When I grow up, all I want to be is not “hot”

Ola, amigos! As a girl living in the 21st century, no as a single girl living in the 21st century, people are always cautioning you about guys who only want to use you for your body and nothing more, and unfortunately this is a truth that every vagina wielding person must face sometime in their lifetime.

This happens to me more often than not, before you say “Oh, what a little Naomi Campbell you are…”, having men only want for your body, is not as appealing as usher Raymond makes it seem.

Boys/Men/The part of the human population who have an after-thought of a sexual organ protruding through those poorly tailored pants, can be thirsty AF. Yes, that is a massive generalization and will remain one until I meet someone/something who proves all my theories inconclusive. In a world where instant gratification is paramount and a growing population of Fuckboys, my theories are going to remain conclusive for a while.

Their play, is now as predictable as Jose Mourinho’s favored 4-3-3, It always starts with him calling you hot, followed by incessant texting and fawning over every skin-revealing-tight-dress-wearing instagram post and when he realizes that your panties are never touching the ground, it’s SILENCE, the silence that NASA gets from Mars!

Being called hot has the potential to have you feeling like Kim Kardashian after she breaks the internet but for me, being called hot, is a tell-tale sign that all he wants is to rip off my panties/thongs or g-strings and gentrify my gonads. I say gentrify, cause immediately after he enters and leaves me, I probably will feel as valuable as a 2-bedroom flat in Inglewood and a couple months or even years after a lot construction on my self-image, the value of my self-worth has quantified.

The feminist in me, wants to believe that if a guy treats you like a disposable pleasure rather than a meaningful pursuit, than you start treating guys similarly. And I am aware that there are girls/women who are down for the sex-only relationships, sometimes I try to convince myself that I can be one of those girls, but the cold hard truth is I’m not and a lifetime of idolising Paul Scholes tells me that I should be content with who I am and what I offer to the world around me.So, the nice girl, that I have been for the last 24 years has me to believing, that there is no way my conception came about just to satisfy some emotionally disconnected gits, wants.

I think of them as the Poonanibal Lectres of the world, cause remember all Hannibal wanted from his victims were their bodies, and all they want is the poonani, they could care less if you discovered water on mars. All they looking for is p-bomb on the v-bomb. Hence, the moniker #PoonanibalLectre.

Now let me drop some unsolicited truths, you know how guys never want to go from zero to relationship similarly some girls or at least this girl doesn’t want to go from zero to fuckgirl.


I won’t admit to being a prude, cause with my mouth and all my thoughts about Rio Ferdinand, I know it can’t be true, but listen if you said to me “Uhm look I only starting talking to you cause I wanted to butter your muffin, but if that’s not going to happen there’s no reason to continue this conversation” I would respect that, might even convince the Nobel Commitee to create an award for you but the whole ignore her, she’ll forget game is played out, immature, mean and selfish AF! Obviously, I’m not 5 so I’m not going to assume every guy who utters 3 syllables to me is my future husband. Some of us, are cool with the transparency. And your honesty won’t kill me, cause once the brakes failed on my dads corolla and I survived…

So again being nice and honest never killed anyone besides that sexy Israeli guy who was born on 25 December. And not one person is going to assume that you are him, because your beard sucks and you can’t rock the long hair and sandals for shit.

Anyways, love you,bye😘


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