Get Random With Jessica #GRWJ (rant): I showed you my underfluffies please respond

So – it’s January 2021 and I’m reading back over this and gosh… I sure was angry.

I wrote this 3 years ago.

I’m not going to delete it thought because it still happened, still happens sometimes, and I just wish some men would stop.

No, I do not feel all men are like this.

Yes, there are some wonderful men out there.

But the men that do this kind of thing… the men that have this kind of mentality, they are the lowest of trash.


“You’re single? You’ve got that great body, though. What a shame.”

“You’re still young. You should be getting out there and having fun. You’re in great shape.”

“I can’t believe you’re not with anyone… I mean…. *ogles ogles ogles*”

“It’s a crime you’re single. What a waste.”

I had no idea my body was such a weapon of mass erection. Apparently me being single should be against the law. Apparently the fact that I value a good deal of my time alone isn’t acceptable because according to you I’m attractive and I should be getting out there and having fun. Apparently, the fact that I’m in “great shape” means I should be – to be blunt – getting fucked.

Apparently, these men have just what I need in order to be fulfilled. Or really… just filled, in full, by a man of course. Fill all the holes! Fill them up full with your insolent bro juice furiously pumped and casually spurted into my wanton womanly folds of begging flesh oh god oh god please please please just fucking stop. I hate you.

Let me tell you something, I do not jiggle for you. I do not sashay, saunter, dance or prance for you. I do not exercise for you. I do not wish to look and feel my best for you. Do I like the attention? Sure. Do I crave the attention? Sometimes. Do I need the attention? No, I do not.

All of it bothers me, but the thing that bothers me most is suggesting that any part of me is wasted because I’m not allowing some man to enjoy what is clearly something maintained for his enjoyment alone. I’m not allowing him to run his hands all over me; I’m not opening myself wide like the grand-pussy-ass-canyon so he can show me what it’s like to really enjoy life, have some fun, and/or not commit the crime of being single. Therefore, I am a waste.

Just because I’m single doesn’t mean any part of me is a waste. Louder for the entitled bangbros in the back…


I work out to feel strong mentally and physically, you insolent cad.  I don’t work out to get fucked.

…and I really, truly don’t need you to feel sorry for me. Trust me here… I’m good with my choices. The look of pity in your eyes as you take in every inch of my figure, fantasizing about how much you could change my mind with how hard you can make me cum with your mad oral skills sends me into a rage. You give a pouty look with a “damn… you haven’t had sex in how long?” Hold UP, motherfucker…. s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y. – is there some kind of vagina clock that I’m not aware of, where if I don’t fuck a man within x amount of hours/days/weeks/years I’ll turn into an anime body pillow? No, seriously. I’m for-fucking-real asking here. What part of me is wasted by *not* having a man drop his load (“load” being anything from boy spunk to entitled opinions) into the body I work so hard to maintain and the mind I work so hard to protect, and vice-versa, you disgusting cretin. And honestly, at this point, I’d rather be an anime body pillow. They seem to get more respect.

I hate you. I loathe you. You are everything I protect myself from. Also, thank you. Thank you for inspiring me even more to care about myself and love myself so deeply that I’ll never want any part of you deeply inside of me. Thank you for inspiring me to continue to find my own strength inside of me. I have a power that your DJ jazzy jizz can never ever touch so spin that in your sad record player you fucking presumptuous cockbite.

Thank you for being you.

If I ever decide that my own happiness can only be complete with getting pounded by your male ego, it’s good to know there are some willing men out there just waiting for me to spread myself open and take it all in. Clearly I’m only a bunch of holes surrounded by a few other unimportant body parts, so thank goodness you’re here to save my pathetic existence of all of the things I value while being single; all the things I value while being alive.

I’ll just be over here… crying without you, begging for you, killing myself on the elliptical and eating broccoli every goddamned day (omfg I hate broccoli) in the hopes that someday, somewhere, some man like yourself will recognize my self-worth (since I do not) and fist me into pure submissive acceptance I’m out of sarcasm.