Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 24 - The Valentine's Day Special

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 23 - Will The Real J-Wunder Please Stand Up?!

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 21 - New Year, New Crazy Shit!

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 19 - Girls Are The New Boys

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 9 - The New Age of Dating

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 8 - Let's Talk About Sex, Baby...Oh, And Other Shit, Too

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 7 - A Week To Never Remember

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 5 - The Reality Show We Call Life

Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 4 - Giving It To Them Straight

Boys Don't Deserve Names

At some point in my generation, girls became women and we said enough is enough. Enough of boys dragging us through the dirt only for us to help them every step of the way. Enough of us trying to read signs and decode secret messages when he was just “playing it cool.” Enough of being stood up and ignored and ENOUGH BAD SEX. It was time we started playing the game as well.

The Game
What is the game you may ask? Let me explain with a short story.

Girl meets guy. Guy meets girl. They like each other. But they don't want each other to know that they like each other. So both of them will simultaneously try to make the other think that they don't like them. Such things as blowing each other off, ignoring each other, and talking to other people are common occurrences. These patterns will usually continue until one person says "fuck it" and decides to cut all ties with the other, also known as "ghosting." And because the other person does not want that person to think that they care that they're being "ghosted", they reciprocate the "ghosting"  in which neither party will ever speak again. The end.

This seems to be a general theme within our generation. HOWEVER, I think us goddesses have evolved even further (per usual) and have learned to really play guys like the back of our hand. So much so that most of the time we don’t even dane to call them by their real names. Thus, begins my series of boys who do not deserve names.

Italian Boy 
Ahhh to be young and naive in San Francisco again. And by young and naive, I mean 5 months ago before I learned how dating in a big city works (I’m 22 for reference). Meet, Italian Boy. My first lover in the golden city. Before I became completely engrossed in the dating app scene (we’ll get into this later), I actually met this guy in real life. Ok, so, it was in a club. BUT STILL. Maybe we didn’t meet in a grocery store between the peas and carrots, but at least technology wasn’t involved. It was a pretty typical occurrence. We caught eyes. I stared. He stared. We made out. He grabbed my butt. I got tired and ditched him to get burritos. However, he did get my number which is how this whole rendezvous got started.

Like most guys do, he began by trying to woo me. We went out to drinks. I met his friends. We went back to his place. We drank wine. He cooked us risotto. It was orgasmic...

He then continued to tell me why everything is better when it’s Italian. Italian wine. Italian food. Italian people. Oh, did I mention he was Italian? We then had passionate, great sex (although I didn’t orgasm, so was it really?) and I went on my merry way.

Over the next two weeks we hung out a few times. Saturday brunch. Drinks at his place. I started dirty texting him for the first time in my life ever (OMG), but eventually the texts became less frequent and I found myself asking him to hang out way more than he way asking me. So I asked him what his deal was and he said “I want to spend more time with my friends and not have a serious relationship right now.” Typical. So, I cut all ties only to text him a few weeks later that we should still see each other, but only in the most casual capacity, if you get my drift.

He agreed, but now I had the power. Over the next few weeks, I continued to ignore most of his texts except once or twice for when I occasionally gave in. HOWEVER, he started hitting me with the “you never respond ;),” “did you fall asleep last night,” and my favorite, “we should actually plan a time to hang out instead of leaving it up to chance.”

LIKE WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS DOING WHEN WE FIRST MET?!!?! Bye bitch.

I still text this guy every once in a while but this is just to prove that men want you to be all over them until you actually are and then they want something else. Mic drop. Thank you, next.

TV Guy
Awww TV guy. Sad this one didn’t work out. Would have loved being a sports reporter wife and fucking all the players behind his back. Just kidding but…hahaha. This was the first 30 plus guy I fucked in the city (don’t judge). It started out normal (as they always do). Saturday Breakfast. I was extremely hungover for this and had to go to work after UHG. Drinks and dinner. Sex at his place.

Before things started to heat up, I came to find he likes to talk dirty, and by likes to talk dirty I mean REALLLLLYY likes to talk dirty. Here I was, second time meeting this guy, as he’s whispering in my ear that he wants to french kiss my pussy instead of my mouth. It was obviously a red flag, but I was horny so whatever. We went to his room and started messing around until I asked him to grab a condom. Of which he has the most typical response ever that he can’t get hard with a condom, which I know is actually a thing but guys are such babies about it. Anyways, I tell him to try since I’m not having unprotected sex with a practical stranger (even though I have and probably still will occasionally, no judgment here). And we end the night with mediocre, half hard, half soft sex while he repeats things like “you like that?” and “is that big enough for you.” Sigh. Boys are idiots.

So what happened after that? I’ll give you one guess.

Boo.

Finance Guy 
We’ve all had a finance guy in our life. Those VC’s you assume are rich but you have no idea what they actually do or how much they actually make. He was 30 again  (I know I’m predictable). I’ve been told it’s because I’m mature, but LOL AM I??? Anyways. This guy was pretty granola. He had a great bod and could hold a conversation, but I can’t seem to recall one personality trait I really liked about him. He also religiously used condoms and was wayyyyy too into missionary.

However, this was the first guy I ever tried butt stuff with, and he liked when I gave him a little butt attention as well. WAIT DID SHE JUST SAY BUTT STUFF?!!? GUYS LIKE BUTT STUFF??!!? Yes they do, and not just giving but receiving (no, not a dildo up the ass but let's just say my fingers lingered a little past the balls). I’m not sure when the butthole became such sacred territory. Vaginas literally bleed every month, but for some reason people freak out that shit comes out of the asshole. I really don’t get it. It’s also soooo cliche that butt stuff is soooo sexy when it comes to a guy doing it to a girl, but the second you bring attention to it for guys they all become little bitch boys and freak out. Whatever.

