{"id":6761,"date":"2026-05-10T23:14:02","date_gmt":"2026-05-10T22:14:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/?p=6761"},"modified":"2026-05-12T10:20:24","modified_gmt":"2026-05-12T09:20:24","slug":"lighea-being-the-first-man-after-8-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/lighea-being-the-first-man-after-8-years\/","title":{"rendered":"Lighea &#8211; being the first man after 8 years"},"content":{"rendered":"<div style='text-align:center' class='yasr-auto-insert-visitor'><!--Yasr Visitor Votes Shortcode--><div id='yasr_visitor_votes_1356815065ca3' class='yasr-visitor-votes'><div class=\"yasr-custom-text-vv-before yasr-custom-text-vv-before-6761\">Click to rate this post!<\/div><div id='yasr-vv-second-row-container-1356815065ca3'\r\n                                        class='yasr-vv-second-row-container'><div id='yasr-visitor-votes-rater-1356815065ca3'\r\n                                      class='yasr-rater-stars-vv'\r\n                                      data-rater-postid='6761'\r\n                                      data-rating='0'\r\n                                      data-rater-starsize='24'\r\n                                      data-rater-readonly='false'\r\n                                      data-rater-nonce='57493fa7f2'\r\n                                      data-issingular='false'\r\n                                    ><\/div><div class=\"yasr-vv-stats-text-container\" id=\"yasr-vv-stats-text-container-1356815065ca3\"><svg xmlns=\"https:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" width=\"20\" height=\"20\"\r\n                                   class=\"yasr-dashicons-visitor-stats\"\r\n                                   data-postid=\"6761\"\r\n                                   id=\"yasr-stats-dashicon-1356815065ca3\">\r\n                                   <path d=\"M18 18v-16h-4v16h4zM12 18v-11h-4v11h4zM6 18v-8h-4v8h4z\"><\/path>\r\n                               <\/svg><span id=\"yasr-vv-text-container-1356815065ca3\" class=\"yasr-vv-text-container\">[Total: <span id=\"yasr-vv-votes-number-container-1356815065ca3\">0<\/span>  Average: <span id=\"yasr-vv-average-container-1356815065ca3\">0<\/span>]<\/span><\/div><div id='yasr-vv-loader-1356815065ca3' class='yasr-vv-container-loader'><\/div><\/div><div id='yasr-vv-bottom-container-1356815065ca3'\r\n                              class='yasr-vv-bottom-container'\r\n                              style='display:none'><\/div><\/div><!--End Yasr Visitor Votes Shortcode--><\/div><div class=\"wp-block-image is-style-rounded\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"523\" height=\"1024\" src=\"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-523x1024.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6764\" srcset=\"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-523x1024.png 523w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-153x300.png 153w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-768x1504.png 768w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-785x1536.png 785w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-1046x2048.png 1046w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-720x1410.png 720w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-580x1136.png 580w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-320x627.png 320w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-1320x2584.png 1320w, https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-scaled.png 1308w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 523px) 100vw, 523px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<p>Slender.<br\/>Fair complexion.<br\/>Straight hair falling gently along her shoulders.<br\/>A stroke of black eyeliner along her eyes, to elongate her gaze and make it more mysterious, almost Egyptian.<br\/>She sends me three photos.<br\/>First photo: a simple, decent red dress, worn in the hope of being liked.<br\/>Second photo: white jeans and a black top.<br\/>Third photo: a little black dress with lace embroidery, sensual yet rigorous.<br\/>In all three, she doesn&#8217;t look at the camera but at her phone while taking a mirror selfie.<br\/>She took them for me: to ask which of the three outfits to wear tonight, on our first date. My Tinder date tonight (the story is from a few months ago, before I met the Redhead).  <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #020202;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">A girl who\u2014instead of going out in the first outfit she finds\u2014asks your advice on what to wear is already a statistical anomaly in the civilization of automatic Tinder swiping.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n\n<p><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Wear the second one, the lace one<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Her<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">I agree<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<\/p>\n\n<p>Few essential communications. Little fluff. We write only what&#8217;s necessary to organize the logistics, leaving the pleasure of discovery for the meeting.<br\/>Location: a cocktail bar in Milan. She drives 40 minutes to get there. No request for an Uber. I offer to pick her up. She replies, &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">no need, I&#8217;ll come on my own<\/span><\/em>.&#8221;      <\/p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Here she comes: she&#8217;s wearing the agreed-upon dress and closed shoes (I don&#8217;t remember if they were combat boots or Dr. Martens). I always keep an eye on a woman&#8217;s footwear, mindful of what I read as a boy in a work by Freud. The father of psychoanalysis claimed that a woman sees her foot as a symbolic metaphor for the penis&#8230; Okay, we know the old pig well: he saw dicks everywhere&#8230; but every now and then he was onto something. Freud reads the choice of shoe as a revealing clue to the underlying sexuality: an open shoe, with a lot of skin on display, suggests a search for an encounter; an essential ballet flat, a natural, childlike sexuality; the stiletto heel, a more aggressive sexuality. And the combat boot?     