I “hate” men

Just to give you an update on my love life.

So far, my biggest challenge has been deciding whether or not to go out with James Hugecock or the guy who told me his ideal woman would have no gag reflex.

Clearly I need a reset.

A do-over.

Because this is not how I imagined I’d be treated while getting to know someone.

Has the whole entire world gone completely porn crazy?

I feel like I’m trapped in an XXX rated movie and I can’t get out.

There are things I understand.

When I go on hookup websites like Tinder I should expect to meet men looking for hookups.

But do they have to be so disrespectful about it?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but lately I get the feeling that the men I meet HATE women.

Their constant objectification turns me off.

I’m a hot blooded American woman.

I need to find a partner who knows how to be sexy AND respectful at the same time.

It’s not impossible.

There’s The Swede.

But he lives in Sweden.

And there’s Coke Can Dan.

But he’s off the market.

These are examples of good, decent men who know how to make a woman feel sexy AND respected at the same time.

It shouldn’t be so hard to find, should it?

So if you’re wondering where I’m at right now, I’m located at the corner of I HATE MEN STREET and FUCK INTERNET DATING ROAD.

Okay, I don’t hate ALL men.

I know a lot of decent men (who are not single or available).

But I’m giving up on trying to meet someone.

At least for a while until the amnesia sets in and the optimism takes over.

Coke jokes

I might have let it slip among my friends at the Bare Burn that I nicknamed my friend “Coke Can Dan.”

I might have said, “I call him Coke Can Dan” but his real name is John so you better not call him Dan.

And they were good about it.

They never called him Dan.

But there we were at the Bare Burn, and literally all my friends were making Coke jokes.

Honestly, it didn’t bother Coke Can Dan.

He’s used to be heralded at parties and the like by women, much like myself, who can’t seem to keep their mouth shut about getting STUFFED!

Sometimes I wonder what it must be like, to have an appendage so big it needs its own zip code.

When lubrication isn’t a suggestion but a NECESSITY.

I joked with Coke Can Dan and told him that my lady parts could comfortably accommodate something half the size of his parts.

And in a way, that’s true.

When it comes to sparkling beverages, I’m more of a Red Bull kind of gal than a Coke Can kind of gal.

Of course, I’m being converted.

You all may get a giggle out of this post and wonder, silently, if I’m walking all right or if I have to step gingerly.

The answer is I can walk just fine, but I’d probably benefit from sitting on an ice pack.

Sore

To be honest, I’m a little bit out of it right now.

It probably has something to do with a little bit of sleep deprivation, drinking, and frolicking with friends at the Bare Burn.

It could also have something to do with all the WORK that went into producing the event.

I didn’t get home from the Bare Burn until 10:30 pm Sunday night.

Lupin, if you haven’t been there, is on a steep hill and so I spent the ENTIRE weekend going up and down and up and down the hill.

By the end of the weekend, I was ALMOST used to it.

But today, there is this soreness that has settled into my legs and I realize that what I did all weekend long going up and down the hill is a lot like doing a million squats.

Hopefully my ass looks nice and perky from all the exercise.

In case you were wondering, I did get to spend some time relaxing at the pool and socializing with friends, it wasn’t ALL work.

I also managed to squeeze in some mattress dancing with my friend Coke Can Dan.

It was nice having him there because apart from the OBVIOUS reason, his presence reminded me to find time to chill, explore, and relax.

I’m not sure I would’ve relaxed as much without him there.

If you must know, more than my leg muscles are sore.

I should be walking like a bow legged cowboy.

And I sort of need to sit on a ice pack ALL DAY LONG to recover from the vigorous entertainment he provided.

Despite all these sore muscles however, rest assured that there is a BIG smile on my face.

Huge!

Coke Can Dan

Coke Can Dan is a real man.

A man with “unusual” attributes.

You see, Coke Can Dan has a cock the size of, ahem, a COKE CAN.

Hence the name.

My girlfriends whispered about Coke Can Dan in hushed circles at parties, each vouching for not just his length and girth, but also his skill and prowess in the bedroom.

Now.

I’m not one to be swayed by LARGE appendages.

I’m perfectly happy with the average ones.

But then, I met Coke Can Dan.

Oh, perhaps he isn’t THE Coke Can Dan, but he’s certainly A “Coke Can Dan Man”.

And let me tell you this.

That appendage is the least of his talents.

Apart from looking like he should star in porn films, “Coke Can Dan” is a lovely sort of fellow.

The kind you want to go camping with.

The kind who makes you feel special and beautiful.

He’s the kind of guy you’d call if you got a flat tire and needed help from a friendly face.

I’m not one to talk about male endowment in hushed whispers in corners of dark rooms.

You know me, I’m going to put it on this blog and tell the world.

I can’t stop looking at coke cans and smiling!