1. This won't work on all ladyfaces. In fact, it will probably get you arrested. Pervert.
2. This post contains graphic and potentially triggering
content about rape fantasy.
So, at risk of alienating my handful of followers...here it is:
I never know when a blogworthy thought will get caught in the
lint trap of my brain, so I end up writing most of my bloggy posts on the
notepad app on my iPhone. It’s
awkward, frequently frustrating and really only a small step up from scribbling
on the soggy cocktail napkins I napkin-nap from beneath my virgin martinis.* This is one such thought:
I would really like to one day date a hot transguy or butch woman who cares enough to plan my abduction and gang rape in the woods, on the docks,
in a train yard or some other deserted terrifying place that smells like must,
rust and decay where nobody could hear me scream and each of his badass friends
could use me and abuse me until I collapsed in a useless trembling heap. Then he would wrap me in a blanket, carry me to his or her truck, take me home and give me me a bath. And I would kiss his vicious hands as we fall asleep together. Really universe, is that so much to ask?
I wrote this on my magic phone while waiting in the
chiropractors office but when I typed in transguys the predictive text
suggested ‘tea huts’. Dammit
phone, way to ruin the mood. I had
just transformed this chiropractors waiting room into the sexiest chiropractors
waiting room in the world and you morphed hot transguys into hot teahuts.
I’d much rather visit a hot transguy than a hot teahut. And if I were to ever visit a ‘tea
hut’’ I’d like it to be cool or even chilly but definitely not hot. Oh, and nicely decorated with a Frenchy
Bohemian feel. Like this:
But maybe a bit bigger and more colorful. Actually, that
doesn’t sound so bad. It could be
built out of repurposed windows like a tea-hut-greenhouse but with an old
Persian rug to cover the dirt floor, a squishy old wingback chair for reading
and writing with the pup at my feet and antique birdcages full of pretty
pastries. Ooo, I like this
plan. So much for transguys, I’m
on a tea hut mission!
(though I wouldn’t object to violent sex with a pushy pervert
in my fancy tea hut)
*virgin martini (n): water with olives, served up.
