09 Apr 2017, 11:29 pm
I had a particularly noteworthy conversation on Omegle this evening and had an urge to share it with someone, for thoughts and analysis. Not AS-related, except that I briefly mention my inability to tell when I'm being hit on. We ended up disagreeing on something, and I'm curious if anyone sees her point of view. I tried to. Here is the conversation in its full, uncensored glory (breaks when speaker changes added for convenience):
[After posting this, I saw WP censored certain words. These words were not censored in the original conversation.)
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You both like Roleplay.
Stranger: ((Hello! This roleplay is for DOMINANT, OVERPROTECTIVE, POSSESSIVE MALES ONLY for a ROMANTIC ROLEPLAY. In the roleplay below, you will be playing as a janitor that works at the same business firm that Lucille works at. The janitor should be big and built, but quite stupid-- being why he’s a janitor. WARNING: My character is a PLUS-SIZED WOMAN! If you have an irrational fear towards plus-sized women, then this isn’t for you. Please be descriptive (3+ screen lines, impeccable grammar, 3rd PERSON).))
Lucille’s hips swayed unconsciously. Her high heels made a clacking sound with every step she took. Her blonde head was down, focusing on her phone. It had been the end of the first week at her new job, and already, she felt overqualified for it. Her tasks-- although challenging to many-- were almost insultingly simple. She managed money, accounted, and even did more; she did all of the jobs that no one else wanted to do, or were too intimidated to do.
As she made her way down a spiraling flight of steps, she heard the dreadful sound of a vacuum humming below. She paused for a moment. Should she go the other way? Her hand clenched the rail so hard that her knuckles were white. That damn janitor was working late again, wasn’t he? And… speak of the devil. The janitor had craned his neck slightly, leaning to the side so he could peer up the stairwell to see if she was there. Lucille blinked in surprise, taking a step back, lifting her arm. He beamed at her, waving, before continuing to work. Lucille gulped, moving her feet together quickly, stiff and awkward. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The janitor was already going out of his way every day to clean her office while she occupied it. Denise, Lucille’s assistant, was even noticing this phenomenon.
“He’s got a bit of a crush on you,” Denise had said with a chuckle over lunch. “He asked me about you earlier today. Super sweet guy. Bit of a slow talker. He’s not that bad looking, is he?”
“He must be stupid if he’s a janitor,” Lucille said in reply.
Lucille continued to descend the stairs, more carefully now, her eyes wider than saucers. He was staring at her now, grinning, and he waved again. “Hello, Lucille!” He called. And… he did the worst. He turned off his vacuum. Her eyes widened, and she nearly tripped over herself as she rushed down the rest of the stairs, then began to hurry across the waiting area as fast as she could move. However, she felt a breeze past her, and gasped as she looked up. The janitor was holding the door for her, panting and grinning. She froze in her spot, her eyes wide, taking on that deer-in-the-headlights look again. He still stood, his chest rising and falling in excitement as he observed her. Shyly, Lucille lowered her head again, giving a thin smile to the floor. “Th-Thank you, sir,” She said softly, brushing past his big, bulky body as she quickly made her way to the door. He smiled, nodding, eagerly rushing to the other door and opening it up for her. Lucille gulped, pausing once more. Then, she quickly made her way past him, and he… for god’s sake, his massive hands clapped to on her wide, childbearing hips. She gasped, her nimble hands clasping the massive pair of hands on her hips, turning to glare at him. “E-Excuse me?” “O-Oh… I’m sorry, Lucille,” he said, his smile fading, his hands slowly retreating off of the woman he so adored. She glared at him for a moment, mostly embarrassed, and turned to walk away. The whole time, he watched her form retreat. ((Please reply with maybe one response with how his night went, then I’ll do the same, and we can skip to the morning afterwards!))
((Lucille is a very awkward, yet intelligent and fiercely independent woman at 26 years old. She graduated as the valedictorian of her class, and had several scholarships to colleges. Her hard work didn’t stop after high school. She didn’t go to a single party in college, as she either had work, classes, or homework. No matter how smart she was, no one could deny that she lacked a tiny bit in the social scene. She was very shy, and she didn’t have any boyfriends before. Lucille is a very tall woman-- 5’10-- and she has a very thick, curvaceous body. Her thighs are thick, her hips are wide, and she has a large bottom. She has a small roll of fat towards the bottom of her stomach, and stretch marks littered throughout. She has long, silky, white-blonde hair to her middle back that she usually pins up, bright blue eyes, thick, round lips, and a white smile. Her skin is white with taupe-colored freckles scattered over every inch. Lucille usually wears a blazer to work every day with a matching pencil skirt, sheer hose, and flats.))
