just a girl trying to decipher her life through hashtags, miley, basic betches, and wondering how she is always a mistress.

Trolling on Tinder

In my singledom and boredom I have accidentally become a Tinder troll. I want so badly to find my other half but am going about it the complete wrong way. I get too nervous and built up to really meet people off of the app…even though four (i’m not even kidding you) of my friends have real life  boyfriends directly from this app. I just cannot take people seriously when all I know about them are 1-5 pictures of their life and a corny or offensive bio that either makes me laugh because I feel pity for their wit, or cry because I have yet to find a feminist on the app and it makes me lose hope for the world.

Since I cannot take them seriously, I allow my immature and rowdy side of my personality to take control of my thumbs…and sometimes other parts of my body, to escape my lonely world that consists of a healthy balance between going to work and watching Big Brother. So this results in the same orgasmic finale from this awful and extremely recent random stranger sexting habit. I’m a coward, so unless there is an insanely gorgeous man who speaks seven languages, has jet black hair and eyebrows on fleek and who probably accidentally swiped right, then I’m not going to start the conversation. Because of this, all of the incredibly horny men message me with things like “DTF?” or  “I’m conducting a survey on what percentage of women loves anal…”. The latter conversation didn’t go so well and he unmatched me after I ended up telling him that I believed in equality when he wasn’t thrilled about me wearing a strap on. So then I was discouraged for three days and almost deleted the app.

But then sometimes I just look past the bullshit and accept the nasty messages for what they really are, and I begin to embrace them. These men (boys rather) are stroking their boners while looking at pictures of me and since I am so incredibly desperate, at this point I find it flattering and even, when I’m especially horny, extremely sexy.

It has gotten to the point where I have live snapchatted a guy just to talk dirty to him and watch him rub himself till he came. I feel disgusted by myself to even admit that this was so incredibly hot for me. I never knew you could “live snapchat” someone, and I certainly embraced my first time like a champ. There was something so naughty about talking to this guy (I had my screen blacked out the whole time so he could just hear me) while watching him touch his junk.

The problem now is that I feel like I cannot break out of this troubling persona I have created for myself. I will even have normal conversations with guys and then all of the sudden they want to snap chat and I know I should never give my snapchat ID out to strangers but I can’t stop myself.

Then, just like a one-night stand, I end up waking up the next morning feeling lower than I had the day before, just to look on tinder to find that my catches for that day had unmatched me…as if throwing an ugly fish back into the sea of Tinder. I had made them cum once, they had won that battle, and now they have no desire to ever meet me and never hear the sound of my voice or experience the smell of my hair. It’s a devastating punch in the pussy and hurts every time, but I cannot break from this pathetic habit.


My Take on the Dreadful and Diminishing Subject of FOB Relationships

In case you’ve been out of social and sexual reality for the past ten years, then FOB simply stands for “friends with benefits” a concept that on the exterior does not seem that bad. So, you have a good guy/girl (just) friend and why not fill your carnal needs with this somewhat attractive person. Obviously it’s been the main subject of movies and pretty much every millennial’s life. And as everyone already knows, one or both of the people involved in this destructive relationship end up falling in love. aww.

I’m going to rewind this real quick. Why does it always go straight from sex-friends to deep and passionate, the “I can’t live without you” love? Welcome to real life, but that’s not how it always happens. If you ask me, the whole falling in love scenario is the easiest way out. From my experience it hasn’t been that simple.

My currently established FOB relationship is with someone who I most certainly know it not my knight in shining armor, soulmate, other half of me. Charming he may be, but he is far from Mr. Right, which is why this situation is ideal. We find each other attractive, we are friends in the sense that we can hang out sober and know some of each other’s friends. Perfect FOB situation right? WRONG.

Perhaps it is my inescapable Scorpio flaw to be the world’s most jealous temptress. Or maybe it is something that other people experience and are able to suppress it with their “on that fuck it flow” attitude. But I cannot stand that this FOB of mine is having sex with other people.

