Mr. Complacent

The rush of meeting someone new and experiencing those tingling feelings led me to become slightly addicted to Tinder. The swiping, the flirting, the validation—it’s a pretty amazing rush. It should be no surprise that it didn’t take me too long to find someone else after the success of Tinder Man. Mr. Complacent (MC) was not my type at all; if I had known more, I probably wouldn’t have slept with him. But hey, they can’t all be winners, right? MC wasn’t the worst, but I feel I learned a valuable lesson from it (spoilers!)

MC was blunt; he wanted sex, and wanted it at his convenience. At the time, I had family in town (unexpected I might add), and I had to make excuses to get away. Being a Friday (and my birthday week), my boss let me leave a bit early on Friday. MC and I had been texting for a few days; nothing serious, just him trying to get into my pants. I told him I could leave work a little early and swing by before he had plans that evening. Mr. Complacent was the WORST at responding to texts; he told me to text when I was close by. I did; he didn’t respond. I sat outside what I thought was his place for about 10 minutes before he called me. MC gave me instructions to pull around back of this fourplex, the rocky road killed my poor baby car’s undercarriage a tad. He was standing outside when I pulled up. While still on the phone with him, I told him it would take me a minute to get my stuff together (purse hidden, just keys in hand because hey…Catherine learned her lesson.) From first glances, Mr. Complacent was super disheveled; the man needed to either use his stubble growing pictures, or say he had facial hair. He was incredibly thin (not athletic at all), light skinned, dark hair, and dark colored eyes. When I got out of the car, I guess he wasn’t expecting me to be…me? I don’t hide on my pictures that I’m fluffy; I own that shit. He literally did a double take at me. I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. MC walked into his place and came back out, noticing I hadn’t really moved. He motioned me to come up, pointing to the stairs. I was horny and I was already there, might as well go through the motions for the day, and be away from unwanted family.

MC’s place was cluttered; there was an empty dog kennel, papers everywhere…the makings of a hoarder, I tell you! Before sitting down, he stood next to me and noticed he was shorter than me. He had to stand on his tippy toes to be taller than me. Granted, I was in some taller shoes, but I was overall taller than him (mental note was made to add my height into my profile because being taller than men is weird to me on so many levels.) I giggled awkwardly before sliding out of my shoes that make me taller ( I was wearing classy hello kitty socks that day. I am secretly 16 mentally); I just brushed off the height by saying, most men are shorter than me. MC replied to this, At least I’ll be on top in bed. Well ok then!

We awkwardly talked on his couch; I learned he was some sort of broker, and worked later hours. He suggested we go to his bedroom; of course I agreed. While MC led me there, I noticed his interesting artwork; not weird interesting, but genuinely cool. Cool enough that I’d hang them up in my place. But I digress. As mentioned earlier, I was horny and just wanted to get this show on the road. Mr. Complacent took his shirt off, so I did the same before my hands decided to undo his pants and then almost in a somewhat graceful and fluid motion I was on my knees. I really don’t know how I didn’t hurt myself since he had wooden floors, but hey, sometimes I surprise myself. His penis was decently sized; from his moans, he was incredibly surprised at my oral skills. After a few minutes (or long enough that my knees hurt), I stopped, much to his disappointment. He finished taking his pants off before it clicked that I needed to play catch up. I tossed my bra, and the remainder of my clothes (minus my hello kitty socks) and then I noticed that he had white sheets. Besides hotels, no one needs white sheets. No. One.

He told me to lay down, I obliged his request. I thought he was going to go down on me; how wrong I was. MC played with Catherine, commenting on how wet I was, but only with his fingers, and not in a good way. He was actually looking off in the distance. Me being me, I just looked at him and made random moans while slightly shaking my head. After a few of my eye rolls, I tried to just relax. I was enjoying it well enough, with my eyes closed so I wasn’t looking at him. I should have paid more attention to what he was doing because all of a sudden he was inside of me, which was great. He didn’t take that long until he decided to have a conversation:
MC: Where can I cum?
DV: *not really thinking or caring* I don’t care, wherever. 
MC: *slowing down a bit* So I can cum in you?
DV: *clearly thinking he had put a condom on* Sure, I don’t care.
MC: Hmmm…But why?
DV: *giving him a look* Does it matter..? 
MC: I don’t want to get you pregnant.

