PussyGirl, for once did not know where to start.
She sat, staring at the screen of her PC, wondering how she was going to manage this.
In fairness, it wasn't really capacity that concerned her, it was how to be equitable. After all, each contact, virtual kiss or cyberstalk she received was worthy of a reply and acknowledgement.
Having studied the various profile types, Ms PussyGirl knew she needed a system of attribution and classification.
After some consideration, PG felt it best to go with the "less is more" logic; to explain - the shorter and sweeter the message, in combination with a pared down profile, would bring the potential beau in question one step nearer to the top of the long list.
Those waffling on endlessly and waxing lyrical about their own attributes would be placed further down the long list - possibly even banished forever. She would respond to all messages received minus the lewd, crewd and socially unacceptable.
At first, this idea seemed at odds with PG's open-mindedness and tendency to the bawdy now and again. " However, " she countered, " this is the first representation of the self, so if he starts with overt references of the Benny Hill variety, it cannot bode well."
And therein lay her filtering theory: respectful, polite, succinct and where possible with a sense of humour; these were the essential criteria of the successful suitors. If they made the grade they would make the long list. Once on the long list, PG intended to arrange a rendezvous and take it from there.
PussyGirl began sorting and it wasn't long before she had a shortlist from her long list:-
Stargazerguy to SpecialForcesMan through Somewhat Hairy Chested.
This was beginning to look more and more interesting.
And PussyGirl was thrilled!
Monday, 29 June 2009
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Filters and Fantasies
Barely twenty four hours had passed from posting her profile until the deluge began.
PussyGirl had received over sixty messages in that brief space of time. She was duly impressed. "I wonder, " she thought, "if this is going to be easier than I imagined. There seem to be a lot of eager men out there.....or maybe I am just irresitible and never realised." PussyGirl knew she needed some time to reflect; she was keen not to imbue herself with a false sense of validation. How could this be?
She began to unpick the reasons behind her easy won success.
"Now," she said " these guys are looking, so really it is no surprise that they should contact me." After some deliberation, and drawing on her broad life experience and years of academic training, she began to understand it was a simple case of supply and demand: there was a 60 - 40 ratio of men to women on the site. "Hmmm! The balance has tipped in my favour. Good. About time too!"
There was also the issue of fantasy - PG would soon discover that all was not what it seemed, but for now she only had a brief notion of the ends people would go to in order to make themselves seem more attractive.
PussyGirl had been honest to the last detail: age, sex, marital status, the lot. She had posted a recent photo and given a fair appraisal of her qualities, ensuring the list was short and not too flowery. "Why," she asked herself, "would anybody lie about themselves on a profile? In the end the truth will out." And how, dear friends, how.
Still, for now, she was basking in the deluge of offers and responses:
"Meet me PussyGirl!"
"I want you, oh statuesque beauty!"
"Come and fill my life with pussyness please!"
"Let me star alongside you, please pussycat lady."
And so the hits kept on coming. There was only one thing to do, well two actually - get filtering and start a diary.
This was looking like a beast that needed guiding, and PussyGirl was just the woman for the job.
PussyGirl had received over sixty messages in that brief space of time. She was duly impressed. "I wonder, " she thought, "if this is going to be easier than I imagined. There seem to be a lot of eager men out there.....or maybe I am just irresitible and never realised." PussyGirl knew she needed some time to reflect; she was keen not to imbue herself with a false sense of validation. How could this be?
She began to unpick the reasons behind her easy won success.
"Now," she said " these guys are looking, so really it is no surprise that they should contact me." After some deliberation, and drawing on her broad life experience and years of academic training, she began to understand it was a simple case of supply and demand: there was a 60 - 40 ratio of men to women on the site. "Hmmm! The balance has tipped in my favour. Good. About time too!"
There was also the issue of fantasy - PG would soon discover that all was not what it seemed, but for now she only had a brief notion of the ends people would go to in order to make themselves seem more attractive.
PussyGirl had been honest to the last detail: age, sex, marital status, the lot. She had posted a recent photo and given a fair appraisal of her qualities, ensuring the list was short and not too flowery. "Why," she asked herself, "would anybody lie about themselves on a profile? In the end the truth will out." And how, dear friends, how.
Still, for now, she was basking in the deluge of offers and responses:
"Meet me PussyGirl!"
"I want you, oh statuesque beauty!"
"Come and fill my life with pussyness please!"
"Let me star alongside you, please pussycat lady."
And so the hits kept on coming. There was only one thing to do, well two actually - get filtering and start a diary.
This was looking like a beast that needed guiding, and PussyGirl was just the woman for the job.
Friday, 26 June 2009
Profiling
PussyGirl had taken the first step; she was going to get herself out there and see what kind of mischief she could make. It was a New Year and she needed a new approach. Hedonism appealed greatly. After all, the basic ingredients of a successful existence were all in place - she had a good job, place of her own, good circle of friends, some longstanding, some not; a close and loving group of siblings to fall back on when times were harder than they should be. She missed the fun bit of having someone to date and all that it entailed. She was bored of working long hours and then coming home to just her pussies for company. She just, she decided, wanted some fun!
She was, after all, known for her minx-like behaviour, her love of the irreverent and generally upbeat demeanour. She had a reasonable amount to offer, or so she believed.
PussyGirl wondered what the competition would be like; perhaps slightly unladylike to say it, but nonetheless a consideration - the driving force of many a man, and woman's, motivation and not to be overlooked.
"I shall engage in this as an anthropological experiment," she thought to herself, "I will research the beast that is the Internet dater, perhaps engage is some philosophical reflection upon my own status as an outsider within or maybe even meet someone and get it on with them," she mused.