Well, the combat boot can only suggest closure, a desire to keep sexuality as a hidden, problematic component to be suppressed. <\/span><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Shoes are the erotic CV publicly displayed: you walk inside your own sexuality every minute, without even knowing it<\/span><\/span><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">.<br\/><\/span><span style=\"color: #000000;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">This whole line of reasoning happens in my mind in less than half a second, as I<\/span> let my gaze fall on her footwear. And it concludes with a thought: Uncle Sigmund, what would you think of a man with over 70 pairs of shoes, 20 of them formal, but who always wears the same three? How would you describe the sexuality of a man who often dresses in total black but entrusts the distinctive mark of his style to brightly colored, flashy shoes, often with unusual shapes? And who carefully avoids wearing lace-up shoes&#8230; because he doesn&#8217;t like laces? Like the bowstring stretched taut by two increasingly distant ends, this tension is fascinating\u2014between the constant search for novelty in purchasing and the habitual nature of use; between the secret love for ceremony and its public denial, between the loud color and the understatement of the body.    <\/p>\n\n<p>But, <em>enough talk!<\/em>, I welcome my guest and escort her smiling to the sofa. She&#8217;s smiling but seems a bit tense. I point it out.  <\/p>\n\n<p><strong>Lighea<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">I&#8217;ll confess that you&#8217;re my first date<\/span><\/em>.&#8221;<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Of the week?<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Lighea<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Ever! I just got out of an 8-year relationship! <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">8 years? But you&#8217;re barely in your twenties! <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Lighea<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Yeah, I was in a relationship that lasted my entire adult life and even a few years of my teens. I&#8217;ve never actually dated, let alone used apps. I have no idea how it works!  <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<\/p>\n\n<p>I look at her in silence for a moment, pretending\u2014like a modern Atlas\u2014to have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Then I smile at her and in a warm, sincere tone I say: <\/p>\n\n<p>&#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">I&#8217;m honored that you chose me as your first date. It&#8217;s a big responsibility to be your first. You were right to tell me. I tend to be very direct, but I&#8217;ll take special care to look after you. If at any moment something bothers you, tell me    <\/span><\/em>.&#8221;<br\/>Still smiling, I deliver the disclaimer: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">and finally, we don&#8217;t have to end up in bed: it can very well be a light and fun chat<\/span><\/em>.&#8221;<br\/>Funny how every time I say this phrase, the girl ends up bent over on my sofa within 2 hours and 23 minutes<span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">.<\/span> <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">There&#8217;s probably a mathematical formula that still awaits its Riemann.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n<p>With genuine interest, I ask her about her previous relationship.<br\/>She tells me a bit about her ex&#8217;s absurd jealousy.<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">well, so if he knew you were here with me tonight he wouldn&#8217;t be happy<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Her<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">No, but don&#8217;t worry: he can&#8217;t do anything to you. He&#8217;s been deported. <\/span><\/em>&#8220;.<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">What, deported? And you&#8217;re telling me this, just like that, with all this nonchalance? <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Her<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">yeah, I wouldn&#8217;t know how else to say it<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Uhm, if I may offer some advice, maybe this is better not mentioned on a very first date. And\u2014pray tell\u2014what was he deported for? <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Her<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">assault out of jealousy<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">ah, assault out of jealousy! Uhm! Fantastic!  <\/span><\/em>&#8221; I look around, warily. &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Right, don&#8217;t mention that either!<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/>We laugh. <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">We laugh because otherwise we&#8217;d have to get up and leave; and neither of us has the slightest intention of doing so.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n<p>Despite being barely 20 years old, Lighea is an ancient, noble wine, with more structure than its dusty bottle might suggest. A bottle opened today, after just under 10 years resting in a dark, damp cellar.  <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">A Donnafugata forgotten at the back of the shelf in a wine bar that insisted on serving Prosecco to everyone.<\/span><\/span> I sense a tormented story, but I prefer not to be too direct in my questions: Lighea is a girl who wants to live, not a case to be pitied.