The Wine, Dine, and 69 Method

Why has “dating” become obsolete in a society where sex is ubiquitous?

The wine, done & 69 method: why has dating become obsolete in a society where sex is ubiquitous by the bitter bitch Melanie long

I saw a meme the other day. This woman went out with a 69 year old man who said “he wasn’t looking for anything serious”. That was it. That’s all. No punchline necessary. Why is that funny? Because that man is one elevated heart rate away from the grave and still terrified a woman is going to want a relationship.

I had a customer the other day that had to be at least 70 doggedly shaking me down for my phone number. I literally said “I’m not interested” three times in succession before he extended his slimy, wrinkled tongue and wagged it at me. As if sitting on an elderly man’s face would be the highlight of my week.

I gave a good player my phone number recently so that he could find out when I’m working in his neighborhood, a fairly standard practice among gaming bartenders. The next night he asked when I was off, followed with “U cuming over after” [sic], because after a ten hour shift of sweating and smiling, laughing at jokes that are not funny, saying thank you instead of fuck you at every turn, without a break, rest, or morsel of food, laminated in waterproof makeup, I’d want to drive to a stranger’s house and fuck him when all I know is his name is Brian and his fingernails are dirty. You know what Brian? Drop a pin because I’m on the way!

What happened to the good ol’ days when men courted you, pretended to like you, and then used you for sex.

But after all the daily atrocities of just existing as a woman, one man finally broke me. I recently made friends with another bartender. We text often, and he seems cool. He’s made a few comments that suggested he’s interested but nothing further. We’ve never hung out outside of work so it’s all jokes and haha. This has been going on for months. Then one night he sent me dick pics. Not just one or two but a portfolio of them, including a video, like this was a casting call and he wanted to use his best headshot to jazz up his resume. It was a nice looking penis, decent in size and symmetry. If it was a beauty pageant, he would’ve gotten a sash. I decided to be honest and I told him I just wasn’t sure if I liked him or not. To which he responded, in multiple successive texts:

“I honestly don’t think I’m for you in the long run though”

“I have a son…”

“I’m just trying to say I’m not looking for a step mom.”

“I just want to enjoy my time off from parenting.”

Huh. I mean, I was already clearing out space in my closet. I just don’t understand. Doesn’t a picture of your erect penis say I’m looking for a long term committed relationship? Oh how I must’ve misread the signs.

Maybe my logic is a little fucked up. I think there’s nothing wrong with being moderately interested in someone you’re planning on having sex with. So when I say I don’t know if I’m interested, I’m really saying I don’t think I want to fuck you. If there was interest, sure, a good profile pic might change my mind, but if it was never there, then it was never there. A big dick doesn’t make up for sexual attraction or chemistry. It most certainly doesn’t mean that a good dick shot has me falling in love, making plans for a future, and applying to the PTA. But what’s most offensive is that he deemed it necessary to send those pics with a caution warning: I’m down to fuck, but I don’t want to be your boyfriend, and you’re not going to play step-mommy.

Doesn’t a picture of your erect penis say I’m looking for a long term committed relationship?

I’m offended because men don’t have to try anymore. They don’t have to make a single fucking effort. They seem to think just having a penis is enough. Women need to be pretty, look nice, present well. Make sure you exfoliate and moisturize, shave, smell good. Wear false eyelashes, pluck your eyebrows, pile on the makeup but make it look like you’re not really wearing any. Spend an hour blowing your hair and then curling it. Have big tits and a fat ass but make sure your waist is so tiny that if you bump into anything, you might break your back in half. Smile, even when nothing is funny. Be approachable. Don’t speak too loudly, be vulgar, or really have an opinion about anything because you might offend some man’s delicate ego. Tell them how big their dick is, how right they always are, and how you need them. Above all, DON’T BE BITTER. All so you can be wanted and desired by some fucking guy with a dick. He didn’t have to earn that dick, work for it, maintain it. Take it to get waxed, tanned, or tended to in any way. They just walk around with it all fucking day until its time to take a photo in wide angle lens, send it to some desperate bitch, and wait for her to come running.

What happened to the good ol’ days when men courted you, pretended to like you, and then used you for sex. They acted like they had real interest. They asked you out and had to sit through at least a one hour dinner engagement, listening to you drone on and on about what-the-fuck-ever it is that you find interesting. Par for the course. They hold your hand, they pull out your chair, they walk you to the door and then, in a moment of real bravery, they make a move. They put themselves on the line, to be vulnerable for a split second, to be either entertained or denied. This is when the female decides, solely on the gentleman’s execution of the evening, whether or not she’s going to give him some pussy. That is a crucial and quintessential moment of power for a female. The next day it’s back in his court, and he gets to play God with her emotions, thinking it was some big fucking conquest, and faking his own death to avoid seeing her again. But it’s a delicate dance, a give and take of power, expectation, and reality. And it has worked just fine since the inception of time. There’s something wrong with this new culture of men thinking that their dick is the prize.

Just because a woman wants a relationship does not mean she wants it with you.

Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying here. I love a good dick pic. I collect them like trophies. I save them and then pass them around like Pokemon cards to awe at the big ones, to laugh at the little ones, to snicker at the hooded ones, etc. Just like every man on earth has 1,000+ nudes of a million different titties, sent to him via the bro group chat, locked away in a hidden file, backed up on the cloud. He’ll never delete them, no matter what. When we all die off like the dinosaurs and a completely different civilization brings about a new era of mankind on this planet, they’ll find a fossilized iPhone 5 in a tar bed in Rancho Cucamonga filled with nudes that belonged to a guy named Chad.

Dick pics are fun, but they are not the gold standard for pulling ass. Effort is sexy. Consistency is sexy. Interest is sexy. Sending random dick pics and wagging your tongue at random women is not sexy. Get back to the basics, take a bitch out to eat occasionally, act like a gentleman, and I guarantee a 85% success rate with the Wine, Dine, and 69 Method. And remember - just because a woman wants a relationship does not mean she wants it with you. Just like a woman saying she wants to have sex DOES NOT MEAN she wants to have sex WITH YOU. Let that one marinate.

XOXO, The Bitter Bitch

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