The Tinder Trilogy; (1) A sexualised Ostrich!!
Written by 2021 MistyMyCat on November 19, 2021
“This was a dumb idea”, I think, as what feels like the hundredth conversation with a man turns into a debate about where his dick could and should be shoved. A pencil sharpener? At least the conversation would acquire some kind of point.
Let’s recap. I was a woman. (temporarily mind, the boobs were great but the periods sucked ass) I was on tinder. I was harassed. I lasted a total of three days before deleting my Tinder account out of sheer anger, disgust and sadness. In fact I had to ring a friend after the deletion of said account because I was in utter despair of what I had endured and witnessed. I was shaken to the core. I was ready to abandon my gender (pen knife in one hand and penis in the other).
So let me recount some hilariously, terrifying tales from the tinder zoo that got me to this point.
To begin with I started matching with 20 to 30 year old men. I am shocked and surprised that I was actually pretty impressed by you lot. Yes you were horny as fuck (often I was concerned about your wellbeing around potentially fuckable kitchen appliances) but you were not ridiculously pervy. So sincerely well done guys! The funniest incident I had with this age range was one guy trying to impress me with the fact he loved the FILM ‘Ru Paul’.
So unimpressed by the lack of gross perviness on display that I had been pinky promised by so many, I decided to change the age range for matches to 40+. Oh dear Christ! As it turns out a 25 year old girl is catnip for perverts this age. I was essentially a scantily clad red flag to their bull-ocks. Seriously my phone started shaking more than my Auntie Frankie’s vibrator during an earthquake. 100 likes in an hour and at least 50 messages. Where to begin?
I will call exhibit A: Timon and Pumba (They were both animals and one was most definitely a pig). “Fancy getting together for some fun?” “Boy, do I!” I thought naively. What will it be? Cinema, bowling, food or even maybe a cheeky romantic stroll? Aw he said he can accommodate me. How cute! Oh his friend said hi! This is awesome… what were these ladies on about? Apparently I look naughty. (I had just eaten a whole bar of Dairy Milk… how did he know?) Aw he wants me sat between him and his friend. I am already meeting his friend. This is progressing nicely. Hmmm he wants the heating up? It is rather cold I suppose. Considerate really, ain’t he? Oh wait… there’s a new message. Have I ever had a threesome? Hmmm… this seems to have turned as quickly, as cream left in the sun.
OK, sure he wants me to rub stuff on him plus said friend, to suck stuff but maybe this is salvageable. What position is my favourite? Ummm…centre forward. Do you think he means football?
Nope, definitely not football. They want to take turns doing stuff to me like some weird ass version of tag. I have a sneaky suspicion these guys are interested in sex only. Call me Sherlock, I have cracked this case. Ok, they seem to be on a rather one track mind, let’s try something. ‘I went to Notamaningshire University. I have some smarts too’. (Reread that for me) Nope, none the wiser. I had confessed the entire situation but they remained blinded by their sexual desire. Ok, let’s have some fun with this.
I protest ‘I am more than boobs. I am a heart, I am a soul, I am a mind, I am a vagina’. ‘You look sexy’ they say apparently oblivious to my self worth speech. ‘Really! I think I look kind of masculine’ I reply (tis funny because it is true). ‘I don’t know if I am up for sex. Just had surgery. It was a bit of a shock and happened over night’ (The sudden nature of this sex change has taken some time to get use to after all). Hmmm, let’s see how far this can go. ‘I didn’t expect them to take the whole toe. I think it is infected and it smells like a tuna sandwich’. Hmmmm the sex stuff seems to halt here and apologies are abound for suggesting a threesome.
The next exhibit is a rather angry specimen. ‘I live in [retracted for confidentiality] in a detached house on my own that I own outright’. Now me being me I thought I would have a laugh, ‘I am situated on a train right now but I don’t own it outright’. That was cute and kinda hilarious. Can’t wait for the chuckles to roll in. ‘What an idiot. Don’t waste my time’. Oh that backfired. I apologised explaining it was a mere joke and I seem to be forgiven. I elaborate that we probably won’t be suitable because I like to have fun and laugh. I wish him the best of luck. ‘Oh fuck off. Time waster’. Now, I may have a few theories as to why you may be single. Also how much time did I reasonably waste, we talked for five minutes. I can barely fit in a shit in that time.