<\/p>\n\n<p>With Lighea, everything is left unsaid. Everything is sub-communicated, inoculated, transmitted in the premises. I look into those dark eyes and read the shadow of untold stories, deep and certainly not simple experiences. In her, I see great dignity and great courage. And also a nice ass, which I grope almost immediately.    <\/p>\n\n<p>I tell her about myself. We laugh and loosen up. She asks if I&#8217;ll accompany her outside for a cigarette.<br\/>She sits on the low wall, legs wide, with her long skirt covering everything. While we talk about cigarettes, my hands slip under her skirt. Generous, they climb up her thighs, along the inside, and stop at the psoas (dear reader, you don&#8217;t know where the psoas is? That&#8217;s why you&#8217;re not getting laid! Study!). She keeps talking as if nothing&#8217;s happening, but her voice becomes warmer, the tone rises half an octave.<br\/>After a few seconds\u2014still while I&#8217;m talking\u2014my hands start moving again, rising a bit, descending a bit. Her gaze lights up, her dark little eyes ask me to go higher. I, Magnificently, pretend not to understand and keep talking.<br\/>Just long enough for her to get used to it, and quickly I climb toward the valley of Eden. I go straight, move her panties aside, and expertly place the pad of my index finger.        <br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">you&#8217;re soaking wet. Behind this expression of serene detachment, a little slut writhes eagerly <\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/><strong>Her<\/strong>, whispered: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #7a4cc4;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">YESSS!<\/span><\/em>&#8220;<br\/>Like the string violently stretching as the two ends of the bow pull apart, so the tension between our gazes exponentially rises.<br\/>With every breath.<br\/>With every half-word.<br\/>Normally I&#8217;d stay there talking, slow-cooking it, sometimes intensifying her pleasure, sometimes denying it. But she&#8217;s authentic, sincere, transparent, honest. And she desperately wants me inside her. And who am I to deny her?<br\/>I take her back inside, I don&#8217;t say anything to her, she grabs her things quickly and we rush to pay.<br\/>We leave the place heading toward my place.   <br\/><strong>Me<\/strong>: &#8220;<em><span style=\"color: #f00069;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">let&#8217;s pop by my place for five minutes, just to let you taste that wine I was telling you about, and then we&#8217;ll head back out<\/span><\/em>.&#8221;<br\/>Right, teaching moment for the young lads (you ladies, feel free to skip what follows).<\/p>\n\n<p>The journey between the bar and home is by far the most dangerous. Both know where it&#8217;s going and why.  But heaven forbid you be explicit: it kills the tension and triggers what, in the dating scene, is called LMR \u2014 Last Minute Resistance, also known as &#8220;Anti-Slut Defense.&#8221; <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #0f0e17;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">Mystery (yes, the one with the top hat and the Game) wrote half a manual on it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n<p>As much as I enjoy debunking the turbo-feminist theories of my friend Lella, it&#8217;s undeniable that society exerts tremendous pressure on female sexuality. Since time immemorial, female sexuality has been feared, opposed, and controlled.  Half a word or the wrong behavior was enough for a poor girl to end up ostracized, excluded, branded a slut, and her life ruined.<br\/>Today it&#8217;s no longer like that (perhaps we&#8217;re at the opposite extreme, in fact), but an atavistic memory of this remains in the collective unconscious and culture. <span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\" class=\"stk-highlight\">The paradox of modernity: the liberated woman who\u2014in order to give herself\u2014must still pretend not to want it. Three thousand years of the Bible, the Council of Trent, and mothers-in-law don&#8217;t shake off in two generations of MeToo. <\/span><\/span><br\/>Consequently, even though both want to fuck, being explicit at this moment often leads the woman to feel she appears too slutty and to blow everything up.<br\/>Especially with those moralistic men who spent the whole date complaining that women aren&#8217;t like they used to be&#8230; but I mean, are you stupid? I&#8217;m not saying do it like me (showing photos of my exes and challenging them not to be slutty enough to deserve me), but don&#8217;t cut off your own balls either.<br\/>So do like me, use a super obvious excuse (almost at the level of the butterfly collection) and you&#8217;ll see that as soon as you get home, she&#8217;ll jump on you like a sugar baby on the last Chanel bag on sale. <\/p>\n\n<p>Parenthesis closed, we can continue. (Okay, girls I told to skip this part&#8230; we know perfectly well you read everything! There&#8217;s no better way to make a woman do something than telling her not to do it, hehe). <\/p>\n\n<p>Anyway, you can imagine the rest: anal plug (first time, she says). Fucking on the sofa. A bit of passion and lots of cuddles.<br\/>While the whole body dances, from the pelvic floor to the sternocleidomastoid (&#8230; what, what is it? Boys, will you ever understand that you need to study!), I look at her.<br\/>I see her free, exploring, self-aware, entrusting herself to me like my accountant when he asks me for advice on how to pay less tax.<br\/>Now she&#8217;s happy. But I know what will happen. It will happen that while she&#8217;s going home she&#8217;ll feel a bit dirty. She won&#8217;t recognize herself for having let go so quickly. She&#8217;ll tell me I moved too fast. And she&#8217;ll project onto me what she was the one who wanted, as if it were my fault.<br\/>Like with <a href=\"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/tag\/sweetboobs\/\" data-type=\"post_tag\" data-id=\"115\">SweetTits<\/a>, remember? With the added complication that\u2014having just come out of a suffocating relationship\u2014she&#8217;ll feel the need to catch some air.