So you want to be a fetish model…

Fetish Model

It sounds like the dream job doesn’t it? Fancy outfits, getting paid huge amounts of money to lie around being sexy, fans telling you how amazing you are on the regular, flexible hours, travel to exotic locations, who WOULDN’T want to be a fetish model??

Well, except for the fact that fetish modeling isn’t anything like that. Not even close. Done right, it can be a very fun and enjoyable activity, but it is not the path to fame and riches that it might appear to be at first glance. One should do it for the experiences and opportunities, not for the supposed bags of money & adoring fan base.

“How do you become a fetish model?” is one of the most common questions that I get asked by people. Today I will be going over tips, tricks, safety and what you can expect if you decide to give it a try.

The first thing you have to do is decide if you are comfortable with provocative photos of you being online, as those photos will be online forever. It can effect you getting certain jobs in the future, such as teaching or politics and some people will be made so uncomfortable that they will judge you as a person. If you are okay with the potential ramifications that being naked or near naked online can entail then let’s move on to the next step…what *kind* of model do you want to be?

There are dozens of varieties of modeling opportunities out there. Fully clothed, semi nude, full nude, erotic, private photo shoots for collectors, video shoots for companies, cam shows, starting and running your own website, demo modeling for classes and products, full porn shoots, the possibilities are endless and varied. Each type of modeling gig comes with its own type of expectations and requirements. Once you have settled on what type of model you wish to be, you can move forward on actually booking shoots.

The first myth I want to dispel is the myth that modeling pays bucketloads of cash and models are incredibly wealthy. Let’s use math to dispel this one. The average person works 5 days a week at roughly 40 hours. There is no modeling job that is 5 days a week, it is simply not possible to get that many gigs booked regularly. Say you land a shoot that pays $1000. That is amazing, right??! So much money for a single day of shooting! But how many $1000 gigs are you going to get booked in a month? Let’s be generous and say you get TWO in one month! That puts you at $24,000 a year. Before taxes. Modeling pays a lot of money for a short period of actual work, but people with regular jobs make way more money than a model would.

When I was a full time model I did camming, taught classes, did photo shoots, video shoots, full porn, Pro Domming AND did night club performances. All at the same time. And I was still struggling to make ends meet. Don’t ever let that $1000 paycheck distract you from how infrequently the gigs actually come in.

The other thing to be aware of is that most modeling is provocative to some degree and most photographers tend to be male. Having hot mostly naked women strike flattering poses only a few feet from you is why most photographers got into the business, let’s be honest here. The trick is to find a photographer that is professional enough that he can hold the drooling, hard-ons and sexual comments in check while he is working with you.

How does one do that? References, looking at their portfolio, seeing what other models they have worked with before, listening to your gut and paying attention to how they conduct themselves during the email or phone negations. Creepy and unprofessional will out themselves soon, and they will do it every single time. Your gut is going to tell you if something is not right, do not ignore your gut because you are hard up for money. It is when you are desperate to pay your rent that you find yourself in bad situations, situations that your inner voice warned you about but you disregarded because you needed gas for the car. Never disregard that gut feeling over desperation for money.

Once you DO have a gig, make sure at least one or two people know where you are, the address of the shoot location, the photographer’s first and last name, their phone number and how long the shoot is expected to take. Make a point of checking in with your safety call buddy in front of the photographer so that they know that someone is expecting you to be done by a certain time.

Now comes the hard part: booking gigs. Most of modeling isn’t being sexy in front of the camera, it is endless grooming, tanning, dieting, working out, shaving and looking for work. Life becomes a never ending series of job interviews and you most often do not get the job. It is hard to not take it personally, but if you do not develop a thick skin about rejection you will quickly lose your mind.

Social media is your best friend when it comes to finding work. Get a twitter, a model mayhem account, update your Facebook, join modeling groups, find sites you would like to work for and submit applications. Applications can get lost in the shuffle, if you don’t hear back submit 3 or 4 more. What is the worst they can do? Not hire you? Your persistence can pay off. Become your own agent. Hustle yourself, as you are the product that you are hustling. The more that you promote yourself, the more you put yourself out there, the higher your visibility will become and the easier it will be to land work.

You have finally done it! Dodged the creepers that want to put their hands all over you in the name of “erotic art”, got a portfolio that you are proud of and are landing work on the regular. Life is good. There is just one last thing to factor in…fans.

