When Sexting Goes Bad

If you follow me on The Twitter, you might see me dropping a "sexting" joke every now and then, and you might be surprised (or not at all surprised) that it's usually coming from truth, not make believe smartassery. The truth is, I enjoy sexting. And a hipster can come over and fellate my USB stick, because I've been a sexter before it was called "sexting". I began this hobby over a decade ago, when I first started dabbling in online dating and it was then called "cybersex". After the initial flirting went well, good old MSN handles were exchanged and often things turned into some steamy internet chats.

AND I LOVE IT.

I simply enjoy expressing my sexuality through words. I realize that many people don't get anything out of it, and some find it repugnant, but I think it's fabulously good, clean fun.

There's always been the on-going debate about what constitutes "cheating" when you have a spouse and what doesn't. Meh. Obviously, I'm on the "doesn't" side (there's bigger fish to fry in this life as far as I'm concerned), but I realize that my view isn't gospel, so whatever. Chacun à son goût. I will say that that whole scandal with Anthony Weiner was laughable to me . . . and not just because of his unfortunate last name.

I just hope that if I ever run for public office that all my sexting photos DO come out because for every one that I've sent, I've taken at least 10 to get just the right angle, so I know they all have my boobs looking smokin' hot, so bring it on! "Vote for me. You've seen my DD's. Yee-haw!" I mean, isn't that why people bother listening to Jenny McCarthy? Ahem.

Anyways, this means that over the last 10 YEARS or so, I have had (needless to say), many online/virtual friends. M-A-N-Y. Some lasted for a few weeks or even months, and some were one time anomalies, kind of like in real life relationships, really. Things in my personal life would change or get hectic and I wouldn't sext anyone for months, but everyone had been cool with boundaries and space and above all . . . HINTS of nonavailability . . .

UNTIL LAST WEEK.

It started out like any other sexting exchange and it was great! And then he texted again the next day. And again. And again. And again at fucking ridiculous times in the middle of the night, which I had told him once before wasn't cool with me. Here's two vital tips for all you guys out there:

1. If a woman doesn't respond to 3 texts in a row, just stop. 3 is good number. She either isn't interested or she's dead. Either way, you ain't going to get to see her posing her supple breasts for you, so just drop it.
2. When a woman gives you one simple rule, don't fucking break it. Period. 

In the nicest way I possibly could, I told him he was coming on a bit strong and I just can't be available for sexy times as much as he would like me to me. I mean, com'on! I know I have an overly active sex drive, but between work and family and my seemingly constant illnesses, my window for opportunities are slim, to say the least. (And this would mark the SECOND time I had had to tell him this as well, apparently not stopping his daily texting frequency whatsoever.)

That is about the time when he went off on a tangent that would rival both my 3 year olds put together, and mentioned to me that I had slipped into "cunt mode" and that I was nothing but a "fat, unhappy housewife".

A. It's MRS. CUNT DRAGON to you, douche muppet. Buy the fucking mug.

B. I replied with, "Actually, I'm a fat, moderately happy professional wife, to be clear."

And then I blocked him from my life, because HELLO, CRAZY. I could very well have shot back with personal attacks about him (which would have been eeeasy), but I wasn't going to lower myself to that or waste my time with a Stage Five Clinger. I guess I should feel lucky that it's taken this long for someone THAT thick to come into my virtual life and get all psycho up in my beh'ness. 10 YEARS. This is my first cray-cray in ten fucking years. If by some off chance he is reading this, I think you need to chick-it-y check yourself before you wreck yourself!

Also, being my very first peer to verbally abuse me by stooping so low as to making fun of my weight SINCE I HAVE BEEN IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, I feel like he really deserved his own award, don't you think? Something like this . . .

And I made another one, because they were actually quite therapeutic

and I couldn't choose between the two.

I though the "housewifey" rubber glove giving the ASSHOLE sign was rather poetic.

I have no idea why this guy is still single . . .

Anyways, all the best!

Smiting you,

Lady E