Dating in the 20s in your 20s

continuation...

Let's preface some things before we continue. To all the incels who say that women never like nice guys and only like hot nerds like Clark Klint and that women hate real nerds and blah blah blah—WRONG! I hate all men. Equally.

But damn does mama love a nice pair of hunky man tits. She also loves a nice view of the moon on aisle 9 to 5, whenever Mr.Overworked and underpaid bends down wearing those tight-ass slacks. She also loves seeing the trailer park trash prince speed down the highway, who looked like he just stepped out the Ultraviolence Lana album. She also doesn't mind a nicely aged on the rocks, 65yr old man who's 4 more cigars away from lung cancer. An emo baddie wearing eyeliner thicker than my ass. And most importantly a Star Trek, D&D fanatic who's never-felt-the-touch-of-a-women geek who won't even look me in the eyes.

The point is, I don't have a type. Or rather, I have many and extremely varying types. Take this as a farewell warning to any future whiplashing events that may occur during my documentation.

commentary

haiii

2025

1/01/25

Suddenly only a few months have passed since my last entry and yet it has felt like I've been stuck in an Ikea store after hours surviving off of nothing but meatballs, while being hunted by the store manager for 3 weeks.

New Year, new me. This year I will become an even hotter, sexcier more sinisterly evil version of myself. Not out of spite or relational issues, but simply, because I'm bored. Lying is in fact the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But so is jacking off.

In commemoration of the Year of the Snake, I will be getting my freak ON. Just kidding, I'm actually terrified of sex. Equally repulsed by it as I am feining for Pyramid Head to come out my closet to rip me in half coochie first and split my skull vertically....or something like that.

I truly believe every man would look a bagillion million times hotter as a woman and that's not because I'm a girl kisser. It's just the natural order of things. Everytime you go outside you're guaranteed to see at LEAST one beautiful gorgina woman. Flip side, you only see a decent looking man once a full moon. Maximum! That's it.

commentary

i wrote this before i decided to add commentary.. erm..? tit size in the chat?

E-Dating

02/03/25

Contrary to public opinion, I do like dating apps. Not for dating (obviously who in their right mind does??), but for entertainment. Sue me.

Why are you on a dating app if not to date!?

Simply so, fair point, but let me counterargue you this: If man only fire for warmth, then man have no s'mores. If you only limit yourself to the confines of a single path, where is the adventure comrade?

Communication, yes, is important as I am always upfront of my intentions with chatting with strange men on the internet. However I have met the coolest, and equally disturbing, people on there. Most have which turned into some awesauce Instagram mutuals who periodically like my stories whenever I post a funny meme or a totally not unobtrusive thirst trap. Point is, if you come into any situation with strict expectations you're bound to fall short and settle. And I will never settle for mediocracy. I like dating apps because I like conversing with people who I wouldn't have the opportunity to do so in the first place. And also, I vowed to myself I would NEVER let my how did you guys meet? story be the result of a freaking dating app. Call me a health conscious SAHM because I want ORGANIC. I'm a lover girl deep down in my blue balls. Papa loves his fanfics and shoujo manga okay?

Hinge will be my primary form of entertainment within these next few months. I'm brave enough to admit that Tinder scares me. Nobody on there is funny. No one there is original. It's like flipping through a bad Abercrombie magazine ad. I'm also brave enough to admit that most men are boring as fuck. Not just a Tinder thing, but universally. And before I hear a Not all men—SHUT THE FUCK UP ONG I GET IT WE GET ITTTTTT. YOU'RE ALL UNIQUELY SPECIAL AND INTERESTING AND EVERYTHING YOU GUYS SAY IS SOOOO FUNNY AND BLAH BLAH BLAH—You guys are also annoying as FUCK. Damn. Almost lost my cool there. Nonetheless for everytime you meet a cool guy, there's an even cooler woman in his life whom he's curated his personality from. Whether intentionally or not.