People WILL treat you different. It might be a disdain that you dared to get naked on the internet or it might be an artificial sense of familiarity because they already know what your butthole looks like. You will find that people fully expect to be your best friend…they know what you look like, sound like, act like, they like everything about you, how could you two NOT be best friends??! As far as they are concerned, you are best friends. And then they get offended when you do not act like the best friend  they know you to be. People either want to look down on you or they want to fuck you. Or they want to look down on you while fucking you.

If you can deal with the infrequent gigs, inappropriate photographers and overly familiar fans, modeling is an awesome and empowering job! I did it for years and I loved every single minute of it. Go forth and get your naked kinky self on. Good luck and enjoy :)


Goldilocks cock

Every woman has run into one or two in her lifetime. Not too big, not too small. It feels just right, the perfect cock. The second you sample it, you *know* it is the one for you. It just clicks, like a puzzle piece that you had been missing.

Yeah, I said it, not too big. Shocker, huh?

I don’t know if it is a male thing…bigger breasts, bigger ass, bigger balls, bigger truck, bigger dick. Bigger is always better, a sign of being a REAL man. Or something.

Over the years I have noticed the tide shifting in the oceans of unsolicited emails from horny men that comes with being a woman on the internet. It used to be that all of these suave Casanovas that came knocking hopefully, penis in hand, sported 8 inch dicks. 8 was the magic number and by miraculous coincidence every dick that got in touch with me boasted those measurements.

Times have changed and these days the new magic number seems to be 9 inches, nobody bothers with 8 inches anymore. It is truly astonishing how many massive dicked 9 inch big boys are looking to get laid online. And I call bullshit on that.

Roughly 1 percent of the population has a dick that is 9 inches or longer. Pure logic and math dictates that not all of these eager to share dicks can possibly clock in at 9 inches…somebody is lying. Lying about something unnecessarily I might add.

As it turns out, not all woman are size queens. Heck, MOST women are not size queens. I truly believe that size matters waaayyyy more to men than women. I have, on multiple occasions, turned down guys for being too big.When they dropped trousers and I saw what I had to deal with, I passed. It was just too much to be comfortable. I have never turned down a man for being too small. The big dicked guys were all understanding about being turned down too, as it was not the first nor would it be the last time that it happened to them.

Big dicks are just more difficult to work with. The bigger they are the harder it is for them to get hard. Most big dick is floppy at best, there simply isn’t enough extra blood available in a body to get that monster to full mast without doing a quick hookup to an IV blood bag. And while half mast dick can be worked with, what makes big dick particularly unpleasant is that they simply HURT.

The average length of a vagina is under 6 inches. If you are bring 9 inches to the table, that is 3 lonely cold inches just hanging out in the breeze unless you are trying to jam them up past the cervix. And those extra inches just hurt and make you sore. Hurting sore pussy is rarely a selling point. While it it true that a turned on pussy can expand and stretch to accommodate larger things, there is only so far that it can go.

I personally prefer lengthy extended fuck sessions with lots of anal and deepthroat, and those sessions are much harder to pull off with massive manmeat. I quickly become sore and sex stops being fun. And I like having fun. Three sore holes just means that I can not go as far or as long as I would like.

Finding your Goldilocks dick is always a delight. When you come across that puzzle piece, that one that works just right for you, you never forget it. You want to keep that one. And use it on the regular. Ladies, I wish you nothing but the best in your quest for your Goldilocks cock. And men? Enough with the nine inches already. It is not exactly the big selling point that you all seem to think it is…

Becoming kinky is the exact same thing as becoming a born again Christian

So you are walking around with a void inside yourself. There is something missing but you just don’t know what it is…there is just a niggling feeling that there is something you need in your life that you just are not getting.
And then you discover what it is! You become a born again Christian (kinky)

Suddenly it all makes sense.