This relationship ended in a somewhat cringeworthy fashion with the condom ending up inside of me, and him having to buy me plan B. After which, neither of us spoke again. That’s one way to break it off with a boy lol.

Crutch Wrap Supreme 
Look!!! An age appropriate guy!!! He’s 25!!! Too bad I named him after a Taco Bell menu item. This guy was a friend of a friend of a friend. We were all hanging out at my friend’s place when all these boys came over. One of them I kind of knew, and he proceeded to express his love to me throughout the night, and I was kind of into it. BUT. HIS FRIEND. Started making moves on me, and I didn’t really know what to do at first. Because MY friend didn’t make any moves, I started canoodling with HIS friend and we started making out at the bar. Confused? Same.

OH. I forgot to tell you he was on crutches this whole time, hence the name.

Anyways. I was actually making out with him in a bar right next to Finance Guy’s place and was texting finance guy throughout the night. Because I started freaking out that I might run into them both at the same time, I decided to ditch Crutch Wrap Supreme and meet Finance Guy near his place. HOWEVER, as I left the bar Crutch Wrap Supreme was at and walked over to where I was going to meet Finance guy, these foreign dudes (maybe Italian) started talking to my friend and I. We (mostly me) took a few drags of their cigarettes as we chatted with them. AND THEN, CRUTCH WRAP SUPREME shows up at the place I was supposed to meet FINANCE GUY. I end up having to practice my ninja skills by running past Finance Guy, tapping his shoulder, and skipping around the corner, so he sees me, follows me, and gets out of the viewpoint of Crutch Wrap Supreme.

And that was the last I saw of Crutch Wrap Supreme. He had my number, and we texted back and forth a couple times, but he never followed up on his proposal to grab dinner.

I wonder why? hahaha

Philosopher Boy
I interrupt this program to bring you some actual wholesome content. I promise you I’m not a cold, hard bitch all the time. This is a prime example of those guys that are perfect. Meaning they check off all the boyfriend qualifications like taking you to fancy dinners, introducing you to their friends, listening to your rants, and genuinely just being a great person. BUT FOR SOME STUPID FUCKING REASON YOU JUST DON’T FUCKING LIKE THEM GOD DAMMIT.

Philosopher boy was great. He took me to restaurants with tasting menus. He surprised me with fun dates. He was a great kisser. He went to Princeton and could hold a great conversation, but he just wasn’t the one *sigh*. My friend and I even hung out with him together once and she told me she could tell I wasn’t into him. As hard as I tried, you just can’t force connection. And so I ended up having to break up with a guy I wasn’t actually in a relationship with but was so nice that I couldn’t just ghost him. After getting some input from my peers we crafted the perfect break up text that I’m just going to leave here in case anyone else ends up in this situation.

The Break Up Text
“Hey, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you, but I don’t feel the connection I’m looking for. I just want to be upfront and honest about my feelings and don’t want to lead you on...you’re such a great guy but just not the one for me.”

Barf. At least it’s not the “It’s not you, it’s me” bullshit.

Frisky Boy 
Get ready for some juicy shit. Ok, where do I even begin? This all started on Hinge when some boy wanted to test my friskiness via text. I ended up texting him and not really giving him much to work on because let’s face it, I had never met him before. He then ended up not responding to me for about a week, of which I responded by sending him, a complete stranger, a semi-nude because 1. I felt like it and 2. I honestly just wanted the attention. For reference, it was a photo of my bare legs with my panties at my ankles and my hand looking as if I was going to feel myself…oh so sexy. This completely surprised him and jump started our frisky connection. It turns out, he was one kinky motherfucker, and we started dirty texting like no other. I am very new to the dirty texting world, and he completely opened my eyes. He would tell me things like how he wanted to fold me over his table, tie me up and fuck me slowly in the ass. He would ask me for nudes at work, and I would dutifully take them in the bathroom stalls. I loveddd when he told me what to do which is very new to me since I HATE when people tell me what to do in real life. I guess giving up control was a sense of relief for me.

HOWEVER, although I loved doing what he wanted, I didn’t lose sight of the fact that he thought he was some real. hot. shit. He lovvveeeeeddd playing the “busy” card and the “I’m so important I can’t text you back” card. So. Naturally. I had to fuck with him a little.

The first time he ignored me for a full night, he had specifically told me to text him later and see if we could hang out. I texted him and he simply did not respond. We were supposed to hang out the next day, so I let him know in the morning, “If you think we’re hanging out tonight, you’d be wrong.”

He apologized and blubbered and shit, but that’s when I realized I had to play this guy in order to come out on top.

Next time he ignored me for a full day, I followed up with a text saying, “getting ready for a date tonight, is this cute?” and a pic of me in my sexy, black underwear. He responded within seconds. This just further proved my point he was trying to play games. Mind you, this was a 33 year old man. You’d think they'd get better. They don’t. He ended up trying to be mean at first by saying “Very cute. Are you excited?” But then followed up with “I like that you’re trying to make me jealous.” This then started our convo on how he wanted to know the type of guys I was dating, and who I had hooked up with in the past. I sent him pictures of the guys and told him how far I had gone with them. Like I said, kinky motherfucker.

He, AGAIN, was not giving me enough attention one day so I hit him with the “just so you know, I will be fantasying about you fucking me with another girl tonight.” He, again, immediately responded (so, so predictable) with a million questions of whether or not I’ve done that before and if I actually wanted to.

I told him I was curious about it (which I was), and he proceeded to tell me about the French, Vietnamese model he used to date who was really into women. We then ended up starting a group message with Frisky Boy, Hot Model Girl, and me, and we all started dirty texting each other and getting flirty. I was really down to make this happen.