Just like a real date, I prefer the process of getting ready rather than the actual date itself. Making a profile is one of my favorite things to do. I really think I just like customization. I think I spend more time curating my profile than actually spending the time to talk to people.

commentary

how to add a live chat box??? i want to see commentary

Cannibalistic Ovulation

05/05/25

My attraction towards men is like how deer eat meat when it's convenient.
And right now I'm a sickle fawn who's starving.

I'm ovulating so badly that I feel like peeling back my skin down to the bone and gnaw on it like a rabid dog 'till it splinters in my throat.
I don't quite understand the yearn, or the feeling of wanting to be needed. To be seen as a necessity to someone feels like being forced into a dependency. I want to be wanted. Desired above someone's natural instinct. To be needed the same way your lungs need air to breathe? No! I want to be wanted so badly that the sheer thought consumes you. That your lungs burn and ache, pleading for air as you continuously hold your head below the surface of the pool because the water on your lips fill the missing weight of mine.

I don't want to be served on a silver platter for wine-tasting. I want to be selfishly eaten by a drunk.

Anyways I've been listening to a lot of Evanescence and been consuming an alarming amount of angst fics of ghost porn recently.

If you haven't caught on yet, I've been in a major writer's block. Supa mega eye roll and double vom.

Most of my best work has been sprouted through the dark, lonely ages of my great ovulated brain. In fact, everytime you read one of my passages like a feasible peasant reading the great king's announcement, I hope you understand that at the current times of writing I'm horned up to 110% of blue balled horsepower. Sorry. That was kind of grody. Actually no it wasn't you're just a freaking prudette.

In a weird, actually grody, realization that the only way to relieve the agonizing feeling of wanting to rub one out of my phatmon dick comes down to 3 options:

1. Eat an entire jar of peanutbutter with a cold metal spoon

Formally, 8/10. A cult classic really. However I think I'm allergic to peanut butter in these recent years but I'm too poor to schedule an appointment to professionally verify with an allergist, so for now I'm avoiding the nut (technically legume) like the plague until then.

2. Jackoff

9/10. Great, but requires complete privacy and there's only so much my right hand man (or should I say left hand man in this case) can handle before dying on the frontlines (carpal tunnel).

3. Writing

10/10. I should really just invest in a journal shouldn't I? I think the aspect of concentration that writing tends to bring out of me and the inability to use both heads at the same time, works well.

Controversial opinion but I think more people should revert back to the dark ages of masturbation and start relying solely on imagination to get off. I feel men specifically have been too spoiled in the accessibility of beautiful women that they've forgotten the roots of a tasteful 70s bush porno mag. If I were president of the states, I would mandate that every man to take a 2 semester course of woman's studies and minor in cuntolgoy of sex work and subscribe to a videography of performative sex & the viewship of women in male lense media. Then I would castrate them all. But that second part is only bc I'm actually an evil dictator.

commentary

Is hentai worth it?

Date Everything Game

06/28/25

I'm patriotic in the way that every character that Jonah Scott voices, my cervix starts singing the pledge of allegiance to his parents like a prayer for going raw 31 years ago. Take me to Paris the way I want to be eiffel towered between Volt and Eddie, double decker sandwich style. Call me the cannibalistic catacombs of France the way I'm dying for Eddie to eat me out.

Let me continue off saying that I have yet to play this beautiful game firsthand. The rite of passage as a poor, broke, unemployed twenty year old is sitting alone in my room watching strangers through my uranium device live out my fantasy like a cuck.
Speaking of, my dear Hector the AC vent... oh where do I even start? My neck has a cramp and my face still has grill marks from frenching my air vents too hard. I want Hector in a 2013, dorked up awkward first date sitting on his couch and watching Warm Bodies for the first time, while we both try to ignore how insanely hot Nicholas Hoult playing a zombie was while he ate out Juliet's boyfriend's brains out kind of way. I want to proofread his fanfiction while he reenacts rule 34 on me. I want to play with his temp nozzle and make him call me the imposter the way I would kill it up in his vents. Too much?

