Since the conception of this blog, I never really saw myself speaking to a male audience (besides my dad, who loves me enough to sift through my estrogen induced meanderings). I’ve had a few comments from men that have thrown me a little (because I just can’t imagine what it is that interests them about my infertility journey; or my musings about facial hair, bad dates, and/or family drama), but I have been assured by a few male readers that they just think I’m funny and that’s why they keep coming back. You know what? I’ll take that. I’m all for being funny and amusing and witty! Thanks for the compliment!
But this week I got my first real creeper response, and at the goading of a girl I just adore, I decided this called for some sort of acknowledgement.
On a recent post about an anniversary I remembered to honor at the last minute of a memory I cherish from high school, I posted a picture of my 16 year old self. Apparently this was a mistake in judgment, as I received this comment that day:
nice...
and damn you were hot then... much like now, only tens years older...
kiss
Hmmmm. You do realize I was 16 in that picture, right dude? I’m pretty sure there might be some issues here that could require some sort of legal or therapeutic intervention, but I’m going to go ahead and leave that one up to you.
What I am going to do, is give you the “Creeper of The Week” award. With all these awards floating around in the blogging community, I figure I have the right to make my own up as I deem necessary. I am not creative enough to actually make a button for this award, so you will have to simply post the words in big bold letters across the top of your blog, thereby warning all women who might otherwise have been disturbed by your completely inappropriate comments on their own blogs, that this is just par for the course from you.
Now you, Sir Thomas AKA (Winters Reaper), are receiving this award mostly because that name is sufficiently creepy in and of itself, but also because you added an ‘s’ to ten and ‘kissed’ me through my blog (and really, I thank you for that – it truly makes up for the fact that I haven’t actually been kissed in a while).
So thank you Sir Thomas, for reminding me that there are creepers like you out there and I really should be more careful about what images I post of myself on the internet.
And, just for the record, being called “hot” isn’t really a compliment to me. I admit that I clean up OK, but most days (right now being a perfect example) I am pretty content in sweats with my hair piled up on top of my head and not an ounce of makeup to be detected. I haven’t shaved my legs (or my cootchie) in at least 3 weeks (which should make it infinitely clear to you how concerned I am with being being “hot”, and how disinterested I am in attracting a guy who wants to call me “hot” right now), and I have no real drive to rectify that situation at any point in the near future. And don't even get me started on the sweating that results from the Lupron induced hot flashes, or the blood shot eyes I have daily now caused by the fact that this drug has dried my entire body out (eyeballs included). I am a lot of things, but “hot” probably wasn’t the way you wanted to go with me. In fact, "hot" isn't even something I kind of aspire to be.
Now, I realize I open myself up to these kind of creepers by discussing something sexually oriented, but again – I never really expected to have male readers. I saw myself more as the Carrie Bradshaw of the infertility world, and figured my thoughts could be pretty safely directed to my female readers without having to worry about censoring myself to avoid inciting the more perverted sex. Was I wrong?
So, for those of you male readers out there with completely innocent intentions behind being here, please share. Tell me why you’re reading, and remind me that not all men are complete creeps. Tell me I’m witty, and funny, and insightful – but whatever you do, don’t tell me I’m hot.
If you can manage to convince me that you are here without any dubious thoughts in mind, I might just allow you to remain and will cease trying to find a way to make my blog private to only readers with XX chromosomes (I’m not sure exactly how this would work, but I like to think it would involve some sort of blood test taken directly from your laptop).
Male readers: You can commence trying to make up for the actions of this tool… NOW!
ADSPACE
