it’s because I’m a kind of person who does random sweet things for no reason.
To bake or not to bake. That is the question.
Allergy meds. These sniffles are easily taken care of by one pill, and a little forgetfulness has made me thankful for the beauty of medicine.
At least I hope this congestion is allergies… not another cold.
Dear “men” who go clubbing,
- Please ask if I’d like to dance. You’ll have a much higher chance being a proper gentleman than if you creepily sneak up behind me and start rubbing your junk on me.
- Do not hover. I see you in my periphery slowly getting closer and closer. Stop that.
- No means no. It doesn’t mean, “Let’s stand right next to her and see if she changes her mind!” or “I’ll ask her five more times throughout the course of the night; maybe she’ll think I’m a different guy!” or “Darn, she dodged my kiss. I’ll just try again and again and again until she gives in.” I don’t want any of that, thank you very much.
- Why is humping considered dancing? Why is holding both of my hands up in the air a thing? Why are your hands all over my body as though you’re blind and trying to figure out what I am? Why do you keep grabbing my hand?
- Girls’ night out. It’s a real thing. And, yes, it is a legitimate reason why we don’t want to dance with you. Don’t tell me, “Ew, that’s no fun! Why would you want to do that?” because it’s much much better than getting hit on by you and your douchey friends.
- Conversation is good. Whispering in my ear, “I want to have sex with you” is not. It’s absolutely disgusting. And there is no way to repair the damage by telling me you actually want to take me out on a date. Clearly you just want to get some.
- Never ever sandwich me. I do not welcome you pressing your entire body up against mine and trapping me in between you and your friend without any way to escape. I will punch you in the balls.
- Do not follow me. We are most likely trying to get away from you. Especially if we’ve already said “No, thank you.” Just walk away.
- And no fighting. No, really. Starting a fight is not attractive. “Do you know who I am???” is not something you should ever yell. Because, no, we don’t know who you are, and honestly, we don’t really care. We’re at a fucking club.
Christine & the all ladies who just want to have fun
being able to stay out until 4 in the morning, drink cheap champagne in a dark alleyway, get hit on by French men, and dance with trannies.