You: Reading.
You: I'm curious, how often do you find a partner to do this with you? (I don't mean that in an at all disparaging way.)
Stranger: I haven't really been around with this one, so not that many!))
Stranger: I usually get tired of bots and trolls and go to bed.
You: You mean you haven't tried that much to use it?
You: I have that same problem, btw.
Stranger: Yeah, that's what I mean.
You: Fair enough. Could you name any famous women you would describe as sharing your body type?
Stranger: Uh... most hollywood women are petite, so... I'll give you a plus-sized model, Justine Legault.
You: Much better; I'm a visual person.
Stranger: Oh, by the way, this isn't a self-insert. Lucille is my character. Not me.
You: I never really know what to make of the description "plus-sized." I once had a crush on this girl who kept going on about how fat she was, but I never thought of her as being overweight.
You: I understand.
Stranger: Ah, so you're one of those guys that automatically assumes that plus-sized women are fat. Nice.
You: Well, in my defense, that Justine Legault ain't no twig.
Stranger: So... you think Justine Legault is fat?
You: If anything, my experience with that crush only further muddied my perception of what either of those terms mean.
You: Yes.
You: Like, am I wrong for thinking that girl was attractive? She didn't seem to find herself all that attractive (though she did acknowledge she was out of my league).
Stranger: Oh, nice! You must be into 110 pound, 4'11 girls. Or you must be European. Or maybe you just live under a f*****g rock.
You: It seemed to me she had poor self-image.
Stranger: She was doing that to get you to tell her that she's pretty. Ugh.
You: If I may be completely honest, I don't attach numbers to appearances.
Stranger: Oh, yes, you do.
You: Oh, she was beautiful. There was a bit of an awkward situation when I didn't want to have sex with her (because we weren't married).
Stranger: Kill yourself.
You: That is a horrible thing to say to anyone.
You: You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
You: What if I have suicidal tendencies? You don't know.
You: Think before you press "Send" about the effect of what you're saying might have on someone.
Stranger: Nah fam
You: I don't mean to be coming down too hard on you, but have you ever actually met someone who lost a friend or family member to suicide?
Stranger: Yep.
Stranger: And I still say it with pride. Because people like you deserve to die.
You: Please understand this is surprising to me, in light of how quickly you w
You: Please describe to me why.
You: It seems like this anger toward me is coming from nowhere in particular. I can't identify it.
Stranger: Oh, you're one of those waste of space good-old Christian boys that are 115 pounds, white, and 5'10. You have long hair, and a fat chick's hit on you maybe once, so now you automatically hate every single one. You have this weird mindset where you're think you're better than someone just because of how you look. So, for that, you can kill yourself.
You: *140 pounds (also, forgot to mention before, I'm not European)
You: I've never been hit on by an overweight woman.
You: I have absolutely no idea where you come up with that ending part.
You: It's so out of left field I'm unsure of how to respond.
You: At least, I should include an addendum, I'm not aware of any instances I've been hit on by an overweight woman.
You: According to most people, I can't tell when I'm being hit on.
Stranger: Oh, wow, you're so f*****g quirky and unque.
Stranger: *unique
You: What are you talking about?
Stranger: Please, tell me more about how quirky and unique you are to an omegle stranger that is literally looking for an RP, and not for a conversation with a stupid fuckboy that's about as interesting and significant to me as a speck of f*****g dirt.
You: It's difficult for me to believe you're reading my responses.
You: I presume you're willing to suspend your search for sexual gratification by the fact you haven't yet disconnected, and also appreciate it.
You: Also, can I please ask you to define "fuckboy"? I encountered it used here once and was given a definition that does not fit the context you are using it in now.
Stranger: Nice, but I don't get sexual gratifcation out of this starter. But nice assumption.
You: Oh, I apologize.
Stranger: Oh, you're a guy that gets with hundreds of skinny girls.
You: That one was my bad.
You: Can you explain to me why you would think that?
Stranger: Because every other man like you does so.
You: What do you mean "like me," though?
You: Also, I feel like I included an important detail in one of my messages to you that you didn't read.
Stranger: There are millions of boys just like you. I come in contact with boys like you daily.
You: I didn't ask how many boys "like me" there are or how frequently you encountered them, I asked you to define what you mean by it.
You: I'm trying to be polite, but I feel like, at best, you're skimming over my messages and looking for excuses to cram in your obvious bias against whatever it is you believe me to be.
Stranger: I'm not going to suck your dick and try to give you more ways to classify yourself as. f**k off.
Stranger: You're not being polite.
Stranger: You're wasting my time.
Stranger: You never intended to roelplay with me.