HOWEVER, Frisky Boy did as Frisky Boy does, and ignored me again for the last time. I ended up confronting him about it of which he didn’t respond to me AGAIN. And so, I followed up with a “Goodbye forever :)” text and blocked him on everything. It may seem dramatic but he should be graveling at my feet for what I was about to do for him. I did recently follow Hot Model Girl on Instagram though, so maybe something fun will actually come out of this after all.

Hot Model Girl
I can’t say  too much about Hot Model Girl yet, but she DID follow me back on Instagram and we exchanged a few DMs. Nothing has happened yet, but I’ve realized I’m open to the idea of girl on girl. Who knew?

Boy I Actually Liked
Time for the grande finale. I thought I would end this series by getting a little vulnerable with you guys. It’s all fun and games when you’re talking about sex and fuck boys, but there’s some real shit I have to address as well.

There was this guy. We’re just going to call him just Guy for lengthy purposes. He was actually my roommate for a few months along with 6 of my other friends. We also were co-workers in the same department (oh, so spicy).

It started out fairly innocent. We’d flirt. Go to the gym together. Get lunch together. I had a bad day, he bought me chocolate. He’d photoshop my face onto fish. You know, the normal stuff. I was actually really into him (although I denied it constantly, and still deny it lol). I know I was into him because he annoyed the shit out of me. Why is it that the guys I actually like are usually the ones I can’t stand to be around?

I think it might have been because he really knew me. Most of these guys I talk about think I’m hot and pretty. Some of them think I’m smart or quirky, but none of them really see me. They don’t know what makes me tick or what drives me. Guy knew. And I knew it about him as well.

Looks wise, he was a dreamboat, tall, blonde, brown eyed and a little scruffy. He was one of those super passionate, artsy types which I am too, but in a different way. If he has an idea he HAS to make it happen and won’t really listen to other’s opinions about it. I guess I’m almost jealous of him in that way (almost). I, on the other hand, LOVE hearing what people have to say and analyzing it until I find the most probable outcome (I know, I’m such a nerd). I like creating art but I want to create collective visions, not just my own. Anyways, as you can imagine, us working together caused us to…butt heads. Then, having to live together only made things worse.

I kind of wish things had worked out differently. I actually think if we had met five years later I would have fallen in love with him. We’re still friends, so maybe that will be a new chapter down the line.

Although I’m definitely all over the place when it comes to guys (and maybe girls? lol), I think there’s still hope for me in finding love and I can’t wait to experience it all.

Xoxo,
Girl Without A Name

Advice Column: Taking One For The Team

Dear J-Wun aka Ghetto Genius, 

Been following you for a minute and can't thank you enough for coming back. Days are much brighter now. Ok, my question for you - A few weeks ago, my buddies and I were at a bar.  We got shit faced and ended up meeting a group of random hot chicks.  The problem was, the chick I ended up talking to the whole night thought she was SO fucking hot when really, she was fluffy, wore inappropriate clothes for her size, talked way too much about herself and thought she was the whole 9.  I was completely drunk and I realized beer goggles couldn't get past trying to "take one for the team" with the chubster.  Even though I knew I had to so my buddy could get laid.     

What gives man? 

Sincerely,
Taking One for the Team



Dear Taking One for the Team,

All men have made the sacrifice.  The grenade jumping, dynamite diving, the bazooka belly flop.  I'm talking about hooking up with THAT one heinous chick so that your buddy could seal the deal with her friend.  And when I say, "seal the deal," I'm talking about smashing.  Plain.And.Simple.  Keep in mind too, when I say THAT chick, I don't mean that in any type of cool or pimp daddy way.  Hell nah.  I mean that as something you should take with a grain of fucking salt, bundle it up and throw it away.  Forever.  Take it to the grave.  Don't forget to bathe in 50 fucking bath bombs made from all things Clorox product related for a few days too.

Taking one for the team is something you should never be proud of. HOW-THE-FUCK-EVER, if it gets your buddy laid, then that shows loyalty and good karma. Because when it's time for you to step up to the plate and smash that hot chick from across the bar, that favor you did for your buddy will pay off ten-fold. Well...sometimes. I mean, if your buddy is a total fucking dickbag, then it looks like you'll be either masturbating with your tears when you get home, or banging another broad with a brown bag over her head. But hey, sometimes dry streaks happen. But I digress...

I remember when I jumped on my first grenade. It was in college. And it was fucking awful. The bitch was ugly as sin, loved to eat, talked a lot and had more hair on her vagina than a 70's porn star.  Now you're probably asking, "Why did you choose to have sex with her, J-Wunder?!" I didn't. I was fucking wasted beyond belief.  It just so happened that when my buddy took a fellow lady on a ride to Pound Town, it was in the living room of the hot chick and her ugly roommates apartment. That right there called for me and cyclops to go to her room. Cyclops? Yeah, the bitch was cross-eyed so bad, it looked like she had one fucking eye. Try sitting in a room, wasted, and have someone hitting on you.  Wanting the dilznick so fucking bad that they basically take off their clothes to implicate they want to fuck you.  I never sobered up so fast in my life. Matter of fact, I was so scared to touch her that my dick inverted into my stomach which made me look like, I too, had a vagina. A shaved one...but nonetheless a mud flapping imposter.

Here I am, willing to jump on a grenade, but not risk my life. Risk my reputation. Risk the very thought that J-Wunder fucked a one-eyed girl with a vagina the size of a London Broil. No way, no fucking how was this happening. Then came the questions?

What? You're too good for me? I'm too ugly? Why did you come over to my apartment if you didn't want a piece? Are you scared to be taken advantage of by a REAL woman?

