I received an email via this blog:
Want sex/need STD test
I’ve been reading your blog for the past hour or so. I saw your OkCupid profile on my handle (REDACTED), in which I’m a 29 year old bisexual woman who lives in Los Angeles. I am actually a 22 year old straight woman who lives in Long Beach. But I work in (REDACTED neighborhood). I’m also 5’4, not 5’10. We should have sex.
You haven’t seen my views on OkCupid because I turned on anonymous browsing. I use that profile to look at exes and people like (REDACTED), who I had awesome sex with for two months until he broke things off because he found out that I was fucking (REDACTED minor celebrity).
Oh, it’ll have to be protected sex unless you want to wait until my October 2 STD test.
Attached were pics of a very cute young woman. Face and full body and one that said “this is what I look like sucking your dick,” with just the top of her face and her feet crossed all cute. Care was taken to show that they were not myspace angle.
Now, this kind of shit never happens. Part of you thinks it’s a gay guy trolling for cock pics. But, if I walk by a $20 bill on the street I don’t not pick it up because I think there’s a bomb under it. So I texted her. I stupidly invited her to a party. To her credit, she said she wasn’t available that night. Her way of saying “just tell me to come to your house, idiot.” I told her to come to my house. Have some chicken.
She is a very cute 22 year old woman who just likes to get fucked. I did not want to wait for her October 2d STD test, nor did I want to have protected sex. She didn’t want to do either of these things either of course. Rawdog for life, even if that life is cut short by Hep C.
She, all five foot four and a hundred pounds and twenty two years old and Asian heritage of her, is a size queen. I have an unimpressive penis. She was not satisfied. So it goes.
I took off for work. Let her stay at my place. None of my shit is worth stealing. That morning I got a text with an amused catalogue of all the weird stuff in my jerk drawer, including a lump of wet flour mush in a pint glass I had microwaved and tried to fuck while out of my mind on cocaine. I told her I would name it after her. She also stole my old neighbor Heather’s bra.
It’s four in the afternoon and only now is the smell of the garlic I chopped last night fading enough to catch a whiff of her cuntmusk on my hands. It inspired me to text her again. She’s coming over again. Two nights in a row. Why not, you know? You see 20 bucks in the street, you have to be made of stone to just walk by.