What Kind of a Girl Does He Think I Am?

by Sarah on May 7, 2011

It’s funny how things come together (if you’ll forgive the pun).

First, there’s the idiot posting comments on the blog, seemingly convinced I’m a computer. He doesn’t own my book, nor either of my MP3s… yet he seems to think he has some claim on my time and I should put his mind at rest and ensure his future happiness.

WTF?

What does his happiness have to do with me?

And then there’s the fellow who has emailed me wanting a picture before, and then this morning says:

Since you did ask for requests, I am almost ready to buy.  Just waiting for a pic of you to close the deal.  That would mean in this case it does help make a sale”

Well, you know, since I’m not a whore, and I’m not desperate for the money or even in it for the money… so you’re going to be waiting for a long time.

In other, less ladylike terms… piss off.

Because I find the suggestion — and by extension you, personally — quite distasteful and I don’t want your money (the amusing thing is there is a picture of me out there if you but knew where it was — and many of my readers have seen it).

You see, while I quite unashamedly sell something (oh, how bloody evil of me, asking for fair compensation for the time I’ve put in to writing the book and recording the MP3s), money isn’t and never has been the driving force here.

If it was, I’d be forever doing “deals”, I wouldn’t be offering a lifetime guarantee, and I’d be pandering to offensive pricks like Messrs Show Me a Picture and I’ll Buy and Prove You’re Not a Computer.

Fact is… Be Careful What You Wish For is renowned for being quite simply the best book out there on the subject of male chastity. Or check out my equally renowned free guide and tease and denial book.

You don’t have to take my word for it — ask around. Google it. See what Ms Lori said about it. See what Astrid Mende of NeoSteel said about it.

Hell if you have it already, post your feedback about it.

Buy it, or don’t buy it. I don’t care.

I don’t beg for sales and I don’t wrestle pigs.

And I certainly don’t whore out photographs of myself for sad bastards to wank over in the hope of making a few bucks.

Vile little man.

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