You CAN Get In That Ass!
It’s always good to start your day with a deep belly laugh that wakes up sleeping dogs and makes them throw you reproachful glares.
Today this happened for me upon reading Rain Degrey’s blog, when she dipped into the “festering swamp of crazy” that is her inbox and decided to respond to the dudebro who wrote her to ask: “Can I get in that ass?”
RainDeGrey:
Why certainly!
I am incredibly wealthy, I have no job, nothing but free time and am the sluttiest person in the entire world!
When strangers from Illinois contact me asking to get in that ass, I buy a plane ticket and fly out on the spot! No condoms, no questions, I have a lovely case of herpes that I would like to share with you.
I am flying into your state tomorrow. I believe marriage is in our future. Particularly after I give you this herpes!
See you tomorrow my soul mate & life partner! How many kids are we planning on?
Xoxoxo
Since this is Rain, that’s just the foreplay. While she was getting in touch with her inner bunny-boiler, I was calling in the ROFL-copter. Bank account numbers, kidneys, x-rays, pink slips, oh my!
Similar Sex Blogging:
Shorter URL for sharing: https://www.erosblog.com/?p=15100
Dudebro probably doesn’t get out much…
That’s what’s so perplexing about this. There are asses he could probably get in, but that of a woman on the internet in a distant state with a complex, fulfilling, and somewhat public sexual life? What is he even playing at? He should get a job, work out, go out, try that line on actual women who could say yes without needing airplane tickets. Then, you know, he might learn from his mistakes and get a less douchey line.
But no, let’s go troll internet women. It’s safer and just as much fun! {glyph of me shaking my head}
The problem is, that it’s a vicious cycle that he doesn’t possess the skills to break. His wheel is spinning in a muddy rut. Because he doesn’t get out, he’s unsophisticated, and real women are a mystery to him. Because women are a mystery, he doesn’t get out much. The more time he spends with his fingers on the keyboard trolling, the less time he has to actually get to meet (and get to know), the opposite sex.
The South Park TV cartoon series had a similar character in their “World of Warcraft” spoof episode. His apartment room is strewn with dirty laundry, candy bar wrappers, pizza delivery and cookie boxes and empty beer cans. He has a model of the Millennium Falcon on top of his Hi-def big-screen TV, and his zombie-killing hunting knife can be seen readily accessible by his keyboard. His morbidly-obese belly is perpetually peppered with potato chips crumbs. This is what this guy looks like:
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As a loyal son of the prairies, I apologize for the likes of dudebro. We Illinoisans expect such behavior from Hoosiers.
Petronius, I’m not touching that! (Presumably I got some Hoosiers reading here too.)
Dr. Whiplash, I expect you’ve got the truth of the matter, as depressing as it might be. To me that sounds like a business opportunity for a special sort of sex worker, perhaps an older-than-him woman with dominatrix skills. I imagine a boy like that would have to pay a substantial sum (here’s the rub in my scheme, he probably doesn’t have it) in advance for a number of sessions (at least a dozen, perhaps twice a week or so) which would combine basic life coaching (touching on topics of employment, physical fitness, and personal cleanliness/grooming), training in speech and deportment (negative feedback with a riding crop might speed up this part of the process), a short course in seduction (nothing MRA-ish, just the basics of non-skeevy approach and conversation), and finally, if the student shows sufficient advancement, a hands-on sex-ed component to further bolster self-confidence and comprehension.
Sadly, our society does not encourage entrepreneurship of this sort, and the young “men” most desperately in need of it probably don’t apprehend that fact even if they did have the coin to procure it.