Cabins for the 2017 New Kids on the Block Cruise are selling fast, admittedly, mostly to women reliving their glory days of boyband-loving and carefree bopping. Some of them bring their husbands, some of them leave everything about their real life behind, but all of them come to escape and to be a huge dork of a fan with three thousand other huge fan dorks. It’s a safe space. Except if there’s a selfie on the table, obviously. Then it’s every woman for herself. I’ll cut a bitch–I mean, a Blockhead Sister.
However, there are a few single (presumably straight) men who have caught wind of the idea of a boat full of hormonally charged women, hoping to get near one of five famous guys for 4 days straight, and they’ve taken advantage. It’s mostly innocuous, like my friends the Scots. Sure, I assumed they were sexual predators at first, but they were nothing but nice to me and never even tried to touch my boobs. They just talked to me like I was a human person. You know, because I am. But there was another gruesome twosome. The “Firemen”. Oh, the firemen. I’m sure you remember them stirring up lady-boners in the Cruise-groups on Facebook, by simply posting that they are in fact single men who will be on the cruise. The frenzy is understandable. In an isolated situation, even if you’re Patton Oswalt’s literal twin, you can catch some V. Because there’s no context. If you’re an attainable single man surrounded by women who have been squirming in their boyband-adjacent seats for three days, you’re gonna clean up.
Unless you’re a disgusting asshole, like our pal Tim (the short one). Because. We’re women first and foremost. Sure, we’re fangirls. We’re a little crazy. I’ll admit that. But we are humans who have every right not to like you. You are not guaranteed a vagina just because you paid money to be a cougar-hunter. It’s not a safari. It’s a niche-fandom chartered cruise, you fucking douche. Yeah. I’m switching it up and speaking right to you now. Because it seems like you have a lot of anger toward women. You know, like someone who feels entitled to women’s bodies has. It’s called rejection-rage. And it’s a particularly scary form of misogyny. Because, as you like to remind people constantly, you’re a former Marine, right? And a firefighter. So, you must have a ton of muscled power underneath your generic “bro” wardrobe, right? So, you could theoretically hurt us, if you really wanted to, right? Which it seems like you do.
You post a lot of angry things about women. Or so I’ve heard. I’m not friends with you on Facebook, thank god. But that’s because my profile picture failed to lift your dick while you were scrolling through, jotting down serial killer notes about who you were for sure going to nail on the ship, right? Right. It’s cool, man. I’m not for everyone. And certainly not for you. But I know a few women you DID jot down and contact prior to the cruise. And I also know that those women did not actually fuck you. I’m sure you must be so hurt and confused about that. Especially while your friend basically just had to walk through a group of girls and could end up with three unwanted pregnancies. You had to actually try. And you failed. Hard. A lifetime of that has to be pretty rough on a guy. But the thing is. That’s not our fault. It’s yours. You literal troll.
I’m not sure what your background is, or what trials and tribulations you’ve had to overcome as an affluent, straight white male in America (must be tough), but obviously you haven’t had access to proper education, so allow me to break a few things down for you. First, it’s 2017. I feel like you aren’t sure in which decade you’re living because of the “most girls bang on the first date” comment. I sometimes bang without a date. What a slut, right? But you know, I guess it’s because I like sex but don’t generally like the company of men. I wonder why that is? Maybe it’s because fuckboys like you refer to us as if we’re a species of domesticated animal. In heat? Really? And, please, for my own peace of mind, which sexual organs are you referring to? The ones that are at “max stimulation”, that is. I can assure you I’m not walking around with an engorged clitoris at the mere prospect of new NKOTB opportunities. And even if I were (Ed Sheeran has gotten me there this week, not going to lie) that has absolutely nothing to do with you or whoever it is you’re “schooling” via your Trump-esque Facebook posts, you thin-skinned delusional narcissist.
So, my little Trump-dicked friend, I’ll be using all my energy to send into the universe to hope upon hope that you are stupid enough to strut onto that boat again this year. Do it. Because I’ll be there. And I fucking dare you.