Page 23 of Omega Artist
Alie G: What? I’m genuinely curious.
Tig: My answer should be genuine then;) Well…
I twist a strand of my short hair around my fingers and wait. This time, I don’t have to press, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Tig: Is boxer briefs the answer you were after?
Alie G: No tux then;(
Tig: Oh, come on! First, I’d NEVER wear a tux. Second, I look pretty good right now. Third, what are YOU wearing?
It’s followed by a devilish emoticon. If he thinks that he’s going to win at this game, he’s terribly wrong.
Alie G: 1) Too bad, I love a man in a tux. 2) Do you now? I need evidence. 3) Nothing.
Tig: Tease! I’ll go first.
Now we’re talking… It wasn’t that hard to redirect the conversation. The funny thing about men is that sex is on their mind 24/7, and that’s a fact, not a stereotype.
Within seconds, my phone chimes and I’m faced with a heavily tattooed, but very decent, four-pack above the elastic band of a boxer brief. The evidence that I’ve been soliciting has been graciously provided.
Odd, I thought he was skinnier when I Googled him after my chat with Sybil.
What I’m faced with is delectable—no bulky muscles, nothing but appealing, lean abs that I’d be happy to lick if they didn’t belong to him and had a dusting of body hair instead of ink.
This is a new aspect of Tig that I’ve been meaning to discover. I didn’t want to come on too strong at first, and I intentionally chose to differentiate myself from anyone he would encounter on a hookup app. Clearly, he knows that I’m not interested in sex, let alone a relationship.
Tig: Happy?
Alie G: Impressed.
Tig: Ha-ha.
Alie G: I mean it. You work out and it shows. Kudos!
Tig: *Blushing* Goal has yet to be achieved, but getting there. Now it’s your turn;)
Alie G: I work out too.
My bicep curl emoji is definitely not what he wanted; I’m laughing to myself though, eager to see if he takes the bait. Soon enough, a knowing smile appears on my face before I can stop it and stay focused on my own goal. Yeah, my goal is more meaningful than his. I’m surprised that he isn’t as shallow as I’d anticipated, but a man who broadcasts his abs the first chance he gets must be, right?
Anyway, when I said that I work out, I meant it. I’m not sporting washboard abs, but I exercise consistently and watch my diet to increase my chances of staying cancer-free. I let out a disappointed sigh; I honestly enjoyed discussing paintings, books, and music with him. Sadly, his most recent texts and picture prove that he’s merely another meathead. I should focus on my initial objective and keep in mind that he’s not somebody I care about. I’m here to make an example of this manwhore. Since when is whore an insult and manwhore praise? Since when can’t women own their sex life? Since forever, and I can’t accept it.
Tig: Oh, please, you know what I meant. I show you mine, you show me yours. It’s only fair!
Alie G: I’m a tease, sue me! Just so you know, I’m a big fan of fairness.
He has no idea how true this is. He has no idea who he’s up against. He has no idea he’s a pawn in my scheme. Another text pops up.
Tig: Still waiting;) I can’t believe you’re chickening out. It’s so unlike you! Chicken;(
Alie G: Because you know me so well.
Tig: I think I know you well enough by now.
Maybe he does, or at least formed an image of me based on the meager details I’ve provided. One text after another.
Alie G: Fine. But it’s hen to you;) I’m a female and embrace my differences.