This bitch obviously didn't get the memo that was sent out to the crew. Am I too good for you?  Based on looks, One-Eye Bandit, yes. Are you too ugly?  Have you looked at yourself in the fucking mirror lately? For fuck sakes, you're atrocious lady!  Hey, sorry for sounding like a complete fucking dick, ladies, but for fucks sake...I'm just being real!

Why did I come over to your apartment if I didn't want a piece? Bitch, two things: 1) My buddy wants to bang your hot ass roommate then cum on her back, so I'm here for support, 2) The only piece of anything I want, is that fucking slice of pizza I warmed up in your microwave that I can't go get now, because there's a goddamn fuck fest going on in your living room. Are you scared to be taken advantage of by a REAL woman?  The only thing real is that fucking bush you call pubic hair.

Never thought I would encounter a grenade so big. So difficult. So damn fucked up. But I'm a guy, and guys follow guy code. Til fucking death. Now does that mean I need to touch this chick? Nope.  As long as I keep her occupied until my buddy and her roommate finish, then mission accomplished.  You need to understand, it's these women, that keep the hot chicks from fucking dudes. They spoil that moment. The moment when the guy thinks he has it in the bag then cyclops walks up. All of the sudden the Haterade kicks in. She's tired. She wants to go home. That guy looks sleezy. He might have an STD. Blah, blah, blah.  Do you know how many other dudes had to deal with this chick so their buddies could bang the chick my buddy was fucking? Hundreds. I'm just sayin'.  Now, how many guys actually went through with fucking good 'ol One-Eyed Willy remains to be seen, but I bet she got hers. Which brings me to my point of your question.

This chick that you couldn't get yourself to fuck has fucked dozens of men based on taking advantage of the grenade rule. She plays the game because she knows that's the only way she'll get laid (nowadays, people will just fuck to fuck). Hell, if not laid, then at least giving someone dome. Think about it. You know you're ugly as shit so why not hate on men if you know all they want to do is nail your roommate/friend? Men hate chicks that hate, that's why we created the grenade rule. Cyclops is now reaping the benefits because of this rule. But don't get it twisted. Girls do this shit too...take one for the team when it comes down to SERIOUS desperate times and measures. So yeah, feel bad if you're the grenade. Shit, I know I've been a time or 40.

Your experience with Fatty Magee knows this rule all too well. It's up to you to either do what I did and keep her occupied by playing 3 hours of card games. Or, just say fuck it and go deep sea fishing my friend. Either way, your buddy will be proud and have your back when it's time for you to get yours.

Bros before Hoes,

J-Wunder

PSA: So You Think You Met A Fuckboy?

Dear GG Fam:

Have you or one of your squad fallen victim to a Fuckboy? Do you think you or someone you know may be vulnerable to Fuckboys? Did you wake up this morning, and say to yourself, "Self, I think I just fucked a Fuckboy?" 

Do not fret, my pretty, because it is not your fault. If you or one of your homegirls has been or is currently being fucked on by a Fuckboy, it is because Fuckboys are replicating at a rate faster than that of chlamydia during spring break. You see, before, you could tell a Fuckboy from a first glance - his Affliction shirt, day-glo orange tan, car that overcompensated for a small penis - the obvious Fuckboy give-aways. But today's Fuckboy has become faster, swifter, cleverer (but not really) and all-around, fuckier. Today's Fuckboy has a certain way of getting past Fuckboy radars of yore. Or women, as a whole, are getting dumber. I am going to go with what is behind door number 1, Bob. 

I will admit, I have seen some Fuckboy fuckery firsthand, and will now breakdown some of the more common species of homofuckboyious, more commonly known as "Fuckboy."

1) The Married-Man-Fuckboy:

This is the Fuckboy who is currently explaining to his wife why he has an Ashely Madison Account and his browser history is full of a website called backpage.com. Because trolling for strange punnany on Craigslist is so circa Fuckboy 2010. No, this Fuckboy thought he was going to have his cake and eat it, too, but that Ashley Madison tricked more Married-Man-Fuckboys than Thai LadyBoi in Vietnam into them thinking they had their Fuckboy game on point. However, now that the Ashley Madison spot has been blown up, I think we are going to see a The Married-Man-Fuckboy kick it old school. With the advent of the internet, we saw a downslide of skeezy men in bars, hitting on unsuspecting women, with obvious wedding ring tans and game so smooth, Billy Dee was getting the vapors in his no-no parts. Beware of The Married-Man-Fuckboy, and all of his "my wife just doesn't understand me like you do" bullshit game. And remember, Fuckboys, ain't shit, like bitches, hoes, and tricks. Ba-LEED-dat. 

2) The Convenience Fuckboy:  

Did you change your name to 7-11? No? Hmmmmm. Well, this type of Fuckboy is under the impression that you are there for his convenience and amusement. The real shittery of this Fuckboy is that this one isn't always about sex/dating. Maybe this Fuckboy thinks you may be attracted to them, so they, in all their Fuckboy bullshit ways, figure out a way to manipulate that to their gain. This Fuckboy usually also suffers from another disease, called hand-to-pocket disease. Are they down on their luck and need a good friend "to help them until they get back on their feet" or some other such monkey-mouth-bullshit? This Fuckboy is almost the worst of all (but wait, you will meet the worst soon), because they know all the right buttons to push to get you to buy them dinner, take them to concerts, wine them, dine them, but ain't no one 69-ing no one. Take this simple, one question "is this a Convenience Fuckboy" test: when you ask Fuckboy to hang out, do they always have some excuse or fuckery in their life, but when they want something from you, they call/text non-stop, until you breakdown and give into whatever it is they are wanting to do, but just don't seem to have the funds, a ride, or anyone that actually wants to hang out with their Fuckboy ass? You know the answer, sister girl. Rule numero uno: Fuck bitches, get money. NOT Fuckboys fucking on bitches and getting money, rides, dinner, movies, etc. If they want to treat your ass like an amusement park, charge that Fuckboy admission. Change your name to Busch Gardens. Stop shaving your pubes. Go fucking nuts. But, don't get tried by a Fuckboy anymore.

