Friday 9 November 2012

Miss Stiffy: I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours

Introducing our latest writer: Miss Stiffy, a twenty something lovefool looking for love in all the wrong places, fumbling in her newly found singledom like a furious horny mole.



Modern relationships are a funny thing, hey? The boundaries change from day to day and if you're a bit like me, you're likely to run into trouble at some point. Or crash face first into a wall, completely destroying any shred of dignity you thought you once had.


I suppose after four years in a relationship that I was misguided in thinking that I knew what to expect or that somehow, with age and experience, that I was in the know.

Well, that relationship recently came to what mostly resembles an end. It was all very grown up and matter of fact. You're going to be there for a long time and I'm going to be here so let's just say 'see you later' and hope that one day we do, in fact, actually see each other. In the meantime, lets concentrate on our careers and be all mature and cool and adult about it. Fine, fine. All good. And I genuinely thought it was.

Or at least I did until my super hot guy friend (on whom I secretly had a crush) from the coffee shop got in contact after a few months of my being in the single world. 

It all started with an innocent picture of a chocolate pumpkin on my lap but before I knew it (what's that behind the pumpkin?) it was rapidly resembling something more like soft porn. I guess that sometimes happens when you've got a whole bunch of pent up frustration you didn't realise you had and needed to vent.

And so our deal was tit for tat. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Oh the wonders and immediacy of modern technology! From chocolate pumpkin to papping my own breasts in the mirror. I felt completely comfortable in forging ahead, pausing only momentarily to think 'is this really slutty?' and brushing it off. We were equals. We had each denied wanting it for such a long time and were now comparing notes. Both plunging into the pool of pure filth hand in hand. These are contemporary times and, what's more, I bloody felt like it. Plus, we're both adults, you know? You know? (Please tell me you know?)

It was scintillating. It was delicious and it made me feel really damn good. Your totally cool chica. That's me. Showing my vag to the coffee boy in exchange for his lovely penis.

Well, fast forward a full month and there has yet to be another word from coffee boy's mouth and obviously I'm not. fecking. impressed. However, what I'm mostly not impressed with is not that fact that he is ignoring me (even though it's the mark of a totally vile beast) but a few words a girly friend of mine dared to utter when I regaled her with my sorry sordid story.

 'Well, what did you expect? Of course he was going to ignore you after.' 

'Erm. I'm sorry. Come again? Did you actually just say and imply what I think you just said and implied?!'

I suppose I'm the fool. Of course! What did I expect? Naturally if you show someone your vagina in exchange for their cock then you're a slut and that gives any guy the go-ahead pass to completely deny your existence the following day. Oh and it's all your own stupid fault. It's not as if we're both supposed to be adults just having a little girl on guy fun. It's not because as women we have become sexually liberated and it's certainly not because we're equals, he and I. 

Oh no, because girls shouldn't be like that, should they?  

When he asked me what was behind the chocolate pumpkin, I should have said 

'My 100 denier Marks and Spencers tights thanks'

and saved the trouble.

Silly me. Silly boy. Silly fucking vagina.

P.S I love my vagina, really. 

No comments:

Post a Comment