  • You go to church (your local dungeon) every Sunday (Saturday night)
  • You start to lose your non Christian (vanilla) friends as they do not understand your new passion
  • It is all you want to talk about or do. It is a good thing that there are church meet ups (munches) so that you can hang out with your fellow Christians (kinksters) and discuss your favorite topic
  • You start dressing different, more modestly (more black and leather)
  • You proudly put your fish logo (BDSM flag sticker) on your car so that your fellow Christians (kinksters) can identify you
  • You want to learn more and eagerly go to bible discussion groups (classes) to increase your knowledge
  • People wonder why it is all you talk about, why there is now a sparkle in your eye and a new found spring in your step, it is like you have been reborn
  • Your language changes, you are talking about new things, using new terms that you learned now that you have joined the church (lifestyle)
Admit it. You joined the cult of kink. It is just floggers and orgasms as opposed to bibles and prayers. I know that when I cum hard enough I certainly see God…


Communication. That shit works.

It is the ultimate fantasy of course. To find that perfect person. That soulmate. Your other half. That person that perfectly compliments you to such a degree that all the two of you have to do is lock eyes and they understand your every desire and need, reading you as easily as a newspaper. After all, isn’t that what a soulmate is supposed to be able to do?

Here is the thing: That is fantasy. The stuff of movies. And you and I? We live in the real world.

In the real world soulmates do not understand your needs unless you actually open up your mouth hole and express them. To expect a partner to be able to understand what it is you need without taking the time to clearly communicate what it is puts the burden of telepathy on them. And they are going to fail that test every time.

How many of us are guilty of being in a situation that is clearly not working for us and yelling at the top of our lungs “Stop doing that so hard/soft/shift one inch over!” without ever actually opening our mouth and saying it? Most of us, am I right? Because you don’t want to be rude or kill the moment or a thousand other reasons.

It doesn’t matter how loud you yell in your head, the situation will not be resolved unless you settle down to the unsexy but necessary task of communicating. Throw out the window the concept of being so in-sync with another human being that talking things over is unnecessary, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

It will be hard at first, I am not going to lie. It is awkward, you don’t know where to start, how to say it, half the time you are not even sure what it is your needs are. But the more you do it the easier it gets. And a true soulmate is the one that will take the time to listen to your needs and desires and respects them.

Is it still too overwhelming? Here is a handy trick I use. Set up a time with your partner. This is not a blame game or a gripe session, this is a clearly booked time with your partner. Ten or 15 minutes, with a start time and a stop time. Think about what it is that you want to say before the time starts and know what it is your want to go over. While you can in the future apply it to all aspects of your relationship, let’s start off easy with sex.

Your partner always does this incredibly annoying thing of biting the head of your dick hard, like a dog worrying a chewtoy. They do it because their last partner LOVED it, so of course all cocks must like a good nip, right? And here you are white-knuckled and suffering, gripping the sheets of the bed in agony but so happy that there is lips around your dick that you are just going to power through until they move onto something else.

Why are you subjecting yourself to that? Don’t be afraid to speak up. The only thing that is going to happen is an improved sex life. And if they can not deal with your communicating your needs clearly, is that really someone that you would want to be interacting with anyway?

Food for thought my friends. Apply this concept to all aspects of your life and thing will only get better. I promise.


And then he was arrested…

The hand grabbed me from behind, strong and confident. There was no hesitation, no pause. It grabbed like it belonged there and dug into my ass. I was somewhat taken aback, as I was in the middle of my shopping and debating which was the best brand of cooking oil. “Surely” I thought “It is someone that I know that just happened to see me in the store and is saying hello in a very friendly way.” and I turned around to see who had such a huge handful of my ass in such a confident matter.

I came face to face with a complete stranger. A man I had never laid eyes on before. A man that felt he has the right to come up to me from behind in the middle of a store and lay his hands on me. Two of his friends stood next to him grinning.

I did not deal with it particularly well, to be honest.

My screams of rage brought the entire store to a halt. He pulled his hand away and bolted. I was not going to let him get away with blithely laying hands all over me. Without consequences, he would feel free to do something like this, or much much worse, in the future. I was going to take a stand, I have rights. My rights are not to have my body touched without my consent.

The perp fled out the store with me hot on his heels. Eventually he was cornered and captured by security in the parking lot and the cops were called. As I answered all of the officer’s questions for the assault report, they remarked how brave and strong I was, as if bringing a store to a halt, screaming at someone assaulting me and chasing them out of a building was unusual behavior.

It shouldn’t be.

Are most women trained to be quiet and acquiescent? To allow strangers to grab their bodies and not make a fuss because women shouldn’t be fussy? Would most women not give chase to a man who laid hands on them?

That saddens me.