So, this is where I lose it internally; do people still think that the pull out method works? Because, it doesn’t. Thank god I have amazing birth control. So, now that it dawned on me that he wasn’t wearing a condom, I told him to just finish wherever he wanted. He decided to finish on my stomach. When he was done, he told me not to move so he could get something to clean the cum off. He disappeared into I guess his bathroom and brought me a damp towel (from his earlier shower I was hoping), threw it to me and I tried my best to wipe myself off.

I put my clothes on fairly quickly and got out of there without too much small talk. I didn’t text him at all; I figured after his double take that I was an in the moment fuck. A few months later, as I was driving into work, Mr. Complacent called me. I didn’t have his number saved or anything, so it caught me off guard. I didn’t want to see him again; long story short, he gave me my favorite std. Thanks, MC, thanks.

Lesson learned: Take condoms and see them being put on.

The Daring Vagina

That First Tinder Moment Together…

My first Tindering experience didn’t take long at all to happen. I downloaded the app really late one Monday night, played around on it Tuesday, and had sex Wednesday.

Tinder Man was probably the best first experience for me with Tinder; he didn’t flake out, he looked like his pics, wasn’t pushy, and wasn’t clingy. He was a couple years older than me, light skinned, and a tad taller than me. We talked a lot on the app (me sending the first message) before moving to texts. When he asked me what I was doing on Tinder, I responded that I was looking for a fwb. He was also doing the same. Score one for me! At least neither of us had high expectations for anything more to come of this; just some friendship with a side of sex. Tinder Man was very polite; I had family in town (thanks birthday ruiners) and couldn’t just run away like I normally could. I actually needed excuses to do things. He didn’t push to come over and have sex, and was ok with waiting until they left.

While texting, Tinder Man asked for more revealing pictures; he tried to be all hush hush and sly about it. If you want to see my boobs, just ask. This isn’t the 1800s; be blunt with me. I have some stock photos of my boobs for a reason (no face included.) Tinder Man had decent texting grammar, which is pretty astonishing; he also helped carry on the conversation. He wasn’t creepy, and he made me as horny as I probably made him (I can describe how I like to give head pretty well.)

Well, it was later that night and I was about to go to the gym when he begged me to come over when I was done. I thought about it; I could just leave the gym early. I clarified that I would be A. sweaty and B. hadn’t shaved in awhile. Tinder Man was more than on-board with that. I left my friend at the gym a bit early and drove over to his apartment. He didn’t live in the worst complex, but it definitely wasn’t somewhere I could live. He was on the third floor; I was nervous and was winded from running 3 miles already, so I probably sounded like an asthma patient when he opened the door.

Tinder Man didn’t have a picture of his face clearly visible; he always had sunglasses on. This…was not a deal breaker more like an “…oh…” moment. Tinder Man had bug eyes; overly large and thick eyelashes. I was a little taken aback by it; maybe it’s a reason he didn’t show a pic of his eyes. I went inside his place. He had just moved there recently; so many things were still in boxes. It didn’t take long for Tinder Man to pin me against the wall as he made out with me. While peeling off my sweat covered clothes, he had difficulty getting my sports bra off. I will give him credit for being a phenomenal kisser; my toes definitely curled.

We made our way to his bedroom. Tinder Man had a grown-up bed with grown-up sheets. If this is how I needed to find men and not boys transitioning into adulthood, I was sold on Tinder. After going down on him for maybe two minutes, he told me to lay on my back. I wasn’t expecting him to go down on me; I literally was just at the gym. He spent a good amount of time with Catherine; I actually felt like I would cum. Then came the actual sex; Tinder Man knew what was up. He had a container of condoms that he just took one off the top, quickly and easily put it on and was inside me like nothing. His penis was around 6 inches and average girth. It did the job.

