads there, great. I do not like it when I am sleeping with a man, and he suggests we put up a profile as a couple on a sex site to see if we can find a woman. I do not like it when I am sleeping with a man and he asks if I have any friends who would be interested, and then refuses to accept my answer when I say that none of my friends who would be into it are local. I do not like it when I make plans with a man and he orders me to find a woman, saying he will even pay. WTF? I’m strapped for cash too, if you’re paying her, you’re paying me! Just kidding (but not really).

All this to say, I get it. I get that finding a kinky bisexual girl  is a big deal and the closest they’ve ever been to their threesome fantasy. But I am that bisexual girl. We are in high demand for this purpose, so I can have a threesome whenever I want. The fact that you are desperate to have one is not a bargaining chip, is a little insulting, and frankly makes me wonder if you were ever that into me or if you just want to be with two women at once. Especially when you are willing to hire a prostitute to make that happen!

It is not going to lure me back. I am not desperate to have a threesome. Let it go.

What Are You Wearing?

Can we discuss the nuances of this question?

Sometimes men I talk to online will ask me what I plan to wear on a date. I find it slightly offensive. It puts a lot of pressure on me to wear something really slutty and sexy–and frankly, I don’t see why it matters. If we are meeting for sex, my clothes will be hitting the floor soon enough.

Not only that, but the one man I met who asked me this repeatedly (Mr. IT, if you remember that trainwreck), would show up looking less than stellar himself. I would show up in a tube top and short skirt, mostly because I felt like I had to, and he would show up in a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts–one vertically striped, one horizontally striped. I’m not one to judge based on wardrobe, but if a man is going to imply that I need to look hot, then he should make an effort to look equally presentable. Throw the clothes in the dryer for five minutes, and pick out a top that matches your bottoms. Just sayin’.

My Dom also frequently asks what I’m wearing. I feel like he has more of a right to do so because his job is to sexualize me, not to make me feel comfortable. However, I’m never quite sure what to make of the inquiry. He doesn’t ask me what I’m going to wear on a date, unless he specifically tells me what clothes he wants me in (he has promised to tell me to wear old clothes sometimes so he can rip them off me–yum), but he will randomly ask what I have on at any given time. Does he want what I’m wearing to be sexy?

I’m a stay at home mom who works with children part-time. I hate to shatter the illusion, people, but I’m usually decked out in jeans and a t-shirt. In the summer if I’m hanging out at home I can often be found in nothing but my undies, but I can guarantee you I am not dressed in slut-wear unless there’s a specific reason for me to do so.

So I wonder, does he want the real answer? Or does he want to hear what will turn him on? Should I admit I’m wearing cut-offs and a white wife-beater? Or does he want me to say I’m in stockings, a garter, a skirt and see-through blouse?

What is the correct answer to this question? Men and women both, chime in please!