Honorary mention to Doug, the personification of existential dread. You either hate him or want him and I want to slap his bald head so hard that the vibrations of him falling to the floor and the sound of his massive mantits bouncing, shoot through my cooch so hard that all the water in my system niagara falls out of her. Wow.
Can't believe I just wrote that. Can't believe you just read that.

Doug, my dear misunderstood hunky boytoy. He's entirely too rude and absolutely too full of himself. Don't get it confused now, I'm already intolerable with the standard man IRL. If ANY male spoke to me in the same manner as Doug I think I'd actually have to kill him. Kidding. No I think my boygina would instantly shrivel up and fall off if I had to experience a man who thinks throwing insults is an acceptable way of flirting. I love Doug firstly, because well, he's fictional. Secondly, well, because he's a fucking beefcake and I wasn't breastfed as a baby. I need Doug in a way that's concerning to feminism because feminism is about equity & equality. And I don't want equity nor do I see Doug as my equal. He's nothing more than yummy eyecandy with a smart mouth that I would so gladly slap the shit of. I would go as far as to say Doug would be my perfect man if he did exist on the physical plane of our dimension as he'd let me become the most vile, perverted version of myself. There would finally be a man on planet earth to not only let me verbally degrade him and entertain a mutual humiliation of snarky commentary, but to nurture the foundation of mutual respect and trust that we have for each other. That's what makes Doug so appealing. His vulnerability to be multifaceted with being a freaking, annoying jerkhole as well as being a beautiful hunk.
However within the poor realities of life, no man can exceed that level of dimension. Doug is peak male visuals: paperwhite, buff and beefy like a Texas Roadhouse steak, bald like a pingpong ball and a face of that of an emoticon. No guys he's literally an emoticon.

Anyways, don't know where I was going with this really. Post nut clarity is falling short just like my flaccid hard-on and now I'm just spewing incoherentable nonsense.

commentary

Who's your favorite character from Date Everything!?

That's Not Normal

xx/xx/xx

Ah yes, one of the most common phrases I've heard my friends yell at me in both horrification and concern.

The real reason I wanted to write a blog about my dates is that I am cursed. Not in a Beauty and the Beast kind of you'll never find true love nonsense. But in a less harmless, much more sinister way. Passed down from generations by the woman in my bloodlines like a precious family heirloom, the curse of Hermes. I, like many of the women in my family, have an exceptional gift of finding the weirdest fucking people and experience the weirdest fucking situations that sound so made up you think I read it off a reddit post.

Let's rip the bandaid off.
Every date I've ever been on with a man and every encounter I've ever had with a man who was mildly interested in me, has unexpectedly spoon fed me like a baby. Choo Choo trolley train, airplane into the second tower, sound effects and all. You name it.

Another similarity that all these m*n had came from the same formula: youngest son of all older sisters. Which isn't inherently weird but I'm very much the older sister stereotype.
With this, I'm not sure what I would like to do with that connection but my dear friend made it very clear what it could mean... Everyday you guys keep egging on Fe*d's theories...
Oh should I also add that I was wearing rede lipstick with matching red nails on these dates? Does that even help my case??

When it first happened I was surprised to say the least. A little awkward and definitely not something I would have done myself to him. By the 4th first date I had that year, I just naturally assumed that it was the protocol for every first date. Mind you, during these FIRST dates, this was the FIRST time I had ever met any of these guys. Imagine my surprise when I later, far later, told my friends about my little observation and met eyes that were struck with absolute horror and disgust. I wasn't like they mama bird vomit fed me? Was it really that weird? Ya. Yeah so I learned soon after my intervention that it's pretty weird to get handfed by a man you just met. Not once but mulitple times by different men as well. Even weirder if you ask me that THEY wanted to feed a random girl they just met.
The fact that NONE of my friends has ever experienced this has left me down a deep waterfall of questions. Not even my freakazoid male friend has ever spoon fed a woman on a first date!