This is my reasoning:

*I repeat that I do not want this person to be my boyfriend (this is not a delicate, ladylike denial thing. Its fo real)*

1) I do not want to hear about/think about him having sex with other girls- especially days or even hours before and after me (I just think this is gross and realize not everyone will share this opinion)

2) To continue off this last point, Yes! I am in fact jealous. Sorry that I would, during this (probably fleeting) time in ours         lives want to be the only girl that is making you cum on a regular basis. This probably means that deep down inside I am a “relationship girl” but on the exterior people don’t take me seriously enough to be one and plus I haven’t meant my soulmate…so for now I have to wait and have sex with alternates.

3) I don’t like if I contact him I have to consider that he might be with another girl which does nothing to fix my boredom and horniness. That’s what he’s there for anyway.

4) I also feel like this strange sex kitten that he is trying to play with and try weird fetishes on that he doesn’t know if he’s actually into them or not. Believe me, I always want to try new things with new people, and maybe this is a case-by-case basis, but I don’t like being the test rat to find out what you actually like- figure that out then come (cum?) to me.

I realize that most of this may be my own personal problem and I need to figure it out myself. But, I wanted to write about it in case there are other women and men out there who feel the same way and we can commiserate together because let’s get real, we are still gonna have sex with them at the beginning, middle and/or end of the day.

Why #Instagram is actually a good thing

Whenever I’m filling out Buzzfeed quizzes about who my celeb bf should be (Benedict Cumberbatch duh), the social media question always pops up and I always know the answer. Obviously my favorite app is Instagram. Here are my reasons:

#Hashtags. Are amazing. I love them. My friends would definitely call me obsessed. My original fascination with them began when I first got a twitter three years ago. I didn’t understand how to use them and definitely did not understand the point of them. I eventually got the hang of them, and then my world opened up. I was able to connect with so many strangers by discovering that they use the same hashtags as me. I can now see who people’s #WCWs are and what they wanna #TBT. I just feel like they’re magical and it’s even more magical knowing that some of your hashtags are original and you have one hashtag that no one else has created yet.

To continue my rant on the grandeur of hashtags- Instagram doesn’t have a character limit. So unlimited hashtags. also who doesn’t wanna hashtag things like #instaglam or #foodporn.

Instagram makes people stop and try to take a picture of something they think is beautiful. Whether it’s a selfie, food, a beautiful day, or  your vacation in Europe, you try to take a picture that makes people see the beauty in whatever your taking a picture of. I have instagrammed by food and I know that people think it’s so #basic, but it made me stop and appreciate it for thirty more seconds. I looked at the colors and shapes and tried to pick a filter and adjust the brightness perfectly for this meal to look delectable to other people too.

So why not stop and enjoy the beauty that Instagram brings? be a part of the network of people loving their life and creating beauty while indulging in this amazing world.

The New Years Hype

The minute Christmas was over it seemed like all of my friends were scrambling to figure out their new years plans. I was still worried about making some perfect hot cocoa, wrapping myself in a new flannel blankie and hanging out with my dogs while not planning to go anywhere. I hadn’t had much social interaction for about 10 days and I was feeling safe at home in my little bubble of bliss. But, my friends wanted me to come visit them in their hometown about three hours away and while I was thinking about the potential instagrams, exploration of new bars, the chance to find my soul mate, and the depression I would inevitably go into if I didn’t have an exciting snapchat story to share, I decided to go.

Before I knew it, the champagne was poppin and so was the energy. When we finally made it to bars after blasting some Slim Shady, I was ready for my snapchat story to get ratchet and my manhunt to begin. Our friend group had somewhat coupled off but I was still prowling in a way that desperately led me to hit on 50 plus year old men who did not have the sexy factor I was looking for. Before I knew it, the ball had dropped in Times Square and I thought I had dropped the ball on finding a new years kiss. I did a 360 scan of the room when I locked eyes with a twenty-something blond guy and politely asked if he wanted to make out before we shoved our tongues down each other’s throats in the brightly lit sports bar that fate had brought us both to. After I forced him to buy me a drink, we went our separate ways.

When last call was made my friends called a guy they knew who was sober enough to drive us home, I called shot gun because I always get carsick-even sober. Luckily for me the driver had the cutest fucking chihuahua I had ever seen in my life and my infatuation soared while I stroked that little pup. When we got back to my friend’s house we all chatted for a while when mr. chihuahua owner grabbed me by the arm and begged me to take shots with him since he wasn’t drunk. I knew where this was headed immediately. So I obviously said yes. We stayed up till 7 am chatting where he unloaded nonsense about his fiance and how he had never and will never cheat on anyone in his life (yet another encounter that fits into my blog post “Once A Mistress Always A Mistress?). Before I knew it we were making out and hitting third base in my friend’s brother’s bed while the chihuahua stared into my eyes the whole time.