Maybe I am not most women, I do not know. What I do know is that I am not afraid to stand up for myself. I am not afraid to demand my rights. I have a right to go shopping in broad daylight in a store with multiple witnesses and not have complete strangers coming up from behind and grabbing me. Ladies, do not be afraid to stand up for your rights. Do not allow people to violate you and say nothing because you don’t want to come across as “fussy”.

Because I was not afraid to stand up for my rights, the man that felt he could lay hands on me ended up in the back of a cop car. If all women reacted like me, I can tell you that men would think twice before assaulting. Please do not be afraid to take a stand. Please not be afraid to speak up. You have a right to not have your body touched if you do not give consent.

I will be pressing charges. I will do everything in my power to give this individual a wake up call. Hopefully he will never do something like this again. We will see. At least he has a record now.

The three states of women

The three classic go to insults to sling at women are fat, ugly and old.

Fat? I have been called that a few times, but at 5’8 and a half and never having gone over 135 pounds, that one doesn’t stick very well, but no matter, they try it anyway.

Ugly? That one is much more common, and while beauty is subjective, the fact that I have successfully managed to make a living as a model tells me that I must be attractive enough in enough people’s eyes that “ugly” can only partially apply at best.

Which leaves us with old. And the longer that I am on this planet, the more often that is the one that gets flung at me by rejected dudebros as they depart my various email in boxes.

Look, we all are given an equal amount of youth, every single one of us, barring getting killed in some accident or some sort of illness that takes us out of the game early. You are trying to make me feel bad because I have succeeded in not dying yet? Good luck with that one my friend. You are attempting to insult me about reaching a state that you too will also achieve. It doesn’t sting quite as much as you seem to believe it will.

The reason that “old” is such a powerful insult to sling at women is that we still live in a society where a woman’s most powerful asset is youth & beauty. No matter what her skill sets are, her intellect, her passions, her drive, none of it really matters in the end a quarter as much as “Is she young and hot?”

Don’t believe me? Take 30 seconds to look at any commentary on Caitlyn Jenner’s transition and it basically boils how to “Is she hot?” And “How does she look for her age?” (The answers are “Yes” and “Good” but it really shouldn’t matter…despite the fact it obviously does)

Here is the thing dear dudebros of the internet: When you come charging in to stranger’s inboxes, waving your dick around wildly hoping to hit a hole and get shot down, slinging around insults as you exit only makes it harder for YOU to get laid in the future.

Why do you want to make it harder for you to get laid in the future? How could that possibly benefit you in any way? The ruder and more inappropriate you are, the more wary and cynical women become of men. The more wary & cynical women become of men, the less likely they are going to be to consider the next cock that comes hopefully poking by. A general wave of exasperation and a miasma of distrust starts to permeate the whole male/female interaction.

You might think I am an old and ugly woman just running her mouth, lord knows I have been called that and much worse many a time, so let me appeal to your penis: Dear penis: The ruder that guy is that is attached to you, the less chances you have to get wet. Can you please have a quick chat with him? Thank you ever so much. Sincerely, Womankind.

I won’t reach everyone out there, I know better, but I succeed at reaching just one wild horny internet derpalope then the take it took me to write this blog was worthwhile.


The comfort of negative thinking

I originally started noticing it around other models. Interacting with them was an endless litany of “I am old, fat, not flexible, not pretty, out of shape, not good enough, etc etc…” and at first I thought it was a female thing, as woman are damn good at constantly criticizing themselves.

Then I noticed that the riggers and handlers I would work with that were male were just as bad. “Jokes” about how they didn’t know what they were doing, how they couldn’t tie, couldn’t photograph, couldn’t direct…yes, there is nothing more comforting for a rope bunny to be tied up by someone going on and on about how they suck at tying. Yeah, that is reassuring. In no way, shape or form.

Once my eyes were opened, I looked around me and saw an endless stream of people around me wallowing in self doubt and criticism.

So why do we spend so much time insulting ourselves and putting down? Why do we get such comfort out of negative thinking?

The comfort of negative thinking it that it gives you a free pass to not do anything with your life. If you are a useless loser that is no good at anything then it is not your fault that you do nothing, stagger though a meaningless blip of an existence and then die. You will never have to feel the sting of failure if you never attempt anything.

