Page 87 of Sour Notes

Hello my little star.

I hope you’re having the best time in paradise with that hunk you’ve landed yourself. In fact, you better be riding him ragged.

But if you’re reading this after you’ve sent him into a post-sex man stupor, then you’ll be pleased to note Dickonomics was a huge success. We’ve been inundated with emails about it. They loved your dry reaction and breakdown of the apps, and want more.

Do you think you have time to do a second quick article while you’re there?

Article isn’t even the right word. More of a What Not To Do On First Dates list?

We can run it online under the Dr. Reality Check, Love, Mia umbrella and print it in next month's edition.

Let me know.

J

P.S. Have a shot of ouzo for me!

P.P.S Are you having a good time?

P.P.P.S What do you think of the toys?

Chuckling, I scan the general company email folder. Sure enough, there are hundreds of emails with the subject Dickonomics.

Fuck yeah.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Dickonomics is a hit!

Hell yes! That’s awesome.

And sure I can. I’ll kick something back to you in the next few days.

Sorta like a Dating How Don’ts?

1. Under no circumstances do you kick your shoes off in the movie theater on a first date. Your date doesn’t need to know if your feet reek this soon in your courtship.

2. Morticia Addams might have loved having her arm kissed. But just because you’re dating a “goth” girl, doesn’t mean she wants the same treatment. Put the arm down and leave that shit to Gomez. Let’s be honest, you don’t have his suave style anyway, do you?

How’s something like that?

I haven’t even opened the box of toys yet. I better grab that from Swayze’s suitcase. Speaking of toys, the TSA agent pulled out my vibrator because the fucking thing turned itself on! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to pack it, but you better believe I’m hurling it off this cliff. Hopefully I’ll find my replacement BOB in that stash.

I don’t love ouzo—yes, I know, sacrilege. Bite me—but I’ll have a Sex on the Beach for you instead. The COCKTAIL, Jen. I know where your mind went.

And it’s only day two. I’ll report back on the good times in a few days. I’m still recovering from my TSA cringefest right now.

M

Firing off the email, I crack open a new document, excited to start the Dating How Don’t list.

It’s the perfect tie-in with my Dr. Reality Check column. I can unleash so much fun and snark into it.

My email pings straight away, because apparently Jen has no life. Although I’m no different when I’m at home either—or now, considering I’m in paradise working instead of swimming, tanning, or fucking like most normal people would be.

Not that I can be fucking.