3) The Zero-Fucks-Given-Fuckboy: 

You must be so careful of this one, because the Fuckboy is so strong in them, they actually don't have any fucks to give, or so they would like you to believe. The Zero-Fucks-Given-Fuckboy is a borderline narcissist, if not a complete narcissist; that is another reason why you have to be uber-careful with their trickery and devil-penis-sorcery. They will lead you down a path of roses and sunshine, making you believe that they are in it to win it, and saying and doing all the Fuckboy Shit to make you think they are, on some level, picking up what you are throwing down. Then, as fast as you can say "abra-ca-Fuckboy" they pull one of their zero fucks out of their messenger bag of bullshit (because you know this Fuckboy is probably a hipster, on some level) and ghost your unknowing ass. And you say to yourself, "Self, did I just get played like the Ravens did by Oakland last Sunday, by this Fuckboy?" Now, here is where this Fuckboy gets their name. This kinda Fuckass-Fuckboy-Bitchface McGee earned his rep as the Fuckboy of Zero Fucks, because he will ghost your ass and then do some nefarious fuckery, like tryna get with one of your homegirls. He will give Zero Fucks that he is tryna kick game, and poorly, with your mothafucking bestie from the jump. He will pay no mind to the fact that he KNOWS that your ride-or-die bitch is going to send you screen shots of your conversations, and he will KNOW that she knows that you know that he knows he is spitting the SAME.EXACT.GAME to her. Because this motherfucker gives what? ZERO FUCKS. You almost have to admire his tenacity in being a Fuckboy. Nahhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck this Fuckboy, right in his Fuckboy dumper.

4) The Back-and-Forth-Fuckboy: 

Oh, this Fuckboy. This motherfucking Fuckboy. This is the worst of the worst. If the 3 aforementioned Fuckboys got together for a circle jerk in hell, and by some sort of slut magic produced a baby, it would be this Fuckboy. This guy, because he is not really a Fuckboy at first, doesn't even know he is playing games and dipping his toes in the pool of Fuckboy. Y'all meet, you hit it off, you start a thing - dating, fucking, beastiality (I don't know your life), and then shit starts to get real. And that is where Mr. Nice-Guy becomes The Fuckboy of all Fuckboys. He likes you, but he is not ready. He still has feelings for his ex, but you know, he is feeling you. He wants to be single, but he LOVES spending time with you. He likes you, but just can't do another long distance relationship (but will hang out, fuck you like it is his job and he is picking up a paycheck on Friday, and still tell you he adores you). He got baby momma drama, so he gotta keep you on the DL. I can keep going, but you get it. I get it. We all have gotten this or some sort of foolery equivalent to this before. You want to like this Fuckboy, too, but at the end of the day, if he is spitting this kind of foolishness your way, HE IS A FUCKBOY. The end.

I know, you are probably wondering how I know so much about Fuckboys? Well, you see dear heart, I am a Fuckboy magnet. Most of these scenarios mentioned above are ones that I have experienced or witnessed first hand. So, please, take what you have read to heart, and when you see the tiniest glimmer of Fuckboy beginning to rear its fugliness, you can pick up your Michael Kors tote and beat that Fuckboy within an inch of his life. Whatever you do, do not fall prey to his Devil-Magic-Fuckboy ways. There is not enough Rose and weed for those broken hearts. Trust me.

I would drop the mic here, but instead I am going to swing it and see how many Fuckboys I can knock out with it.

XO

H-Bomb

Advice Column: The (Simple) Rules Of Dating

Dear J-Wunder,

Like many of your fans I am in need of some advice. I am in my early 30's, never been married, no kids, and single. I dated my high school sweetheart for 8 years and since we split up, I haven't had much luck on the dating scene. The guys I meet are either the type to hit it and quit it or have a serious lack of ambition. I've followed the trend of finding dates on Tinder and not sure what to think of it. I have a career and support myself so why is it so hard to find a man who does the same for himself? Maybe I am doing this dating thing all wrong. Can you give me some tips for my future dates and maybe what to watch out for as red flags?

Sincerely,
About To Give Up on Men



Dear About To Give Up On Men,

Dating: It's not for everyone. However, some of those who are privy to it, aren't that fucking great at it.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard friends, family and random fucking strangers bitch and moan about their dating adventures that become a complete failure.

Everything from, "They weren't who I'd thought they'd be" to "OMG, that was a complete fucking disaster…why do I have the worst luck?!"…dating has created more stress in the 21st Century than it has back in probably any other decade.

The reality is that dating isn't rocket science. It's really quite simple, actually. The issue or problem nowadays, is that motherfuckers are way too selective, amongst other things, and need to learn how to get a fucking grip on life. Is that a bad thing? No, not  at all. But see, the problem is that when it comes to dating, expectations run so fucking high, that when it comes to the actual date, disappointment sets in and everything you had hoped for in this one magical moment, goes to complete and utter donkey shit. But why? Because people have scenarios and ideas set in their heads before the date ever even happens. From the moment you decide "yeah, I'll go out with you," it's a game of Russian Roulette.