So although there is a social media pressure to have a good new years, and people are always scared they will be missing out on something special. If you get sloppy drunk enough and wear a new pair of shoes that makes you feel like Scarlett Johansson, your sexy new years dreams will come true. Take it from me.

Giving my first BJ

I was a late bloomer in my senior year of high school with my boyfriend thing who I didn’t actually reallyy like but he gave me the attention I had been craving since I hit puberty so I let our relationship blossom. He was my first kiss, second base, and even third base. I was terrified every step of the way. I kinda knew what I was doing but kinda not. I wasn’t completely in the shadows with what a penis was and how to work it. I had definitely done my research. I read some Cosmopolitan magazines over the years and had experimented with watching porn and reading online erotica. At the same time, I felt that I knew I didn’t want him to be my first BJ. I just didn’t like him enough and I had lived a sheltered life that made me feel guilty about all of this.

It was about to be easter break and he was going home for the long weekend. I went over to our school to visit him, which did I mention was a boarding school? I was a day student and he lived on campus so I thought I would visit him before he drove home. I was assuming we would make out a little bit in a random lounge and then say goodbye. He had other plans, which I knew would eventually be a step in our relationship, but was not expecting them this very afternoon. We met up, decided to go into the empty glee club room, which is located in the basement of his dorm. It has some chairs, standard white plastic tile flooring and a piano. We kept the lights off so people wouldn’t see the light was on if they were walking in the hallway. There’s no lock on the door so it made things kinda risky. In most cases this would make things more sexy- but this experience was definitely anything but sexy. Like a typical high school boy he pulled the moves out- making out, fingering, eventually leading to him taking my paisley purple thong off and going down on me for probably about two minutes and fifteen seconds before he was ready for me to reciprocate the favor. Obviously I did not cum.

So before I knew it he sprawled across that white tiled floor while unbuckling his belt from his Levi’s and pulling his hard dick out like it was a piece of Tiffany’s jewelry. Gawd it was gross, but I felt obligated. Even though I felt prepared, I had still never had a dick in my mouth so it’s kinda something you have to physically do once to really understand. It’s not as glamorous as porn makes it seem. Unless of course it’s a nice dick on a nice guy you really like. So i start kinda tugging on it. Licking it I guess. And for some goddamn reason there was a recent Cosmo article stuck in my head which had a thesis along the lines of, “if you do it right, guys love teeth”. So as you can imagine I wanted to experiment and tried to incorporate this into the BJ. Obviously he immediately said “uhm less teeth please” and I died a little on the inside from pure embarrassment and it pains me to admit this even happened. He didn’t go soft though and before I knew it his warty hands were bobbing my head and forcing his dick further down my throat till he came. That part wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was happy it was over. But damn did I feel dirty. I felt like a used and abused rag doll. I regretted it and wished I had waited. At the same time though, it’s probably best I got that over and done with before college, where a whole other slew of weird sex shit would be thrown upon me.

The consequences though were way worse. First, the first person I saw as a walking back to my car was the reverend of our school who always gives me great comments on report cards and interim reports. I felt a stab in my stomach as if the acts I just performed were being watched by God himself with Jesus and all the angels. My guilt hit a new level of high and I hated myself. Second, my bf sent me an awkward text saying he usually fully pleases a girl and felt bad because he was unsure if I came or not. #boysaredumb. Third and the worst, the next day at school everyone comes up to me, including my assistant lacrosse coach and informs me that this bf has told everyone in the school that I had sex with him. My poor virginal self couldn’t handle this reality and almost broke up with him. But I HAD to have a date for prom so I hung on till then.

Betches and Birthdays

My birthday is tomorrow and obviously I’m stoked. My birthday week has already commenced and while I don’t have too many extravagant plans (I had a cray party last year featuring a rap band in my apt. that can never be topped)- It’s still my favorite day of the year. While I already got an amazing crafty gift from one of my best friends, and received my first unexpected gift from a male suitor, which ended up being my first vibrator, I just can’t wait for a day where it’s all about me. So here is my list why birthdays-especially those when you’re in your twenties- are the best:

1) Alllll da fb posts and love. Everyone on social media can see how many friends you have.