Stranger: You're a troll.
You: I have no interest in fellatio.
You: I did have interest, but I found your opening intriguing and asked a question.
Stranger: Ah, then you got turned off by the fact that my character was plus-sized.
Stranger: Nice.
Stranger: So typical.
You: You responded, and we had a pretty civil conversation for a while, and then you began insulting me for no clear reason.
You: Why are you holding something I can't control against me?
Stranger: What? What can't you control?
You: My lack of attraction towards women over a certain size threshold.
Stranger: Oh, yeah, I forgot. Men think with their dicks.
Stranger: Oh, nice! So you're one of those great men that feel like you can be a total a**hole to someone because you're not attracted to them. Given what I already know about you, not surprising.
Stranger: The more I speak to guys like you, the less surprised I become.
Stranger: The more similar you all become.
You: Are you under the impression I've been rude to you in some way?
You: If so, I apologize, and I'm also curious as to how.
Stranger: Yes, you are. You didn't find my character attractive, so now you feel the need be rude to me by wasting my time and trolling me.
Stranger: Like the millions of other boys just like you, you never let people know what your sh***y intentions are from the start.
You: Again, like I said, based on the fact you can disconnect at any moment and have not yet chosen to, you'd clearly rather have this conversation than disconnect.
You: This question has been burning in the back of my mind: how should I have responded to your opener and subsequent comments?
Stranger: Ah, it's not that I'd rather stay here and talk to you. I'd rather open your eyes to the fact that you are bland, boring, and below average. You are not better than a fat woman.
Stranger: You should have actually responded to the roleplay, or disconnected.
Stranger: Simple as that.
You: I used to think the way you do. Unfulfilling times. Why are you under the impression I don't consider myself to be those things?
Stranger: And not just fat women-- you are not better than women that you do not see as attractive.
You: I used to get angry at girls who didn't want to date me. I blamed them, absolved myself of any guilt, and always assumed they needed to change their attitudes for me.
You: I even had (and, I will admit, still occasionally feel a twinge of) violent impulses toward women I consider attractive.
Stranger: I'm not asking you to date me. I'm asking you to treat me with f*****g respect.
You: I'm asking for an example of how I treated you with disrespect.
You: Additionally, people who tell other people to kill themselves shouldn't expect respect.
Stranger: You are being disrespectful by still being here.
Stranger: Ah, then you're not respecting me.
You: Again, you could have disconnected at any point after beginning to talk to me.
You: I'm doing my best to in spite of how hurt I am by your comments toward me.
Stranger: Again, if you're going to stay, I'm going to open your eyes.
You: You have showered me with judgment, suggested I kill myself and force my baby sister to grow up without a big brother, assumed the worst of me unilaterally, and after I have made every attempt to understand your point of view and be as inoffensive as possible.
Stranger: You talk to women who you do not think are attractive with a whole air of disrespect. You are condescending. You are a piece of s**t.
Stranger: If I were your sister, I would kill myself.
You: My sister's eight months old.
Stranger: Maybe if she grows up fat, she'll kill herself, then.
You: If I'm disrespecting you by not connected in spite of the fact I don't find you attractive (based solely on your personality), then you're doing the same to me, aren't you?
Stranger: She'll kill herself because of sh***y, slimey men like you.
You: You clearly hold me in no regard, yet you willfully continue speaking to me.
You: Along with telling me and my loved ones to kill ourselves.
Stranger: Oh, no. You don't find me nor my character attractive because we're both fat. You would treat us, total strangers, like s**t, because we're fat.
You: This is the first time you've indicted to me that you yourself are fat. Prior to that message, you never alluded to your physical appearance.
You: Also, I find you unattractive because you've disparaged myself, my family, my religion, and things about me that aren't true but you assumed are, instead of getting to know me.
Stranger: I'm sorry to tell you-- but not all women are going to perfect, petite little dolls for you. You are going to have to respect them. You would not have treated me with respect if you ever saw me in person because I am a fat girl.
You: What are you talking about?
Stranger: I have no interest in getting to know a piece of s**t.
You: I have shown you a degree of respect far surpassing that which you have shown me.
You: If you don't get to know me, how do you know I'm a piece of s**t?
You: Also, you need to stop judging people. It's annoying, disrespectful, and make you come off as extremely unintelligent.
Stranger: I do know that you're a piece of s**t. I've met countless boys exactly like you.
Stranger: If I don't use my usually-right judgement, I will be disappointed to find out that you are as interesting as a speck of dust.
You: Part of me wants to ask again what "boys like me" are, but you've destroyed the faith I previously had in you to answer simple questions.
You: What do you mean "usually-right"?