<br\/>But Lighea is an intelligent and deep woman. I hope she comes back. After all, I&#8217;ve only shown her 1% of what we could explore together.          <\/p>\n\n<p>I drive her back and watch her disappear into the Milanese horizon.<\/p>\n\n<p>Two lives met.<\/p>\n\n<p>Two lives brushed against each other in an orgasm.<\/p>\n\n<p>Two lives moved apart.<\/p>\n\n<p>We&#8217;ll see.<\/p>\n<div style='text-align:center' class='yasr-auto-insert-visitor'><!--Yasr Visitor Votes Shortcode--><div id='yasr_visitor_votes_63758653c5a19' class='yasr-visitor-votes'><div class=\"yasr-custom-text-vv-before yasr-custom-text-vv-before-6761\">Click to rate this post!<\/div><div id='yasr-vv-second-row-container-63758653c5a19'\r\n                                        class='yasr-vv-second-row-container'><div id='yasr-visitor-votes-rater-63758653c5a19'\r\n                                      class='yasr-rater-stars-vv'\r\n                                      data-rater-postid='6761'\r\n                                      data-rating='0'\r\n                                      data-rater-starsize='24'\r\n                                      data-rater-readonly='false'\r\n                                      data-rater-nonce='57493fa7f2'\r\n                                      data-issingular='false'\r\n                                    ><\/div><div class=\"yasr-vv-stats-text-container\" id=\"yasr-vv-stats-text-container-63758653c5a19\"><svg xmlns=\"https:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" width=\"20\" height=\"20\"\r\n                                   class=\"yasr-dashicons-visitor-stats\"\r\n                                   data-postid=\"6761\"\r\n                                   id=\"yasr-stats-dashicon-63758653c5a19\">\r\n                                   <path d=\"M18 18v-16h-4v16h4zM12 18v-11h-4v11h4zM6 18v-8h-4v8h4z\"><\/path>\r\n                               <\/svg><span id=\"yasr-vv-text-container-63758653c5a19\" class=\"yasr-vv-text-container\">[Total: <span id=\"yasr-vv-votes-number-container-63758653c5a19\">0<\/span>  Average: <span id=\"yasr-vv-average-container-63758653c5a19\">0<\/span>]<\/span><\/div><div id='yasr-vv-loader-63758653c5a19' class='yasr-vv-container-loader'><\/div><\/div><div id='yasr-vv-bottom-container-63758653c5a19'\r\n                              class='yasr-vv-bottom-container'\r\n                              style='display:none'><\/div><\/div><!--End Yasr Visitor Votes Shortcode--><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Click to rate this post! [Total: 0 Average: 0] Slender.Fair complexion.Straight hair falling gently along her shoulders.A stroke of black eyeliner along her eyes, to elongate her gaze and make it more mysterious, almost Egyptian.She sends me three photos.First photo: a simple, decent red dress, worn in the hope of being liked.Second photo: white jeans [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6765,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[26],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6761","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-report"],"featured_image_urls_v2":{"full":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-scaled.png",1308,2560,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-150x150.png",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-153x300.png",153,300,true],"medium_large":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-768x1504.png",720,1410,true],"large":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-523x1024.png",523,1024,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-785x1536.png",785,1536,true],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-1046x2048.png",1046,2048,true],"typology-cover":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-scaled.png",1308,2560,false],"typology-a":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-720x1410.png",720,1410,true],"typology-b":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-580x1136.png",580,1136,true],"typology-c":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-320x627.png",320,627,true],"mailpoet_newsletter_max":["https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Gemini_Generated_Image_5pugdq5pugdq5pug-clean-1320x2584.png",1320,2584,true]},"post_excerpt_stackable_v2":"<p>Click to rate this post! [Total: 0 Average: 0] Slender.Fair complexion.Straight hair falling gently along her shoulders.A stroke of black eyeliner along her eyes, to elongate her gaze and make it more mysterious, almost Egyptian.She sends me three photos.First photo: a simple, decent red dress, worn in the hope of being liked.Second photo: white jeans and a black top.Third photo: a little black dress with lace embroidery, sensual yet rigorous.In all three, she doesn&#8217;t look at the camera but at her phone while taking a mirror selfie.She took them for me: to ask which of the three outfits to wear&hellip;<\/p>\n","category_list_v2":"<a href=\"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/category\/report\/\" rel=\"category tag\">Report<\/a>","author_info_v2":{"name":"MagniFico","url":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/author\/magnifico\/"},"comments_num_v2":"0 comments","yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6761","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6761"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6761\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6798,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6761\/revisions\/6798"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6765"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6761"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6761"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tiredofboys.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6761"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}