After being in missionary for too long for me, I asked if we could switch up positions. He asked me to what position. I am not decisive at all; I just laid there, thinking of how to say doggy with my sweaty face buried in your pillows. I eventually suggested doggy, and I’m glad I did. He knew what he was doing back there. Tinder Man grabbed onto my hips and thrusted like there was no tomorrow. I thought he was going to break me. I mean, he made me bleed, but I thought he really was going to bruise me.

When he finished, he brought me a towel to clean up. I was put off that he didn’t offer me a shower first, but whatever, I was about to go take my normal post workout shower. Tinder Man kissed me goodnight as I said we should do that again.

While he agreed that we should do it again, he didn’t respond to my text of wanting to possibly meet up. Oh well. As I I’ve learned, there are so many men on Tinder that are ready to meet up, as long as it’s the date and time they have free.


Miss Orgasm is taking a backseat to Catherine's happiness

Lesson learned: Tinder isn’t so bad. I don’t recommend it to everyone, but at least my first experience wasn’t the worst.


The Daring Vagina

Love Me, Tinder

Before I write about my tinder romances (or lack thereof), I want to take a moment to describe tinder from my viewpoint, some lessons, and what tinder exactly is. Is Tinder the greatest thing ever? No. That’s a tie between vibrators and batteries, you assuming person. However, Tinder is comical and has made Catherine happy a lot of times.

Tinder is full of creepers, trolls, anti-feminist men, and then a handful of decent guys. Between these decent guys, there are some that want nothing more than to get between your legs (or they just want your mouth on their cock), or they want a full fledged relationship (these following through with the relationship idea are rare and should be treated like a unicorn.) You may find some winners out of a galaxy of losers; it sucks, but the journey is pretty funny. I started taking screenshots because I couldn’t believe what some men would say or use as a pick-up line. To meet these glorious individuals, you have to agree to let Tinder access Facebook; I was totally hesitant on this front, won’t even lie. I finally was like,…it can’t do anything I can’t undo, and now I am correcting men that call me their Tinderella. Bitch, that’s not my name, and unless you’re buying me shoes, don’t get near my feet. On Tinder, you “match” with people when you both “swipe right.” Tinder pulls up people based on your age, gender and location preference; you then say if you like them or not. If you like, you can swipe your finger right; if you’re like, oh hell no, you can swipe left. Simple, right? So simple. Are there hiccups? Of course, but everything has them.

Creating the Perfect Profile
When you install Tinder, it just uses the profile from Facebook. If your profile says how much you love your mama and your six kids, you need to change that before your Tinder game is ruined for awhile. I like to think I have a pretty awesome description, and I shall share it with you (with some obvious blanks on my specifics): From somewhere, currently live in another place. I’m a researcher that loves running, watching most sports, going to concerts, and being a nerd. I’m super ridiculous, love road trips and traveling in general, blogger, sarcastic with a bit of dry humor, super tall (5’9), consumer of beer and cake, and pretty damn awesome. INTJ; college grad and famous on Google maps. Not really looking for a relationship. Who doesn’t want a fun adventure? Communists, that’s who!

I get complimented on this beautiful piece of literary genius. You can leave it blank, people will still be interested. I mean, Tinder is the most shallow thing ever. I “swipe right” on a guy that appears to be fun when in reality those pics are 5+ years old and now he’s a hermit that doesn’t own a razor. It’s a risk you have a to take. I outline in mine that I don’t want a relationship; some people (mostly men), are really blunt in what they want from Tinder. There’s nothing wrong with that, I encourage that; don’t go wasting time, yo!
Another component about your profile is that Tinder uses your likes from Facebook to show your potential match what you “have in common.” Just don’t pull a Daring Vagina and say something against things you matched on (that’s a fun story for later.) Tinder also snags your recent profile pictures from Facebook and uses them. You have the option of changing your pic, but only to other photos from Facebook. So, you can create a new profile for your sexy abs, or just use normal photos of yourself. Up to you. Just don’t have your wedding photos…that’s awkward.

