Dating is like pulling the slot machine
I only ever get duds.
I'm not even talking about handjobs,
it won't get that far.
The men either stammer compliments
or scornfully look down their noses,
and that's if they bother to listen.

Sex is another lever entirely.
I pick guys full of false swagger
who only ever look past my tits
to appreciate the ornamentation
                   that will accent my blowjob,
and make no mistake,
             I give great ornamentation.

My eyes do their best to smolder
while I'm running my lips over their length.
I want him to give in to the pleasure
so that they are totally hard
when they're driving into me.
I want him to know our fuck
is fulfilling a deep fantasy
as he grunts with complete abandon
until I'm getting used up by his
                                             degrading lust.

It makes for a satisfying orgasm
but the aftertalk couldn't be worse.

These are the kind of guys
who seem only capable of one thing,
being used for a quick lay
because nothing else is potent in his brain.
I don't want to stay with the men
who I take to my bed.
Most of them are filth.

Their world view,
their life experience,
their gamer achievements
                               are all shit.
I wouldn't ever stay with them
and that's why I use them,
they're not the kind of guy
           I'm gonna feel guilty about.
After I leave his place,
           I will never see him again.

It's the dates that wear me down.

The "you look great"
and questions about the gym.
I'd happily talk of exes
if it got him to go off script.
Each date feels like an inferior copy
of a dinner I had last year,
                               or was it three years ago?

There is no way to know what quality
makes that smile in front of me
worth trying on his tread for a mile.
Last time,

I let one a these wet fish
try to finger me
and he was too uncertain
to get past my thighs.
Too proper to be a heart-stopper.

Nervous or aggro,
anxious or extreme.
Love can't be this fucking tricky!
I have friends with shared pensions
and they made it work,

except for those who didn't.

Those who were left behind
with the apartment
and the debt
and they can't even
contemplate regret.
They're not asking me, if I've found the one yet.
They're just happy to have a friend to share
their lonely wept litany,
the ode to a woman's ever-brittling flower: 

gather nigh my future biddies
hear my song of heart-wrench
men want me to fuck for pity
or lose spirit after he's spent

I'm tired of choosing lonely or the rabbit.
Break the habit,
        stop the roulette
           wheel of dating apps.
I'd rather have honest than safe,
               vulnerable over bluster.
At this point I'm gonna muster up
the courage to ask out who I want.
Fuck those limp dicks
if they got a problem with that.
A real man oughta know a good thing

when he sees me.
He better fight for me too,
cuz I'm not falling easy.