OMG hun people are ridiculously horrible to me on anon. Everyday at least a third of my inbox is full of cruel messages criticizing my body, half-brained moralistic rants judging my decision to have a sex-related blog, and terrifying misogynistic slander calling me a slut, whore, bitch, cunt, etc., for daring to be a sexually open and expressive woman.
With anon on, I genuinely feel less comfortable sharing aspects of my personal life or even freely expressing my personality. Forget the fact that I have a decent vocabulary because I’m a lifelong bookworm — if I use one so-called “big-word” I get ten messages accusing me of being a conceited bitch and looking up words to sound smart. If I share a naughty story from my past, I get another ten messages telling me I should kill myself for being such a whore!
The problem with anon is simply this: there are no consequences whatsoever for being a bigoted, misogynistic, hateful asshole. It takes two seconds for someone to type in “your tits are saggy and your nipples are ginormous and no one likes you slut” and there are absolutely no repercussions! On the other hand, I have to sort through piles and piles of such angry garbage just to get to my real bunnies (and the well-intentioned anons) who have legitimate questions or want sex advice, etc!
I’ll tell you what hun, if I somehow acquire the emotional and psychological fortitude to read cruel messages and experience no internal backlash — i.e. no pangs of depression and no frustrated anger — then, and only then, will I turn anonymous asks on. I know I’m a psychologically fragile person to begin with, and that I get hurt very easily, but it is something I’m working on in therapy and hopefully I can improve with time.
(goal: get to the point where I’m totally indifferent to anon hate-mail)
But all in all, it’s not a coincidence that since the moment I turned off anon, I haven’t received a single (read: not even one!) hateful, venomous, misogynistic personal attack of a message. All I’ve received are tons and tons of fruitful interactions with all my lovable bunnies!
WHAT IF MONEY CAME OUT OF OUR VAGINAS WHEN WE WERE ON OUR PERIODS
I’D BE BLOODY RICH
WAS THAT A PUN?
my friends sister was telling me about how in highschool a guy tried to take a picture up her skirt as she was walking up stairs and she saw, grabbed his phone, broke it in half, and handed it back to him and said “you can tell your mom why your phones broken”
for a second I forgot about flip phones and I was like how in the holy hell did she rip a phone in half