Given my breathless daydreams about Trent, maybe my mom’s right. Maybe it’s time I got some action. After all, I’m definitely thirsting for it and what good will it do me to stick to reading romance novels and fantasizing about the new neighbor who will never notice me? I’m don’t want to be a pathetic loser.
Yet, I know myself too well to know that going to a party, meeting a guy and hooking up with him won’t work for me either. It’s just not my thing, and after having been such a wallflower through all of high school, it will draw way more attention than I’m comfortable. And even if I did go to some wild high school party, there’s still the issue with not being attracted to scrawny high school boys. No. If I’m going to find a big, strong, hung guy worthy of the word man, I’m going to have to go another route: online dating. I’m a shy, curvy virgin who wants a real man. There are apps for this stuff! Right? God, I hope so.
But hope springs anew, and suddenly excited, I sit down at my laptop and start searching for a good matchmaking site. I don’t want the kind of dating app you can just swipe left or right on. It’s been done to death. There must be new ones out there, for people like me who are a little less experienced with this sort of thing. For people who want to build an avatar and get to know someone a little before they meet up. Not just a hook-up app. Aha… what’s this? ChatWorld. Hmm, could this be the one?
Honestly, I’m not sure what to think because it’s not like I have a ton of experience with dating apps. But this one seems decent at least. There are three million members, and the male profiles I glance through seem legit. I heard that sometimes these apps create fake profiles to entice new users, but when you communicate with these so-called “people,” they never write back because they’re just clickbait. I don’t want to fall for that one.
But ChatWorld seems okay. The people are attractive, but not so attractive that I think they’re fake. Plus, there seems to be a good ratio of men to women. Sites that have way more dudes than women are a bad idea because the females get inundated with desperate come-ons. Uck, not what I want.
So slowly, I start filling out a profile. What to call myself? I could easily go with something like JaneJane or JanieBanie, but that seems too close to home. So instead, I go with HeartLove. So lame! But whatever. It’s not like this is real.
Next, I have to fill in my details and my heart sinks. Body type? Should I select curvy? I cup my huge tits with my small hands, watching them overspill onto my wrists. Are these the tits of a curvy girl or a “big” girl? And what about my ass? I don’t want to mislead anyone, after all. I cringe as I image a man expecting someone who looks like Kim Kardashian, and instead getting me, all creamy flesh and rolls. So intent on being honest, I look for the “big” option in the drop-down menu, but it’s not available. Curvy, it is, then.
I scroll through some of the selfies on my phone to find a profile picture, but with a pang I realize I’m not comfortable putting my face, or body, for that matter, out there for the masses to see. Putting pictures up on social media is one thing, but on a dating app? A shiver runs down my spine. Instead, I focus on the next part: my interests. Hmm, that’s easy: cooking, baking, and trying out new foods. And then comes the part that’s actually interesting: what I’m looking for in a man.
For kicks, I type into the box exactly what I want, as crudely as I can. “A big strong guy with a big thick cock who knows what to do with it. I want it to really hurt when I finally lose my virginity.” I giggle to myself again as I hurriedly hold down the delete key, feeling my face burn up. Instead, I write: “Curvy brunette virgin seeks strong guy to show her the ways of passion.” But rolling my eyes, I delete that too. I don’t want anyone to know I’m a virgin. Nor how corny I can be. So I try again, and keep it to: “Curvy, shy brunette seeking strong man to show her ways of love and pleasure.” That’s better. Classy, right?
Having created my profile, I decide to start browsing the data base for guys, my heart pounding in excitement. In the filter drop-down box, I select “tall,” “muscular,” “tattoos,” “dark hair,” and when the results come up, I realize I’ve been describing Trent. But none of the results of the search have come up with guys even close to the magnificence that is my next door neighbor. I close my eyes and imagine his muscular body on mine, the way my tits would crush against his chest as he entered me, his eyes looking into my soul. I wonder what color his eyes are?