That's why today, I'm here to give some rules. Rules on dating and how to be good at it, if you give it a chance and stop being a little bitch about it. Because trust me, you're life isn't as bad as you think it is when it comes to meeting people. That shit is just in your fucking head. Ya heard?!

So grab some paper and a pen because you're gon' learn today!!!!

Rule #1: Put your money where your mouth is. Or where you want someone to put their mouth on you.

If you are trying to find the next person to be your significant other, you might want to spend a little cash for that ass. No, I don't mean buy a fucking Thai Lady Boi. If you are using one of the free dating websites/apps like Tinder, Grinder, or what-the-fuck-ever, where it's just a swipe to the left, or a swipe to the right, then you put your hands on your hips, and you bring your knees in tight, your love life will probably be as fucked up as the Rocky Horror Picture Show. And more likely than not, your date is going to look like Tim Curry in fucking drag…and this is regardless if you are a girl, guy or gay/lesbo.

If you want to be a person of substance, shell out the $60 or so and let that old ass dude from E-Harmony get your goddamn love life on point. However, if you are just looking to have some dude stick his wang in your thang, then grind away. But don't be posting all your sad sack shit about how you met some douchebag heifer on Tinder and that dickhead stole your wallet, smashed three of your homegirls, and now you are saying he has a kid on the way. If you're trying to find a dude to wine, dine, and 69 you with his finger in your butt off these free dating apps, just know he probably lives in his moms basement, playing SKYRIM all night and watches Thai Lady Boi porn. BA-LEED-DAT. However, if any of you motherfuckers met your other half on one of these free dating sites and have a success story to tell that does not involve a round of antibiotics, I am all ears.

Spend a little dime so you don't end up with some motherfucker who will send your ass to the doctor the next day to get that "one thing" checked out.


Rule #2: Don't be too picky.
"Wait, what, J?!" That's right, you heard me.

People these days want the cream of the crop. But let's be real for a second…that shit ain't gonna happen. That's like winning the lottery three times in a fucking row.

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!

Trust me, I'm all for finding that one person who is your dream weaver. But you know what? This ain't a fucking fairy tale and ain't no motherfucker coming back from the Renaissance era to sweep you off your fucking feet.

Instead of saying, "this is EXACTLY what I want," you need to set some simple fucking standards. Because let's be honest, a majority of people, especially some of you ladies, like to think this is a Build-A-Bear fucking workshop, and you can just add whatever the fuck you want to make someone be to your liking. It is 2015 and that shit is NOT gonna happen.

Standards are key because it's what you want within reason and it doesn't make you look like a fucking cunt or asshole when it comes to narrowing shit down when trying to score a date.

I get it, some people only like to eat pepperoni pizza and are afraid to go outside their comfort zone. Hence, PEPPERONI FOR LIFE, BITCH! Well guess what? This isn't a fucking pizza so sack the fuck up and keep it simple by setting standards and break outside of that mold, son.

Do they have a job? Do they have life goals? Any hobbies? Love animals? Can they carry on a conversation? Do they text and respond in complete sentences. See, shit like that.

Too many people get so specific and need to realize that shit doesn't work. Are you an archeologist, motherfucker? Because you trying to find something so specific is like trying to find a goddamn dinosaur fossil. This ain't Jurassic fucking Park so chill the fuck out.


Rule #3: Set NO EXPECTATIONS.
FACT: The best shit in life always happens when you don't have a plan.

Of course you have to decide where you are meeting or what the general plan is...dinner, drinks, strip club, etc. BUT...don't have a preconceived fucking idea in your head of how the whole night is going to pan out. If you plan every goddamn detail out in your head like, "So he will open every door for me, pay for everything, not look at ANYONE else, think all my jokes are funny, and think I'm the perfect match" you are likely to be disappointed and go home masturbating, using your tears as lube.  Just let things happen and go with the flow.

Don't get it twisted, some people don't know how to operate on a fucking whim so what you have to do is focus on the moment, the shit that is happening around you and the person in front of you.

More times than not, I have heard stories of people who end up dating the person they didn't even think they'd be in to. Why? Because shit just fucking happened. Whether it be a night out saying, "Fuck it, let's drink" or talking for hours on end about random bullshit, when you don't have a plan and choose not to go by the script you detail out in your head, things potentially play in your favor.

I mean, how do you think I've gotten laid so many times in my life? Not by planning. But by letting shit happen. And alcohol…lots and lots of alcohol and broken promises.

Next...


Rule #4: Put the goddamn phone down.
The next time I'm on a date with a broad I meet on snatch.com and she picks up the goddamn phone to check Kim Kardashian's IG, she's gonna be real fucking sorry. Why the fuck can't we have a real conversation with someone anymore? Instead of getting to actually know a person, we get to know their Facefuck profiles and random life through Instacrack. Take the time to get to know a motherfucker in real life, in public (less chances of getting stabbed, too, HOLLA), and see what they are like outside of the Facefuck-IG-Twatter madness.

Is this person only funny and seem quasi-normal behind a screen, or does that shit translate to reality? If a person can only make you laugh or show you their "true" self when they are protected by the almighty app, then you need to tell them to kick that iPhone or whatever Razr sidekick they are trying to bring back from the dead. OR, if someone is a Facephony, then you will see that shit when you are out in public and their pre-paid Green Dot card gets declined, but they got pics of hot rods and hot hoes on their shit.

If at any time someone constantly reaches for their phone when on a date, guess what? You know the only date and or relationship this person has is with their fucking phone. Trust me, I fucking get it. Phones these days are fucking addicting as fuck. But if you're on a goddamn date, let alone a first date, keep that shit at home, in the car or it might be up your fucking ass.