I am not counseling arrogance, far from it. Arrogance is its own distasteful flavor and a topic I have covered fairly frequently. But life is hard enough to slog through on this planet without adding a nagging backseat driver camped out in your head constantly telling you how much you suck and are not good enough. Trust me, you do not need to invest any of your limited time in this game called life tearing yourself down. Others will be more then happy to do that for you, you do not need to add the weight of any more bricks to that particular load.

Full disclosure: I was born with scoliosis. Bad scoliosis. 64 degree curve, 3 back surgeries, constant chronic pain, a vertebrae yanked over into my right shoulder as my spine shifts and my rib cage bows out. My future is a lot of pain, decreased mobility and lung troubles. My back is spreading out and chairs are already a tricky constantly shifting rack of pain.

My scoliosis and realization that the only body I was given in this lifetime is a raw deal became the fuel that drove me that much harder. I do not have the time or luxury to procrastinate. I do not have a reliable vehicle that I can count on, I do not have the privilege of procrastinating, of putting things off until tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, whoops! Your time is all up and what did you do with it? Not much, am I right? Some great dreams and plans in your head and nothing tangible to show for it.

Stop wallowing in the comfort of negative thinking and putting yourself down every 30 seconds and you will be astounded at what you can accomplish with all that extra free time you now have.

Stop being so afraid of failure that it paralyzes you into inactive stagnation. While it is comforting to live in your head with all the cool shit you are going to do, some other day, some other time, that clock is ticking…you are not getting back those minutes slipping though your fingers. There are no refunds.

The truth is that you are capable of some pretty cool stuff. Stop getting in your own way and give yourself permission to go out and be awesome. You will be amazed at what you can pull off once you drop that comfort blanket of negativity…

The fear and the shame

Sex is, to me, an art form. It is my religion, my passion, a guaranteed and reliable path to altered consciousness. This may seem like odd new age bullshit to you. To the people that feel that way, to the people that view the sexual experience as insert tab A into slot B, you might as well check out now. If sex as a path to altered realties sounds like hippie drivel to you, this is not the essay for you.

Right then. Where were we? This is for the people that have stuck around.

I found out years ago how with the right partner under the right circumstances I could lose my fucking mind. This was an incredible revelation. I could literally use sex as an effective tool to lessen and even shut off the pain of existence. Minds. They can be a right pain in the ass most of the time. Are you telling me there are reliable tools and techniques that make me forget my name and see other realities? Why the fuck isn’t everyone doing this all the time??

Because fear. Because guilt. Because shame.

It turns out that people have epic levels of guilt and fear and shame associated with sex. Crippling amounts. All of that shame is a toxic stranglehold that kills what could of been an incredible experience with another human being. Your mind will not let go, it will not shut up. It chatters, it bitches, it floods you in anxiety and paranoia. What a waste of the precious limited time you have been given on this planet! You don’t get back the wasted hours you spent wallowing in fear and guilt.

People remark to me on a fairly consistent basis that I am somehow remarkable or different or inspiring. There is nothing different or remarkable about me except for one very important thing: I just do not give a fuck. I do not. Not even a little bit. I do not carry the baggage of shame or guilt or fear in my sexual experiences.

The not giving a fuck is a game changer. I just let go. I give it my all. I seek drooling oblivion. I seek becoming a Greek God with access to a different, primal universe. I seek to be blasted into levels where I am no longer physically able to sit up any longer. I seek to shut my mind right up. I have the tools, I know the path, I know how to get there.

It is when I try and take others on this journey that I can run into trouble. They panic, they can not let go, the fear creeps in. The shame and guilt pop up to poison the situation. “How do you do it?” they ask “How do you go that far? How do you not freak out?”

Because I simply do not give a fuck. It is just that simple.

None of this might make any sense to you. It might seem like I am talking nonsense. But there are one or two of you out there that just might get it. There is someone out there that will read this, chose to put the shame and fear down and also find that path to the altered realties. And when you are spent and twitching on the floor, eyes glassy, covered in sweat and drool and your mind a blissful beautiful paradise, the pain of day to day existence completely gone, as your brains ever so slowly trickle back into your skull you just might think of me for a moment, watching and wildly approving from the corner. You are welcome. It can be done. Show others and spread the knowledge.

Food for thought my friends. The feast is out there. Go for it.

Rain DeGrey

I love you. I am broken. Please fix me.

