So, blogging this means drinks are *definitely* off, right?
A couple of years ago, when I was writing about some good naked times at the local swing club for a journalism class, my professor suggested that perhaps I wanted to consider writing under a pseudonym. I did consider it, but very briefly. I didn’t think I would get the same rush from seeing my byline if it wasn’t really my name. So I put my name on the thing and never looked back.
And by “never looked back” I mean that sometimes a boy will ask me out for a drink and then he’ll take out his phone and Google me right in front of my face and I will try to stop him and then this will happen:
Me: It’s going to scare you.
Boy: I like a woman who scares me.
Me: No you don’t. You think you do but you don’t.
Boy: What’s this…? …Is this a list of people you’ve slept with?
Me: Um, no. That was a joke. Can you please…
Boy: …queefs? Balls?
Me: Oh, god. Please stop.
Boy: …you want to be bent over a kitchen table? Did you write this?!
Then, I kid you not, he actually backed away from me, slowly, with his hands up in the universal symbol for “I surrender” or “I don’t have a gun” or “actually, never mind about that drink.”