Rule #5: Be yourself.
We are all fucking human and everyone is entitled to be themselves. Just like you should be your authentic self, your date should be, too. Remember that you get what you put out in the universe. If you portray a fake version of yourself, your date probably will too, and that shit doesn't work well for anybody. If you are independent and have your shit together, show that shit. Guys or ladies who are worth your time won't be threatened by it. If your date shows you that they are a shit storm of drama waiting to happen, don't ignore it. Most people will try to show their best side on a first date. Being a hot mess on the first outing is a sure sign that things will only go downhill from there. People tend to think that pretending to be someone else is the best thing to do so they can catch, "The One". Or...they think they can change someone into what they want. You know what I gots to say about that?

FUCK THAT SHIT!!!

Don't waste your energy on stuff like that cause people almost always remain true to who they are even if they change for a short time.

Like Facefuck, Instacrack or even motherfucking MySpace, a majority of people are probably 50% of who they perceive to be on the first date. Don't be that motherfucker. Be YOU. Do YOU. Because you is YOU. None of that shit made any fucking sense, but whatever.

Nothing should ever change when you go on these dates. And don't give me that, "I'm just really shy around people." Motherfucker, I bet you won't be shy when you're getting pounded by the dick after he buys you that chocolate lava cake you've been eyeing all night, huh? That's what I thought.

Be yourself because honestly, that goes a long way. Even if he's killing your vibe. Shit, even if you're killing his. Don't let one date, especially if it's bad, be the end all, be all. You feeling me?


There are more rules of dating but since you're just getting back in the game, this is the perfect starting point. These rules will be your guide to finding what the fuck you really want and might surprise you along the way.

Good luck. Find a man. And be fucking happy.

You're Welcome,

J-Wunder

Ah, Dating Profiles

Caller I.D.

Advice Column: When to hit it so he don't quit it

So here's the deal. I'm a single mom of one. I own my own house, I have my own car, I have a great job and am university educated. I am 29, blonde and average size. I meet lots of guys, and I always think things are going great, we hit it off, we have some drinks, and then I end up gettin' it in, and NEVER hearing from them again. Is it cause I put out too quickly? Do guys not see relationship material with one night stands? I dton't think I am boreing or annoying, the conversations always keep rolling, I laugh at their jokes, and they laugh at mine. Is it intimidating to date a chick who has her own shit? What am I doing wrong? I don't obsessively text/call, I don't face stalk... ok yea I do, but they don't know that... I'm not asking them to marry me or asking them how many kids we should have and what their names should be, my guy friends tell me I'm a cool chick and I have lots of friends that are girls, I think I'm a likable person... The only thing I can chalk it down to is wanting to get it in. What do ya think?

-Still Single


Dear SS,

It seems like you already answered your own romantical query, but you came to us for answers and answers you shall have.

When to get all aboard the pound town express is an age old dilemma. Once people figured out ‘how’ to have sex they immediately figured out how to fuck with someone’s brain when it comes to ‘when’ to have sex. Too soon? You’s a hoe! Not soon enough? You are as frigid as the iceberg that bested the Titanic, minus the awesome Celine Dion theme song.

It is also a question that in some form or another has been posed to the crew. I actually answered a similar query awhile back (House On Whore Island) where someone wanted to know when it was ok to ride the baloney pony. I think I have made it more than clear that my personal belief is that when two consenting adults want to rock each other’s bodies, they should rock the fuck out of each other’s bodies. Whether you just met, have known each other for years or what the fuck ever your situation is, if you are feeling froggy, hippity-hop, mother fucker.

You, however, are talking about dating, emotions and all the magical shit that comes before or after the sexy-time, depending on so many variables. The thing about variables is that I failed Algebra in high school, so if I tried to make a math joke here I would probably just fuck it up. But, there ARE so many variables when it comes to affairs of the heart, and not just the part of a part that spreads apart. People may call me a hypocrite for what I am about to say, but shut your face-hole before you start polluting my air with stupid and pay attention to the words that are coming off your screen.

Yes, I firmly, whole-heartedly, 153 million percent believe that if you are DTF, get it. Get it from the back, from the front, in an upside-down 69, with someone watching, in a car, in a house, on an air-mattress covered in baby oil, however, wherever and whatever the fuck you like to do to someone(s), do it. Don’t hold back, act like this is the last piece of _____ left on the planet, and it is all yours.

When you wake up in the morning, tuck you panties in your purse and moonwalk the fuck out of there. Don’t leave your number and don’t expect a phone call. Sounds like a shit thing to say and hear out loud, but that is the truth. While I do know several people who fucked on the first date then sent out wedding invitations a few years later and even a few men-friends of mine who said they would totally date a chick who’s back they blew out 5 hours after meeting her, that is not usually the norm. If I knew the answer to why it is like this I would not be sitting here writing advice columns, but rather sitting on my hammock on my boat in Bora Bora and polishing my Nobel Prize in Sociology...and writing advice columns.

You could be the baddest chick in town, who is awesome at being awesome but if you give it up too soon, you are probably not going to be baddest chick in town, with a boyfriend. You seem like someone who is looking for more, and who is doing their part not to perpetuate crazy by being that girl. We all know a girl who is that girl, too. The one that goes on a date with a guy, then goes all fatal attraction on him. The minute she meets the guy she wants to meet his mom, calls 76 times the next day and texts twice as much. She shows up at his house unexpectedly, stalks him on the web, in real life, and is one more act of fuckery away from having a dude file a restraining order against her. Don’t be that girl, and if you are quit that shit.

Since you don’t seem to be that girl, the next time you are out with someone you like a lot and things are going well, DON’T sleep with him. I don’t care if the man tells you he loves to eat pussy and can breathe through his ears. Don’t do it. Go out with him, get to know him better. Only go to very well lit, crowded places. Fuck, go to a play-ground at 3 pm on a Saturday. Whatever you have to do to NOT want to have sex with him, do it.

