An anonymous comment left on my last post:
Anonymous: “So you went to a crowded bar on a Friday evening and were put off by a guy offering a drink? Oh Dumb Domme, please don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who “reads” by the bar :-)”
My Possible Response #1:
Of course I was “put off.” The nerve of that guy! I was so offended and disgusted that I screamed “No! I will not have sex with you! You fucking pig!” And then I called the police to report the assault.
My Possible Response #2:
I didn’t want to admit it, but my reading was just a clever ploy to get men to come up and talk to me. That’s why I went to Crazy Eddie’s Bar during wet t-shirt happy hour. After the guy asked about the smudge on my forehead, I was so turned on that I offered to blow him in the bathroom.
My Possible Response #3: (reality)
I didn’t say I went to a crowded bar. I went to a restaurant that had a bar. And it wasn’t crowded–the dinner rush hadn’t even started yet.
I did say I was reading, so yes, I’m one of “those girls” who drinks AND reads. I was reading a paper, entertaining myself just like other people around me–one person was reading a magazine, another was playing with an iPhone, and a few people were watching television.
I didn’t say I was “put off” (although I wasn’t “put on,” if there is such a thing). The reality is that I was amused by the conversation, came home, and wrote it down. Fuck. I guess that makes me one of those girls who drinks, reads, AND writes.