Sometimes, when you’re on a swiping spree, you accidentally swipe left on your soul mate. These things do happen and it’s ok. Your Tinderfella will be there amongst those swipes to the right. The accidental swipes tend to happen once you learn about clicking on the picture of a potential match to pull up their other photos and bio. Once you’ve pulled up their profile, you can swipe to the left to view all their photos. If shit happens, you aren’t in their profile or you leave it, and then…you swipe left. This makes cupid sad. Don’t make cupid sad. On the flip side, I have swiped right on people that are nowhere near my taste in men. This happens while drunk…or sober. I just don’t remember the guy’s face and his profile is blank, so obviously Catherine had other plans for the guy. When you accidentally match with someone you don’t want, there is the ability to unmatch. Thank god for that. Drunk swiping is a bad thing, especially when you match with someone and say things you shouldn’t…I’m really classy.

Once you’ve swiped and matched with the Tinderest of men, you are able to start a conversation with them, keep looking at their pictures so you can masturbate to them (or until they unmatch with you…you perv), and view their moments (we’ll get to that later on.) What should you expect from someone on Tinder? Terrible pick-up lines, terrible pick-up lines everywhere.


Yes, I'd like to bang out.


Direct and to the point...some points.


St least he got my humor


Over flattering is scary.

Not all men are terrible, some are clueless. My favorites are when I lead with a “Hey, how are doing today?” And I get a “Hey.” What the actual fuck…conversation, can you carry it, mother fucker? Nope…they cannot. Some people want to talk for forever. Some people say the rudest things. Some just want to text you right after matching. I’ve had it all, and honestly, I don’t expect much from Tinder; one night stands for the most part. I’ve had some Tinder fails through communication; swipe to text has made me say Hsu over hey, and then some other random words. But honestly, I’ve never been a complete moron; I complete sentences, answer questions, and use proper grammar, and most others do not. Except when I drink. Ugh. Then I say things like, I can fit four of my fingers in my mouth, because I’m classy.

As I mentioned before, there are “moments” you can share with the people you match with. These pictures can be from anywhere; snapchat, camera, or you can take one through the application itself. And doll it up with artwork or wording. Up to you. Your matches can like or not your moment. Much like the initial swipe, you don’t see who hasn’t liked it but who has liked your moment. It helps me be like, ugh…that guy grew out a four foot long beard and expects me to still be matched to him? Peace out. I’ve put things like a picture of a beer that asks if anyone wants to grab a drink (when I’m traveling) and its kinda worked.

Lessons from Tinder: people can and will unmatch you right before you meet. It’s a dick move and they do it. I’ve done it when the conversation went to crazy town. It’s full of trolls, so even if you’re drop dead gorgeous, or me, you’ll get your fair share of Tinder cat calls. Mostly the same, and stupid, but still there. People don’t always look like their pictures; a lot of the time, actually. People use their best Facebook photos, and then in person they’ve aged 15 years, and badly. Dick pics, so many dick pics. Age isn’t always right; it goes off of your Facebook, so it fucks with you. You can do the spectrum to see everyone, even the 14 year olds that have their Facebook set to 20. As if I couldn’t tell…ok sometimes it takes me a minute to tell, but that fucker swiped right on me and I look my age. My fucking bad. At least I didn’t even talk to him. A lot of men have the same name. It’s really weird when you have seven Matthews in a row and they look NOTHING alike. As always, be safe. More men on Tinder have tried to go without condoms on me than craigslist men. Tinder is why I now carry a tin of condoms with me. And in case I’m raped, cause I’ll ask him to at least wrap it before he taps it.

My first Tinder man was actually pretty good comparatively. But I guess you’ll have to read about him next time.


The Daring Vagina

A Specific Type

Before I started this blog I made a list; I wanted to have certain sexual experiences so when I die from a rhinoceros horn puncture wound, I will be able to say that I lived it up. And no, it won’t be a rhinoceros horn to the vagina. More like to my back from running too slow. This is the story of The Asian.