2) The texts from expected people (aka close friends and family) and my favorite: the unexpected people (aka the random exes, girlfriends you haven’t talked to in five years, or the people who you never knew had your number)

3) The free drinks and shots (plus friends and parents usually pay for your bday dinner)

4) Presents

5) Being able to skip classes and not feeling guilty cause let’s get real- it’s ya birthdayyyy

6) Birthday hugs/kisses/sex

7) Being allowed to act like a spoiled princess and #basicbetch

My Favorite Place in the World

Imagine the most cliche place to experience magical romance, delectable wine, and amazing culture. Paris. There is a reason why everyone is so obsessed with it. I am one of those people who have been captivated by its charm, but in a way where I truly believe Paris is a part of my soul and I know that there is a spiritual connection with it that I simply cannot explain.

I went to Paris for the first time when I was twelve years old. I was a rising seventh grader looking to truly discover something in this world that made me confident and happy. I was very unsure of myself and my abilities as a growing woman and person. I am from a small town and had never been on an airplane before. My teacher and mentor took me on a trip that would have the most lasting impressions that I cannot even describe. My mind flickers from that moment of me saying goodbye to my parents, to when I am sitting between two foreign business men on an airplane. I have buckled my seatbelt a half hour before the plane would even take off and I had no idea how to unhook the latch. I freaked out. I convinced myself I had broken my seatbelt and would be stuck on that plane forever. The kind men unlocked the metal clasp and I looked at them with such gratitude and respect. To twelve year old me, they had saved my life. Within seconds my teacher grabs me and moves me to a seat beside her- fully knowing that I was a minnow out of water. Flash forward: I am on a bus traveling through the city of Paris. I see so many new buildings and smell so many foreign smells. I cannot stop looking and smelling and feeling. Everything was magic. The cool air in the Notre Dame. The upwards and sideways elevators on the Eiffel Tower. The mysticism of Mont Saint Michel. The nasty goat yogurt I wanted to throw up. The delicious sausage baskets. My first experience of Jet Lag. My purse filled with disposable cameras. I was inspired.

When I was seventeen I had the privilege of going back. Still an unsure woman. Certain of one thing only: my love for Paris. I stayed for one month, studying abroad with my sister. I smelled the stench of the metro on our commute to school everyday. I lived in the kosher district of the 19th arrondissement. I went to a zoo and listened to a little french girl talk about porcupines with her papa. I had my first tastes of red wine (which at the time I hated, which seems ridiculous to me now). I had my first kiss (on the cheek…by a french guy…it counts for me).

I fell in love with Paris this time in a new way. I was independent. I could speak to strangers and explore it with my sister. A day I will never forget was Bastille Day. We spent the morning in the Parc de Buttes Chaumont and met French naval men at a local fire station where they were holding a daytime ball. I was captivated by them. The way they spoke to me and looked at me. Nothing like men in the US. I have always felt invisible to men here. But something about being in Paris made me get more double takes than my sister- which had never happened before in my life. It reaffirmed my love for Paris. My love for this adventure. This dreamland that actually exists. It fulfills my every desire. If I had to pick between Paris and Sex. I do not know which one I would choose because my soul’s desire craves them both equally. I feel that I cannot have one without the other. They simply seem inseparable. I feel like Paris is what truly took my virginity. My soul’s virginity.

My List of Beautiful Things.

This list will obviously change day to day but this is my top ten list of beautiful things for my feelings and attitude today. Sometimes you just need to make a list that makes you happy and hopeful when you look at it and go “wow, this world is beautiful” and here is mine:

1) Cobblestone streets and sidewalks. (Also simply the word “cobblestone”)

2) Feathers. Think about how soft and delicate they are. They are simply magnificent for something so simple.

3) Accents. I am including every single accent that distinguishes a person. Every accent is beautiful so if you speak a second, third or fourth language and are self-conscious about not sounding like a native speaker let me tell you: your accent is beautiful.

4) Snuggling. With anyone- but snuggling with a puppy is pretty magical

5) Airports. There are so many people with such different stories, going to different places, and struggling with different things that it almost seems like an illusion. I always feel like airports are the one place that I can truly be whoever I want to be.