Starting up was easy and she dedicated surprisingly little time to the operational detail. She picked a site at random and registered. She noticed, that slightly unfairly, women did not pay for their membership on this site while the men did. Still, perhaps that was a bit of positive discrimination she could overlook just this once.
The profile? Hmmm. The creation of the profile should not be taken lightly, she noted to herself. A cursory trawl through some of them had left her impressed and agog in equal measure. She thought about categorising them: The Narcissist ( one thousand words minimum on likes in a woman and likes about himself - yikes), The Mentalist (I like to drink wine and dance to music on my own, I am so at one with myself), The Reductionist (unhappy at home and need some distraction), The Shrewd (single professional seeks cultured individual for mutual fun) etc etc. However, time was of the essence and that task of analysing the dating types could wait til later. She adopted The Shrewd approach and posted a profile in which she stated the bare details of herself and invited those who wished to contact her.
Now all she had to do was wait and see.
She was, after all, known for her minx-like behaviour, her love of the irreverent and generally upbeat demeanour. She had a reasonable amount to offer, or so she believed.
PussyGirl wondered what the competition would be like; perhaps slightly unladylike to say it, but nonetheless a consideration - the driving force of many a man, and woman's, motivation and not to be overlooked.
"I shall engage in this as an anthropological experiment," she thought to herself, "I will research the beast that is the Internet dater, perhaps engage is some philosophical reflection upon my own status as an outsider within or maybe even meet someone and get it on with them," she mused.
Starting up was easy and she dedicated surprisingly little time to the operational detail. She picked a site at random and registered. She noticed, that slightly unfairly, women did not pay for their membership on this site while the men did. Still, perhaps that was a bit of positive discrimination she could overlook just this once.
The profile? Hmmm. The creation of the profile should not be taken lightly, she noted to herself. A cursory trawl through some of them had left her impressed and agog in equal measure. She thought about categorising them: The Narcissist ( one thousand words minimum on likes in a woman and likes about himself - yikes), The Mentalist (I like to drink wine and dance to music on my own, I am so at one with myself), The Reductionist (unhappy at home and need some distraction), The Shrewd (single professional seeks cultured individual for mutual fun) etc etc. However, time was of the essence and that task of analysing the dating types could wait til later. She adopted The Shrewd approach and posted a profile in which she stated the bare details of herself and invited those who wished to contact her.
Now all she had to do was wait and see.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Initiation
This all started some time ago - a decision made not in a moment of madness, but after much cogitation.
PussyGirl had endured some heavy trials in her life thus far and this was her attempt at breaking free. Well, not quite.
She had, in the short space of three years, witnessed and lived though the horrific near fatal road accident of her beloved twin, left the abusive and emotionally repressed husband who had witheld sex for five years and then fucked the biggest trollop in the office - in between bouts of drunken abuse doled out after his Friday night outing with the office and focused purely on the revolting nature of his wife and partner of 9 years; and then, to top it all, the new guy she had met and fallen in love with killed himself while she was out of the country celebrating her recent unexpected redunadancy.
It was true, she had experienced the roughest of rides and she didn't mean sex. And that is what got her thinking.
Sex, indeed, the opposite sex, why not? Eight years of celibacy had left her slightly out of the game.Deadboy had reinvigorated her, igniting her desires to all sorts of heady levels. But, he had died, and so did a piece of her. The depression set in and she went madder than she thought possible.
A lot of sibling love and friendship later, she emerged to find a new job and started the slow journey back to normality and humanity.
And then she started to think about maybe at least trying again. Why not? She was young, attractive and known for her wit and generosity. She didn't want to be alone forever. Deadboy was the great love. But he died and how! And he wasn't coming back. Even Eunuch Man, the ex, had found some poor unfortunate to move in with him and make his dinner in exchange for the odd blowie on a Friday night.
She needed a plan and she mustered one pretty quickly. Cliched, but nevertheless very doable, she decided to start her quest. She thought about it - she had been a virtual wife - everything but the sex and love; she had been a virtual fiancee - everything but the future with the man himself; so sod it, she would do the only thing she could. Go virtual and start her internet dating quest.
There was fun to be had. Or so she thought......
PussyGirl had endured some heavy trials in her life thus far and this was her attempt at breaking free. Well, not quite.
She had, in the short space of three years, witnessed and lived though the horrific near fatal road accident of her beloved twin, left the abusive and emotionally repressed husband who had witheld sex for five years and then fucked the biggest trollop in the office - in between bouts of drunken abuse doled out after his Friday night outing with the office and focused purely on the revolting nature of his wife and partner of 9 years; and then, to top it all, the new guy she had met and fallen in love with killed himself while she was out of the country celebrating her recent unexpected redunadancy.
It was true, she had experienced the roughest of rides and she didn't mean sex. And that is what got her thinking.
Sex, indeed, the opposite sex, why not? Eight years of celibacy had left her slightly out of the game.Deadboy had reinvigorated her, igniting her desires to all sorts of heady levels. But, he had died, and so did a piece of her. The depression set in and she went madder than she thought possible.
A lot of sibling love and friendship later, she emerged to find a new job and started the slow journey back to normality and humanity.
And then she started to think about maybe at least trying again. Why not? She was young, attractive and known for her wit and generosity. She didn't want to be alone forever. Deadboy was the great love. But he died and how! And he wasn't coming back. Even Eunuch Man, the ex, had found some poor unfortunate to move in with him and make his dinner in exchange for the odd blowie on a Friday night.
She needed a plan and she mustered one pretty quickly. Cliched, but nevertheless very doable, she decided to start her quest. She thought about it - she had been a virtual wife - everything but the sex and love; she had been a virtual fiancee - everything but the future with the man himself; so sod it, she would do the only thing she could. Go virtual and start her internet dating quest.
There was fun to be had. Or so she thought......
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