I was on a quest; I posted for a particular type of guy. I wanted either an Asian or a Middle Eastern man. To me, an Asian man is incredibly sexy; 90% of the time they’re smart, and know how to use their fingers since they played the violin (I’m stereotyping, I know.) I received a few hits (like maybe seven), but only one was a keeper. The Asian was in his mid 30s, a chef at a local restaurant chain, about average build, and my height or so. He was overly attractive (half Korean and half white), witty, and was a self proclaimed insatiable man sexually. We texted all day one Saturday and then decided on meeting up around 9pm for him to eat dinner, and me to drink tea.

I am overly conscious about my weight, so when someone stares at anything else about me, it throws me off. Boob stares are also normal, but The Asian was fixated on my eyes. I have these blue eyes that are more pale than bright. He commented on them enough times that I was permanently blushing from head to toe. We talked about random things; I found out he was half Korean, had twin daughters, and loved to cook. Coincidence of the day went to the fact that I had Korean food for lunch; I do love Asians. He asked if I wanted to get out of there; of course I was ready! Ever since I was in high school I’ve always wanted to date and also sleep with Asian men. I followed him to the place he shared with his roommates, whom I also met and chatted with.
The Asian was a smoker; chain smoking two packs a day type of smoker. He left me alone in his room a few times to smoke before we actually had sex. I was wearing my yoga pants and a soft t-shirt that night. His room reminded me of a high schooler’s room; it had two posters, full sized bed, no furniture for clothes, and a tv stand that doubled as coffee table. The Asian asked me what music I was into so we could listen to it on Pandora; he’d apparently never heard of grouplove, so I guess I educated him on something that night. We made out after a bit of awkward moments; he felt the need to tell me he really liked white girls with curves. I don’t know how to respond to that; do you say, thanks for liking the category my body falls into, or do you just smile and try to not make a big deal out of the fact that a guy just said he has a sexual type as well? I went with the latter.

He turned the lights off once we started removing clothing, and that’s when the magic happened for me. The Asian was handsy, but massage type handsy. He cradled my face, my hips, my neck, my knees…he licked me everywhere, and placed light kisses that made me actually moan, and not fake moan. When he went down on me, the continual praise of my “super wet pussy” was on overdrive. His penis was average in length but fairly thick; score one for me! The Asian was overly loud when I went down on him; he was definitely a great communicator and told me what he liked and didn’t like. After he came, and gave me rude sad puppy dog eyes since I didn’t, he went for a smoke. But before he left, he left me with the task of finding a movie to watch. I was perusing his movie titles and each movie’s synopsis before I was sold on Anchorman 2.

We snuggled while watching the movie; I would distract him by sporadically sucking on a finger or two of his. It didn’t take too long before he was hard and ready for some more fooling around. While we were fucking in missionary he told me to open my eyes; he wanted to see my eyes while he fucked me. It was the most uncomfortable thing I felt I had done in a long time. I was thankful the room was dark with only the tv light lighting up the room.

After he came, he went to smoke again. I paused the movie and started looking at my phone when a voice from the window freaked me out. The Asian was outside the window smoking. He told me to play the movie and he could watch from outside. I did as he asked, but we continued to talk through the screened window. I was fascinated by him. The Asian was a multi round guy, loved foreplay, and definitely lasted more than five minutes; exactly my type of guy. When the movie was over I looked at my watch to realize it was late. As in, 3am. I told him I needed to leave; he offered up half of the bed and his cock if I stayed the night. I obviously couldn’t. He left me with a note worthy kiss; it was passionate and left me weak in the knees.

We texted a few times, but he was incredibly busy, and wasn’t available when I was and vice versa. It didn’t help that neither of us had the ideal hosting situation either. I sadly have not had another Asian since The Asian. I will take tips on cities to visit to conquer my yellow fever.

Lesson Learned: I have a fever and the only cure is more Asian (food or men. I really love Chinese buffets.)

The Daring Vagina