paging reverend redflag mcfuckface... please come to the front desk

another misconception is that i want you to pay my way for some crazy fancy-ass date. let's get something straight right now: i'm no gold digger. sometimes i show up with gifts for them, but i've never gotten anything from anyone* so how's that work again?

1. i don’t. no one shows up to date and enjoy my company, they show up to fuck. they spend as little money as possible. 

2, how awkward would it be to order the lobster while disappointingly shattering your entire world with my irl mediocrity cuz i’m better in your head (and also, not nearly as good. people think i’m a prude but real ones know!) in fact i usually show up early with my own coffee and snacks already purchased so the presh is off. i’m easy. i’m cool. i’m not wearing makeup, but i just showered. my clothes might be shabby but they’re clean. i’m getting comfy. sit down, let’s talk. but beware, I’m judging you too. and youre uglier than you think.

even though they fetishize me, their biases still otherize me and thus feel like i should (a) be like porn and die for their boring (and let's face it, prob white) dick, or (b) be so grateful to have your slam-pig attention that i would again die for the boring prob-white dick. (no guy of any hue wants to spend a dollar on me, but the attention thing is 90% ytmane issue.)

but since i have a closet full of dildies, a lot of creativity, a comfy bed, a big tv, a fancy lionhead rabbit who hates everyone but my tiny entourage of fabulous gays and my cool-ass old people friends … i got all the validation i need. and the dildies have a one year warranty. what's yours, 15 mins max?

i'm not just serving body, i'm serving frussy realness. that's fran pussy for the uninitiated, and honey, it's a national treasure. my friends know what's up - they're always there with the tea, the mutual validation, and zero expectations of getting in my pants.

so that really means the other half is like…. well some of them are awful. but some are great and ghost me anyway. it's like playing russian roulette with your heart, right? you never know if you're gonna get mr. right or like... redflag mcfuckface.

*there were nearly no exceptions, the few times being mainly when my friend danny devito brought oreos and diet coke to our beach dates. he also complained that he bought me the "name brand" soda, legitimately whinging at me that little thing when i did way more than my fair share and then some. assclown.