i am in control

i masturbated furiously before going into my shift today. i cum exclusively to women’s bodies, but i feel a magnetism towards men that is undeniable. even though most of them find me unpalatable. 

i am waiting for the bus in my cutest outfit, a short white slip with some lace on the hem and a bow tie enclosure right above my boobs. my favorite feature of the dress is that the strap frequently falls down my shoulder, and i enjoy both the light sensation of it grazing down my skin as well as the idea that a greater force in the world is undressing me, or something. both straps fall and i burst with delight. it’s practically orgasmic. a barometric reading that it will be a great day. it also makes me feel really skinny.

most of the men driving by give me at least a moment’s overview while they pass. this glance is something i assume to be instant cataloging into what porn category i fit into: petite, busty, brunette, step-sis. actually, i’m not quite a step-sis anymore (i’m 26) but i do have my pigtails on today and i guess there is no age limit on step-sisters. i shouldn’t be so rigid. the men i’m dating are always saying this. they’re like “you're so rigid and militant, please relax”.  i love when they tell me this because it makes me feel like meg ryan in when harry met sally. i think we are curating an enemies-to-lovers dynamic, but it always turns out they were being serious.

unfortunately, there are some men who pass by and don’t look over, even for a second. i think its very un-animal of them not to at least get a slight measure of the biological availability in their immediate surroundings. i certainly have enough eggs to be viable in a way that should be felt as a force amongst men. an ultrasonic call to their seed.  but they are driving and i guess that is a distinctly un-animal mindset to be in, so i try to give them grace.

i get really upset thinking about how humans don’t get to be animals anymore. we can only try on being animals in a forcibly spontaneous or engineered risk way, like camping. and even then i usually never feel a true sense of danger or freedom because i love dropping money at REI on stuff like a well-designed sleeping pad. this lack of being in touch with your animal is why i stay away from men who studied sociology in college. way too in their head. they tend to not buy my drink in the name of Feminism and when i ask them what they like in sex they lock up and say “the normal stuff” and when i ask them what kind of porn they watch they always say “amateur” but i never think they are telling the truth.  if they could access their true animal they would probably not engage with any of my probing questions about their sexual preferences and just pin me down, which is what i would prefer. they would also understand that getting me nice and drunk would make me super docile and probably buy me a lot of them instead of getting all choked up over spending twelve dollars.

i have this theory that microplastics and ai are going to finally push us into a distinctly un-animal species and we will finally feel normal. we have been straddling the line for far too long. at this point i realize i am gripping the fuck out of my phone

so i get on the bus and stare at the list of men's names in my most recent messages. matt, ryan, max, dave, i sent around 8 guys the same message this morning. i was pretty out of it when i sent them so i look back and immediately have to close the app. i said “tell me somethinggggg” i think i was trying to be cute but i sent it at 6 am, which is maybe a weird time to flirt over text. dave had replied “what?” and ryan replied “?” max, who i like the most and has the most sincere name, hearted the message. i think he gets me. it’s really cool to be seen.

i go into work and am elated to see greg, who i call cuck boss in my head. he has more authority than me and is always complaining about the actual boss, who hides out in the basement. we all got drinks after work last week. he got drunk and told me about his Sad Childhood. he didn’t even really have to tell me about it because he’s the type to just sort of wear it.  at the end of the night he told me i had sexy lips and then went home with my coworker who is closer in age to him named tina. i found out they had great sex. “he ate my ass even more than my pussy” tina said, while clocking in the next morning “i didn’t even shower before, that’s a man”. i was very happy for them but wished it was me. he’s staring at me a lot during my shift, so i make sure to be more feminine than usual as roll silverware and walk up to tables. i am very aware of my breasts while i do my tasks. at one point i spill an industrial size ranch on the ground. i think really hard about how to bend down sexily to clean up. i poke my hips out and move, potentially too slow,  to the ground in a squat position. now that i am down here i realize it is quite a lot of sauce. there are at least three dead insects under the prep area that i can spot from my new vantage point, i force my face into ease despite the uncomfortable reality of my situation. i look up after my lethal performance and he is distracted by a fellow server who needs help food running. 

 i close out for the night and when i take my phone out of my locker i am elated to see a missed call from max. my text worked. he must see my charm. i call him back and am sent to voicemail. my phone dings

max: did u mean to call?

me: yes!!!! i saw u called. hi, what are u doing tonight, u big freak?

max is typing for a long time and i am filled with excitement. it is so cute that he is working on figuring out what to say to me. he must be nervous and wants to get it just right. my phone dings

max:  didnt mean to call u. im with my boys but maybe l8r 

i read the text 17 times and scan for any indication that he was regretful and actually does want to hang out. he might have an anxious attachment style. i heard people with that like you so much they cant show it. that’s probably what this is. i call tina over to confirm.

tina says that i should work on my self-esteem and goes back to flirting with greg. she always has the best advice. she told me “to be where my shoes are” amidst a panic attack in june. upon reflection i think she meant get out of your head but i was picturing myself as carrie bradshaw and it still worked. 

i am home now and i am staring at my phone, which looks pretty distorted through the tears streaming down my face. i am honestly really glad because i heard salt water is really good for your skin and i'm pleased at the thought ill look good tomorrow on account of my natural facial. i'm going to really put myself out there.