You: In this conversation, your judgment has been exceedingly wrong.
You: You need to learn that respect is a two-way street. You cannot expect to treat others like garbage and expect to be exalted by them as royalty. That's insanity, plain and simple.
Stranger: Well, you surely haven't denied any of it. In fact, you've told me that I'm correct.
You: (Sorry for using "expect to" twice in a row, my bad.)
You: If I denied it, what would you do?
Stranger: Maybe I wouldn't have treated you like s**t if you wouldn't have called someone who's not fat fat.
Stranger: My character literally wasn't fat. You're a moron.
You: You're referring to the Justine person?
Stranger: Yes. She is not fat. She is plus-sized, but curvy, not fat.
You: I apologize for calling her fat. I did not mean to offend you or disparage her and it was wrong for me.
You: *of
Stranger: BS. That's not genuine. You are not a genuine person. You are not good enough of a person to be genuine.
Stranger: If you had denied it, I would have called BS. I've met too many of you sh***y boys.
You: Before I say anything else, I really appreciate your proper use of language (capitalization, punctuation, etc.). It's so refreshing to meet someone else capable of communicating on my level.
Stranger: f**k off.
You: On that note, though, I need to leave. It's less than 45 minutes to midnight and I need to get dinner before the café closes.
Stranger: Haha, you should kill yourself while you're gone.
You: Talking to you is such a great exercise in rhetoric, though. Want to email/kik?
Stranger: No. I'm not talking to utter garbage.
You: Well, of course not, you're talking to me.
You: I'll give you my email and kik information, just in case you change your mind.
You: Which I hope you do, because, though you might not agree, I'm immensely grateful to have been connected to you.
Stranger: Which I won't. You will not change me, as opposed to what you think.
You: masterinika@aol.com
You: Kik: theolosipher
You: I have no interest in changing everybody, save for the better.
Stranger: Oh, my god. Your usernames just scream, "I'm a piece of s**t."
You: *screams
You: Oh, usernames, never mind.
You: Caught red-handed.
You: I really do hope you reconsider. You're like a breath of fresh air in Omegle, the wasteland of sexbots and uneducated idiots.
Stranger: You think that you're any better than these people? You're not. You're part of the uneducated idiots.
You: I'm so enthralled, I can barely conceived of leaving.
You: You're such a mystery, an enigma. You're clearly intelligent, yet you allow your base emotions to cloud the good judgment intelligence yields.
You: It's fascinating. You're like a good book I can't put down.
You: The source of your anger and bitterness, what is it? Who hurt you? And what did they do to hurt you on such a scale that you see nothing but more enemies where there, in fact, are none?
Stranger: Haha, I'm not hurt. More annoyed than anything.
You: If you're annoyed, you do a good job of inciting your innermost feelings in those you talk to.
Stranger: I'm a rather open person. Believe it or not, there's people that are even more open... Like you.
You: I would once be mad at conversing with someone like you. As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm shaking, my heart is racing... But I pity you. You throw insult after insult, yet at every turn try to play the victim. What you fail to realize is, the louder you are, the more your rabble drowns itself out.
You: Was that a compliment? I see I'm making progress!
You: Thank you very much for it. 
I also pride myself on my openness. It makes me very glad to see it acknowledged.
Stranger: No, you're not. You used it as an insult towards me earlier. An attempt to get me to grow angry.
You: I want you to realize you speak to others in an incredibly hurtful way. If it is necessary to make you a little uncomfortable to teach you manners before you say the wrong thing to the wrong person... so be it.
You: You seem to be incapable of being considered anything other than perfect. That, I will admit, bothers me a little. I usually think of people who demand to be considered perfect as spoiled and entitled.
Stranger: Oh, god. You think you're some weird DDLG daddy. Get the f**k away from me. You won't teach me anything. You aren't in control of me.
You: But I know you're not. You're better than that.
You: What are you talking about?
You: I'm a sub.
You: And, not that I'm counting, but that's another failure of your usually-wrong judgment.
You: I had only a brief stint in the DDLG community years ago. It weirded me out and I ran away as fast as I could.
Stranger: Oh, well, that's one of the rare times that I'm wrong. Nevertheless, it'll be quickly recovered. No wonder you're arguing with me so much.
You: I'm not arguing with you.
Stranger: Yes, you are. What the f**k would you call this, then?
You: I must get to the café. I've enjoyed talking to you so much, though, that I'm going to leave this open and hope you've also enjoyed it enough to wait for me to come back, which should be within the hour.
You: Talk to you soon!
Stranger: Ugh, f**k off.
Stranger has disconnected.
10 Apr 2017, 6:06 am