I know this seems simple in theory, but much like the orgasm you are going to have if you make each other wait, I am building to something here. In this day and age, with society being so go-go-go, a lot of the simpler things have been over looked and one of them is courting someone when you are dating. I will open hand slap the first person who calls me old-fashioned, too, for saying that. But there is something that may be better than the sex you have on the first date. It’s the sex you have on the 5 or 6th date that is going to be mind blowingly good, because of a little thing called anticipation.

Stop looking at your screen, all slack-jawed like I just told you to wait for marriage and that it doesn’t count if you do it in the butt. I am being fucking serious here. Well, not really serious, this Inside the Mind of A Ghetto Genius, for fucks sake, but I am being as serious as I can be when I am trying to tell someone to wait to have sex. I PROMISE you that by the time you two are ready to bone down, it’s going fucking down. I promise you are going to do things that will make a goat throw up. And everyone who reads my advice columns know I back my promises with a guarantee - I, H-Bomb, being on unsound mind and body built for sin, promise that if you both wait until after the first few dates to have sex you are going to literally blow each other away. If you don’t, I promise to come fuck you two fuck-tards until you cum, proper.

Here's the other big secret I have been holding out, until now. The beauty of making each other wait, is that in time you weren’t having sex, you were getting to know someone and building a relationship. If you keep someone wanting more, they are going to keep coming back.

If this advice works, I want an invite to the wedding. Or, if it doesn’t and you meet some guy and bang on the first date and get married, I want an invite as well. I am awesome at weddings.

H-Bomb

Lets get to know one another...

Advice Column: Hot Gamer Chicks Need Love Too

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Simple Mathematics

Stinky, Smelly, Stunk...Still Stinks

It’s the worst thing you could ever have upon meeting someone. No, not erectile dysfunctional. And no, not your period. I’m talking about bad breath. Seems like no big deal, right? Wrong mother fuckers. Straight up, wrong.

There is no worse turn off then meeting a cute guy/gal and have it all fucking ruined because it smells like a goddamn German Sheppard took a shit in their mouth. Realize that breath, looks and nice teeth are the first things the opposite sex looks for. And if you think nice teeth and looks will outweigh bad breath, you are sadly mother fucking mistaken. Here’s why…

If you’re not the greatest looking person in the world, but good enough to talk to a hot looking guy/girl, your personality can get you the homerun you’ve been looking for. Make a mother fucker laugh, you’re in it, to win it. Check. If your teeth aren’t the greatest, but you're fine as fuck (sans smiling and shit) well, you have your looks...it might be a good fucking idea to get braces or invisi-line, so people don’t think you’re the first human that can open cans with your fucking mouth. Double check. If you’re good looking, got a nice set of pearly whites but have breath that mimics that of a decomposed body, gum ain’t gonna hide that shit. Are you fucking kidding me? Bottom line – YOU’RE FUCKED.

If you floss, brush, and gargle mouthwash/peroxide/rubbing alcohol DAILY, but your mouth still smells like sweaty ass feet and gouda cheese, you got fucking issues that you need to take care of ASAP. I don’t give a shit if you try to tell me you have acid reflux or some type of disease in your goddamn intestines and you’re taking medication for it. I’ve met people with some fucked up problems along those lines and you know what? Their breath didn’t smell like a port-a-potty. When they talked 6 inches from my faces, my nose hairs didn’t singe off. I didn’t feel the need to throw up in their face because it felt like a thousand pound walrus took a fat ass dump on my face. Bad breath can’t be hidden. There is no “back-up” to this problem.

I would rather be ugly and pull some bitches being funny, then have funky ass breath, chew a pack of gum, and still have funky ass breath. Your breath is soooo fucking bad that when gum enters your mouth, the flavors run away mother fucker. That’s how bad it is. So just know, that the Extra gum that was wintergreen flavor, has now turned into mother fucking cardboard. That Wintergreen flavor left the mother fucking wrapper way before it entered your goddamn mouth.

What I don’t get is how people with bad ass breath don’t notice they have horrible, shit kicking breath? You can’t tell me for one fucking second that when you’re breathing through your nose and out your mouth, you can’t smell that fucked up fragrance you like to call “fresh breath”? STOP THAT SHIT. You know you got funky ass breath…you know how I know? Because you look like you’re gonna pass the fuck out every time you breathe mother fucker. Eyes all rolling to the back of your head like a goddamn zombie. For fuck's sake, get that problem fixed. Please.

It's obvious, the dentist isn’t helping. And the doctor is prescribing you to take some pills. That’s two fucking strikes. It’s like your bad breath is the equivalent to herpes. It’s the gift you’re gonna have forever, that no one wants to encounter. So I guess there is no cure. However, I might have a solution...

1) Meet mother fuckers online (E-Harmony, Date-a-bitch, Facebook, etc.). And when you meet them, you better pray to fucking God they like you for who the fuck you are.

2) Talk to them from 5 feet away. I was going to say an "arms length" but lets be real...your fucking breath is toxic as a mother fucker. Last thing you need is someone to pass the fuck out and you gotta call 9-1-1.

3) Start conversations at the end of the night when someone is really fucking waaaaaassssted. They won't flinch from your bad ass breath because at a certain point, mother fuckers go numb. Lets be honest, you can't pull off talking to someone who's sober anywhere.

3 solutions that are fucked up, but hey, very doable.

Bad breath...the most overlooked trait that will make or break any first encounter. You know what's funny? As a majority of your are reading this, you're cupping your hand and checking to see if your shit smells like a fucking carcass.

You're welcome.