The next exhibit is a self confessed ‘everything man’. His top 5 sexual hobbies are:
2. Licking a lass out
3. Licking and sucking feet
4. Rough dominating fucking
5. Adventurous fucking
This reads like a horny shopping list where the items could only be found in the ‘from behind’ aisle in Lidl. To be fair monopoly sounds considerably more exciting than option 1 through to 5. He exclaims “I can be the board”. Now let’s examine the practicalities of this set up. One, it is not a flat playing surface which makes traversing said board tough. Two, I do not want my little miniature metal figure of a top hat to fall into any cracks or crevices. Three, what is the board layout. Where do I shove my piece when I need to go to jail? Will you be happy with a small dog lodged up your butt hole?
The next exhibit is rather short but nonetheless horrific: the punchy one liner.
(Slams door in face)
Told you it was short lived.
Some specimens actually read my brief profile description, mainly honing on the nickname ‘jugs’ as being indicative of my breast size. “No!” I shouted to disappointed ears “it is because I can down a pitcher in Wetherspoons”. One fellow noted it could not possibly be because I liked showing them as I had not sent him an image yet. No, random stranger, I did not fancy revealing my busty bosom to thou within five minutes of knowing you. Call me frigid! There are plenty of breasts in the Lidl chilled section, go masturbate elsewhere.
Some individuals honed in on the footsie skills. One festive individual enquired if footsie would be allowed at Christmas dinner too or is that off limits. To which I replied I am more of a stuffing kind of girl. At Toby Carvery I could quite literally have a whole plate full of the stuff, screw the meat. (Poorly phrased, apologies) Furthermore, imagine this scenario. “Hey Great Nana Pat… this is…. ummmmm… Greg…. I think… oh no this is Steve. He likes my feet. I might toss him off under the table later. Enjoy the bread sauce, love you Nana”
Another suggested there was a lot more to do under a table than footsie. He told me he would convince me to be in a short skirt. To which I simply replied; “how the fuck would you convince me to wear a short skirt it is fucking freezing outside?” My fufu would look like an artic cave with icicles dangling down. He conceded this was a flaw, however, expressed a desire to run his fingers up my leg. To which I exclaimed ‘I am hairy as fuck. A proper lockdown Muffalo’ to which he responded that he could get me smooth again.
Oddly this wasn’t the only time shaving came up. I had apparently been in one man’s dreams already. Impressive considering I had known him a mere five minutes. Though possibly I had put him to sleep during our brief conversation. He said the dream involved numerous expensive luxuries that he all owned. He said I would look beautiful in a hot tub but I disagreed citing my ‘lockdown fuzz’ as the central issue. I claimed it looked like a coconut. The offer to aid me in shaving arose again before he became seemingly aroused at the comparison of my vagina to a door mat then a hedgehog (hey, if woodland critters do it for you…. umm… actually seek medical help. Though can we call hedgehog sex: pricking a prick) ? I was offered the options of either wax or a razor to deal with my muffro (I recommended shears to deal with the scale of the broccoli field growing below).
There was one man who I convinced I liked bird watching. “That isn’t so weird” you may think “it is actually quite sweet”. It was bird watching pigeons to be specific. Then the man unexpectedly started to rap off birds like a twitcher and I was for a while lost in an aviary of confusion. I was out of my depth here. Then he circled back to the bird I do know about; pigeons. He suggested we go looking for pigeons together. Now I feel that may be a short search. Head to any town centre and the flying rats are fucking everywhere flapping in unexpecting pedestrian’s faces. He did concede he would be staring at me the whole time to which I replied unsettled ‘I am just gonna be looking at those pigeons’. (Priorities are very much established here. Pigeons>>>>>>Everything else) “I may just have to distract you”. This is where I drew a line and thus ended the conversation. Fair enough if you are distracted from a pigeon gathering but please do not try to disrupt my enjoyment of this natural miracle.
A lot of the men I talked to I told, I did not enjoy sex. Did this deter them? Fuck no! One man hailed his tongue as the cure to my lack of sexual desire. Like one lick would cause me to pack my bags, kiss my Mum goodbye and pursue a career in Amsterdam in the red light district. Someone get this man’s tongue to the Middle East, he can lick it into peace.
I will leave you for now with one of my genuine favourites. A man asked me my fantasy. I thought long and hard to think of something unsexual and weird. “To run free like an ostrich” I said confidently in the fact that no perverted interpretation could be divulged. Without hesitation the three dots started to whirl around knowingly of what was coming. “I have an image with you on all fours with a feather poking out your bum”. Now that… that right there… that was unexpected. I was sort of dumbfounded so simply replied “well that is dumb because ostriches are on two feet… you moron”.
I have a few more extraordinary stories from the tinder zoo that I will do another blog post on soon. However, I need to say thank you, so, so much for your continued support and for some reason finding me funny. I hope this post was worth the wait as a reward and sign of my appreciation. You will never know how much you lot and this blog has saved me. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.