From an early age, we are raised on the Hollywood Hallmark myth of love. That amazing perfect person is going to come along, sweep you off your feet and make everything all better. That your soulmate and partner is out there waiting for you and they are going to fix you and save you from yourself.

Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that is a fucking myth.

While you are waiting for that person to come along and fix you, life just keeps chugging along. And here you are, flailing around and broken, waiting for someone to rescue you with love and affection and endless bolstering of your endless issues. What a horrible burden to put on someone else! What a heavy rock you are desperately looking for a pair of shoulders to drop on.

“I love you. I am broken. Please fix me.”

Entering a relationship as a broken bag of issues and expecting your partner to be the magic potion that will fix you all up better is a recipe for disaster. People are not magic potions. A relationship is not going to fix you and make you a more complete person. And when that is the unspoken expectation you are putting on another person, they are guaranteed to disappoint you and fail to fix you in some way. Cue the spiral of unfulfilled expectations and resentment, and you are on to the next relationship. Surely THIS one will be the one to make everything all better! This next one is the one that will do it!!

Here is a crazy thought: Why not try approaching relationships as a healthy and whole person looking for a team mate? Not as someone to save you from yourself. Not as someone to rescue you from depression and trauma, not as a rock or savior that you could not possibly live without or you will shatter into a million tiny pieces, but a companion and an equal.

I guarantee that if you bring a happy and healthy functioning person to the table when it comes to relationships, they are going to go smoother. I guarantee that when you are not looking for another person to save you from yourself you will not find yourself resenting your partner for failing to live up to the unreasonable expectations they didn’t even know they were signing up for.

When you truly love someone, you do not lay your baggage at someone’s feet and expect them to pick it up for you. No, you two carry the baggage TOGETHER while doing your very best to lose that baggage as fast as humanly possible. There is a weight limit on baggage, and too much of it will sink that relationship faster than a leaking boat.

Food for thought my friends.


You are not owed a thing

Right now, I need you to do something for me. Take a minute, a few deep breaths, locate a mirror, look yourself directly in the eyes and repeat after me: “I am not owed a thing.” Say it a few more times if needed until it sinks in. Ok, are you ready now? Here we go.

Privilege is a funny thing. You are not even aware you have it until it is taken away.

And when you are used to the comfort and freedom of privilege, the shock of having it taken away can make people act in odd ways.

Every day in every way, men have privilege. They have the privilege of greater economic power, greater strength, are generally taken more seriously and are more respected, they have greater opportunities.

The privilege of not having to hesitate when it is 11 pm and dark outside and you are all out of milk and need to make a run to the store. The thought “Maybe I should wait until tomorrow when it is safer and light outside” never has to cross their mind.

The privilege of calling up a contractor because you need a roof repair and the contractor doesn’t ask to speak to “The man of the house” or quote you a higher price because you have a vagina.

The privilege of more job opportunities at higher pay.

The privilege of being taken seriously when you go to buy a car.

Every day in every way, men get these privileges and *are not even aware of it.*

And then they get online. And still operating under the privilege they have been graced with their entire life, that they are not even aware they are bathing in, they start emailing women. And here is where a funny thing happens. That privilege gets checked. And they do not handle it well. They start melting down. They are OWED a response, see? They are ENTITLED to a response. That is their privilege talking to them there.

In the real world, on the street, even if a woman is not interested, you can get in her face. You can demand some sort of response, as little and slight as it might be. That is your privilege and you are used to having it. Online, all you can do is shoot out an email and hope they respond. And most of the time they do not. Because it is not their job. Because they do not owe you anything. And that is fine.

Where it is not fine is when your privilege makes you melt down and start DEMANDING responses, when you start getting rude and cutting, start generally revealing yourself to be the entitled asshole you were all along. And you wondered why she never responded to you in the first place? You are showing her exactly why. You are simply reinforcing to her that she made the right choice from the very beginning.

It is a brave new world out there buddy. We do most of our hanging out online these days. And it is a bit more of a level playing field here. You don’t get the privilege you are used to having. You better get used to that fact, as it is not going anywhere. Get used to empty mailboxes, get used to messages not being responded to. Because women do not *owe* you a response. They will respond if they feel like it, if you are engaging and catch their interest, but demanding they chat with you and then getting snotty when they do not do do will simply get you a one way ticket to Blockedville. And ain’t nobody want to hang out in Blockedville. It is a very cold and lonely place…