The Ick

“What you up to?”

There is no sentence that dries me out more than this one. It’s an instant ick. Before you asked this question, you could have been the most devastatingly, deliciously sexy person I’d ever met. I could have been panting for your touch, dripping with the anticipation of your lips meeting mine, my nipples might have hardened at the mere mention of your name. But now you’ve asked me that, nope. 

You’ve gone from being a 1993 Johnny Depp to a 2022 Johnny Depp in the space of one question. 

I despise it; to me, it’s the most unoriginal and dull way of starting a conversation. And I simply do not want to fuck unoriginal and dull people. 

My immediate reaction is of intense annoyance, anger even, that you’d want to know what I’m doing; my first thought, why do you want to know? That question causes my eyes narrow in suspicion. As a person with many complex defence mechanisms to protect themself, I don’t like anyone attempting to breach them without invitation. Noseyness is an annoyance, jealousy is maddening, possessiveness is an enormous red flag. 

I spend 77% of a weekday either asleep, working, or eating (yes, I did work this out on a calculator to be scientific). My days, like most people’s days, are actually quite boring; I don’t ask you what you’re up to because I am anticipating your answer being quite boring. I trust that if you were doing something genuinely exciting, interesting, or important you’d choose to tell me about it without being prompted. If I’m accepting an award or going skydiving or having an MRI scan on my brain, I’ll be sure to let you know. 

If you want to see what I’m up to in the hope of getting a fuck, please just ask me if I’m free for a fuck. Don’t dance around it, being fraudulently interested in my life or trying to appear coy. We’re adults, we can just ask. 

So you simply want to talk to me? Well, there are a thousand better ways of starting a conversation. You could ask how I am. Tell me about something that’s interested you today, or interested you for a decade, and let’s talk about it. Pick a topic from today’s news and ask me what my opinion is. Send me a Tweet you found really funny and let me laugh at it with you. Remember, for fuck’s sake remember, our last conversation and continue it. Give me a constructive compliment. Get excited about an amazing song you just heard and rhapsodize about the artist. Watch that West Wing clip I told you about and feedback. Tell me about that exciting or important thing you just did and how exciting or important it is. You found a cute animal, cool, talk to me about how cute it is and all the facts you’ve found out. Rant about something awful in politics, that’s bound to get me talking for hours. You can even tell me about your dinner and how fucking tasty it was and how you want to cook it for me. Ask me any other question about my life, because you’re interested in me. Tell me you were thinking of me and simply wanted to talk. 

Please don’t kill the conversation and my horn for you with this question. Be the 1993 Johnny Depp and talk to me.

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