6) Maps. I’ve always loved them and always will. My obsession was made concrete after reading Maphead by Ken Jennings who shares this same passion (I completely recommend this book)

7) Feeling proud of yourself. Not in an obnoxious arrogant way, but a reflection on something you did or success you created and feeling prideful for a few moments because of it. Feeling proud of your friends and family is a pretty beautiful feeling too.

8) Different currencies. Money is something people use every single day and the details are ignored. Think about the colors you see in the paper bills and the beautiful etchings you see in the coins for a couple seconds. I love coins.

9) Duct Tape. It’s positively amazing and fixes anything. Plus, I only buy the pretty ones that are animal print or chevron.

10) Paris. I have a love hate relationship with the most beautiful (in my opinion) city in the world. But mainly one of love, appreciation, and gratitude. Hate mainly refers to the smells on the metros.


Even my granny has caught onto my obsession with finding my soulmate. Pretty much every week I stumble upon a new crush I have on a potential suitor. If I’m with my friends, sister, mother, or random person who will listen, I firmly state, “I think he is my soulmate”. He could be disguised as a waiter, a classmate who sits in front of me and always pulls off his beanie do damn well, the Middle Eastern man I see waiting at the bus stop, my guy friend’s roommate, or just an innocent passerby that seems to have a striking charm of quiet confidence and hopefully an accent. I am obsessed with all of them. Ever since my first real life crush appeared on the first day of sixth grade, I’ve had a list of crushes. I don’t actually keep a tangible list, but I love to admire them and imagine them showering me in sunflowers and cupcakes when I least expect it. You could say I am a bit of a daydreamer. But I truly cannot help but read stories and chat with happily married couples about their meet-cutes. Sometimes they were meant to be drunken one-night-stands where the duo actually realized that they tolerate each other sober too, and sometimes they are high school sweethearts, and sometimes there is a guy who is set up on a blind date and ends up falling for the girls cousin instead. I am just overly eager to find mine. I refuse to let myself settle and even if I meet my soulmate in a mediocre fashion, it will seem magical to me because ultimately I will be with my soulmate! On the other hand, when talking to my mother about future employers and where I wanna move after college I always bring up the fact that I’m not sure where my soulmate is in the world and it stresses me out.I feel that there is this huge adventure out there for me and my life will turn out to be so exciting that a disney movie will be made about it. It would definitely be a mixture of Around the World in 80 Days, some sort of Mary-Kate and Ashley movie (in the early years- think Passport to Paris), Eat Pray Love, Mamma Mia, all mixed together with some real-life drama similar to the TV show Girls (me being a combination of Hannah and Jessa). The only thing I know about my soulmate is that he has to be imperfect in a way that is completely perfect…and that’s about all I got. These are my thoughts pretty much every morning and every night before I go to sleep when I’m lying in bed (usually alone) and try to fill that emptiness with hope. I know other girls must do this too and please don’t consider me crazy. Just a girl trying to figure shit out with exaggerations to fill this empty void.

Confusion While in Pursuit of Sexual Pleasure

I feel like sometimes there is a fine line between abusers, and people who are just manipulative and mean. Through my experiences, especially in college being a young naive freshman, it is hard to decipher if the problem was purely my young naiveté against that of cunning men who took advantage of me. I always convince myself that there was only miscommunication. That perhaps it was me who put myself in the situations that made me feel like utter shit. Did the guys know how much it tortured me to feel like such used trash? I am convinced that it is solely the fact that the guys were ignorant of my feelings, which in large part could be because I was and am such a poor communicator about what I want. Mostly, though, it’s because I do not know what I want.  How am I supposed to? I am a young woman, in a world of confusing sexuality and relationships. I am trying to figure out what I want and need. I know that I want to be touched, felt, and loved. But I am also trying to figure that out compared to everyone and everything else. I can’t help but compare my life especially sex life with everything that is going on around me. I still don’t know if in my experiences it is my fault that I feel so shitty about myself after poor experiences. Maybe it is society’s fault. Or maybe the fault of the men and the women. But if it is the fault of the men, I think it is the fault of societal pressures, norms, and portrayal of sexuality that is directed at women. The mistreatment of gender on both sides of the coin is infuriating.