Do I look like I need to be spoon fed?? What does that even mean? What does this mean about me as a person? I couldn't find answers on reddit or quora to help so I guess this really is an original experience.

Good news as of 2025... the feeding curse is broken!! Give me ur bank info!!!

Mr. Meow Meow has yet to handfeed me underwater millionaire submarine explosion style. In fact when I first had takoyaki, I demaneded he close and cover his eyes while I had my 7 minutes in heaven way with that dreamy, delicious fried squid ball and oh god that creamy kewpie mayo-precum and sweet brown liquid gold spilling out the corners of my mouth and onto my eager fingers as they pushed the warm takoyaki further in while the flirty bonito flakes danced for my tongue as I savoured every bite and let my teeth sit back and relax as the giant, spherical super-stuffed aching fried ball melted into my hot breathless mouth without having to chew just like when Geto deep-throated cursed balls.

Yeah so I'm like, no idea why I keep attracting freaklings.

commentary

have you ever been handfed on a first date?

Birthdays + 21

10/03/25

Dual blog post bc I realized that procrastinating my blog for over a year means I have a clogged toliet full of posts.

I started writing this blog when I was freshly 20 and almost a year later and I still hadn't uploaded this thing. On the plus side, almost a year later nothing in my dating life has changed... more or less I suppose... wink wink
Oh how time flies by really. I feel after turning 15 time becomes inconsequential, and I'm not not trying to sound like this profound new age wannabe guy who just discovered the epiphany of time passing. It's just a weird feeling to experience.
Anyways let's get down to business (I say as I take my 5th shit of the day within 10mins of the previous turd bomb that annihilated the toliet pipes ((dear god why can't I stop shitting it's like hot fucking lava new york style shitdogs coming out of 12th street named hemroid lane)) I'm afraid if I keep shitting like this I'll end up gassing myself out with my kryptonium mustard gas farts). Yeah I wrote that all inbetween my intern shit runs btw

Hello hello 21st birthday. Ladies, ladies let big papa buy you a drink.
Let's bring back clerbing. Not clubing—clerbing. Bring back getting hot n sticky from dancing too closely with your friends, smelling like everyone's perfumes mixed together, feet cramping up from wearing cheap heels and drunk off of even cheaper drinks that you pre-gammed a little too early so now you're pretty sure you're already wasted by now.
I was given a false promise of getting to live out my twenties like Snookie from jersey shore and goddamit america! I want my ass out, extensions chopped, tits bouncing and legs toned while I dance with a 5'7 italian-american bombshell.

I've been debating if I wanted to write about finally being 21 or if I should wait until I've lived about 9months post legal drinking age and pop out with a 6 pack of Coronas and leave it by the fire station.
Sorry my crude humor and 4th wall breakage isn't hitting as normal. I'm not my usual sexually frustrated self because I finally got laid last night.

Kidding.

Imagine though? Sigh. I'm in a bit of a doozy as okay, well how do I start this? I've been lying to you all and I've actually been on five consecutive (7? ((maybe more)) depending when I finally publish this) dates. That's all. The end.

No okay so like, here's the thing... so yeah that's basically it... okkkokay OKAY. ok. ok. I finally got to experience my very own organic matchmaking meet cute sometime during the begining of summer. Remember how I said I would only take dating serious if it's through a grapevine situation? WEll my personal grapevine telephoned me about a certain guy and one thing led to another and now we're boning freak style and he's pregnant. Kidding. Again. Okay so no, we've just been on a few handful of dates. SUE ME! If you want to read more about that you can finally check out the bottom section of my main page.

