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Ether I’m a prude or you’re just crude…

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Last night I made a fatal mistake. Well, not literally fatal because nobody died. Yet. But still…

This bloke Charliedog has sent me seven messages and four winks in the last two weeks. No photo, so I ignored him. Last night another two winks flew into my inbox, and my conscience started  pontificating in my ear. Good word that, pontificate. Anyway, I felt guilty. Really guilty and bad-mannered and rude. So I sent him a message.

Sometimes I can be so stoopid.

As my finger left the Send button, up popped an Instant Messenger screen:

Hello! At last!
What joy!

How do I contact you?
What’s your number?
Mobile number, please.
What are you doing?
How do you spend your days?
Number, please.
I can’t get to know you through typing.
You’re one sexy lady.
Number, please…

I hadn’t typed a word. Not. One. Word.

Somehow, Charliedog managed to reach into the ether and grab my telephone number. I swear I didn’t supply it  but then, it all happened so fast…And I was stuck on the bloody phone for two hours. Two long hours of my life, gone. Never to be relived.  Thank God…

He droned on about every woman he’d ever had, the finer points of broadband downloading speed and how many times he’d been in conflict with the police – never his fault, of course. Was I impressed? I think not.

Now I’m well-known for being a flirt and making naughty comments; I can usually be replied upon to lower the tone in any conversation, but even I objected to this:

What’s your bra size?
What’s your bra size? How big are your tits?
42GG. How big’s yer dick?
Eight inches of solid, throbbing beefstick. It’s all yours, babe. Think what you could do with it!
Oh, I am. And I’ve got
just the knife to do the job…

Now, is this an acceptable way to talk to a woman? A woman you haven’t yet met?  Was I supposed to be impressed? Salivating with lust and desire?  Flirting is fun, it’s silly, it makes you giggle, but blatant crudity is just cheap and nasty. And this is one of the main problems with online dating; men hiding behind their computer screens because they don’t know how to converse with a female in real life, and some think it’s a Quick-Stop-Sex-Shop.

Charliedog’s dying words as I was hanging up?  I bet you’re glad to have found someone intelligent, eh?
Oh, yes. What joy…

PS The photo isn’t me. And I lied about the bra size. I’m more of a training-bra kinda girl…  😉



About Tiny Temper

I'm a middle-aged freelance writer living in Cornwall. And no, it's not all sun, sand and steaming pasties. I've been married, done the divorce and accidentally shrunk the tee-shirt.

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