I have weird superstitions and one of them being that my odd years, (17, 19, 21 etc.) are always supa fun and messy while my even years of age are like the epitome of the bleh moody wet months of winter. Being 21 I finally have my licenses (deathly afraid of driving tho) and been out the house with friends how many times??? 5 billion times to be exact!! It's actually monumental guys, you don't even know. Got my associates and back in University so papa is finally gettinf their academics in order and locking the fuck IN. Now all I really want to do is get back into becoming a gym hottie with banging arms and a phat ass. I actually hate working out tb with a big H. Being sweaty is my mortal enemy and everything about it is digusting! I'm excited to get hottie again, creative get sexci and get eruditive. (Hope I used that word correctly). I made a self goal to start expanding my vocabulary. I feel stunted in my verbiage and diction use and surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) I actually have tons of trouble formulating my thoughts out loud. Nothing wrose than feeling limited with yourself.
Year of the Snake so we're getting ambitious and orderly! Flash ur tits! Who said that?????

commentary

There's nothing better than green, cold cash. Deep down I love money. Fucking love it. If I had to choose between infinite money or a domestic life? You already know what big papa is choosing. Money isn't above love but it sure is above everything else. Big papa with big bands and lots of lovers and many cats? Sigh what a life. Ok done rambling. Toots!

January

12/28/26

Wow.

Crazy year tbh.

Finally done shedding the remaining bits of the Snake so new year and new outlook. Just like the Sundays I'm a wild horse who can't be dragged down.

Currently resuming life as a full time student again after wasting away and jerking myself off in a fun house mirror maze for the past year in a half. One step closer to my degree! I say as I hunch over my laptop 24hrs a day and fundamentally convex my spine into a shrimp mold. The city I live in is disgustingly grey and pathetically... how do I say, a triple P mon. Air pollution, noise pollution and an uggo infrastructure pollution. To cope I'm trying to romanticize the hell out of it by gaslighting myself into believing the streets of *redacted location* is just a low budget New York city sigh. Concrete jungle? No more like concrete Nature Valley crunch bar from all the construction and potholes everywhere.

Mandani! Mandani! Can you hear me pls. Come save us...

I genuinely thought I finally lost the art of writing for a moment but now, like morning wood the ideas are just springing out of me. Boing! Okay that was cringe. Finally icked myself out.

I don't think I should be taking dating seriously in my early twenties... who would have figured... I'll give myself 'till the age of 25 or my bachelor's degree will I actually try to be a functioning person who's capable of a real relationship. My priorities have all been twisted up. It's not like my plate is full or anything, I'm just not hungry. Let a man do some taste testing dammit! Plus this is called dating in your 20s in the 20s... so papa only has a few more years left to play around until the inevitable 2030 (holy freaker that is not a real date). By then I guess I'll have to abandon this work or revamp it somehow if the dating scene continues to stay absolutely egregious.

Mr.Meow Meow if you hadn't put two and two together by now, is offically back in the pound. I erm, didn't feel like cleaning the litter box everday is what I can say in the most vague metaphorical way ever. In all honesty I think I would have had more meaningful conversations with a real cat or my vagina. Reowr! I think part of my reluctancy with getting into a romantic relationship is that I grew up with supa strict parents and now that I finally have moments of freedom, I don't want to settle. I want to see everything and meet so many people and just have fun. I know I could do all that with a partner but there are too many factors I'd have to take into consideration and frankly beans, I just don't care for that. Some days I wanna chit chatting it up till sunrise and other days all I want to do is read twilight fanfiction about Leah Clearwaters while I fart it up in my bed. So I do like romance and crave it just like the next guy, but I have my whole life for that.
For now, I'd much rather daydream about the hot n sexc lawyer Hiromi Higuruma from JJK coming home from a stressful trial and rocking my shit. Or daydream about being a vastaya like Lest from Arcane and get crossed up in a bar fight, so then Sevika saves me and we become hot n steamy roomates in her new place in the council city.

commentary

favorite coffee order? (mines 60/40 decaf almond milk with steeped cocoa rooibos tea with honey and cinnamon ((i make mine at home)) )

Come Back L8ter

xx/xx/xx

Seriously. There's nothing to see here.

Filler spot for next post. This is my template!

STOP READING

commentary

xxx