I'm not sure if I'm blowing this out of proportion but, I'm sensing a growing trend here with the gentlemen of this age and their overzealous desire to send someone, anyone, pictures of their dicks. Maybe because pictures have become readily available at the touch of a button, or maybe because they actually believe somewhere in their minds that penises are attractive. But really, what the hell, guys?
The other month (I know I'm totally behind on blogging and I'm truly sorry about that) I went out to a bar with my best friend, Britt. A guy approached me and started a conversation. He was an alright looking fella, intelligent in thought and not stingy with the drink buying which always helps when you're a single woman paying bills. We must've chatted for about forty minutes and then parted ways. While I held my conversation with him, Britt played wingwoman by talking to his less-than-attractive friend, who was very persistent in getting her number even though she told him she was married and not interested in any men that were not her husband (a lie, of course).
The next morning when we woke up for brunch Britt was all, “You have to see this.”
Me: What is it?
Britt: The guy from last night sent me a picture of his ding dong.
Me: How do you know it was the guy from last night.
Britt: Because it’s an unknown number and a huge coincidence that I gave my number to a complete stranger to then get this on my phone the morning after.
Me: What did it say?
Britt: Nothing. I just opened up my phone and bam! Dick pic.
Me: Christ. What'd you say to him?
Britt: "Um... Who is this?" And you want to know what his reply was? “Sorry, wrong number.”
It was unsettling to me that morning just how hilarious I found this to be. How do you say “wrong number” after sending something like that to someone you don't know? But I’m guessing the more pressing question is, would it still have been a wrong number had Britt replied with, “Gimme that sausage!”
A few weeks later we went to the Blue Zombie and I confess to having exchanged numbers that evening with one too many fellows I hardly remember speaking to. Before I’d crossed over to the dark side though, I had a convo by the bar with a cute Cuban dude that kept insisting we should “go to breakfast.” Maybe he just really liked pancakes or was a coffee aficionado, but I agreed in my tipsy rage knowing good and well I’d never attempt to see him again. The next morning, Cuban dude texted me to find out if we were going to breakfast. I told him I was tired and had a nail appointment so “maybe tomorrow.” Ten minutes later he asks me to send him a picture, which I promptly ignore and resume my TV marathon. Soon after I receive a picture of him, shirtless, in front of the bathroom mirror.
Nice, I thought, and still ignored his dumb ass.
Eight hours later this animal texts me yet again with, “Guess not." You can guess what I did.
My cell had a barrage of messages the following morning from friends wanting to know about my Super Bowl plans that evening. I only replied to my nearest and dearest letting them know I hated football and intended to sleep all day, allowing the rest to float in text message limbo. Two days later - because I am OCD - I began to clean up the text message conversations from all the people who’d filled up my phone that Sunday, when I saw an unread message from Cuban dude. When I open, there it is, a picture of his inflated penis, which he was holding proudly like a sword called to battle. Of course I texted Britt to share that this time it’d been my turn to be on the receiving end of this virtual catastrophe.
Me: I just got a dick pic from Cuban dude.
Britt: The guy who wanted to take you to breakfast?
Me: Yes. That douche.
Britt: Had you asked for it?
Me: Um, no!
Britt: Was it big, at least?
Me: It was huge. Disgusting.
Britt: Ha ha. Stop pretending like you didn't want to see it.
Me: I *do not* want to see that. It's not pleasant to look at. Why would anyone think otherwise?
Britt: Well, what did he say?
Me: Drum roll please... “Morning wood.”
Britt: Oh God. Forward it to me.
Me: Ew. I deleted it, you creeper.
Britt: You should’ve posted it on your blog.
This is the part where I apologize for not saving the picture to post here but I’m certain that like me, no one wants to see that. I asked my guy friends about this odd behavior and they said it’s a hit or miss situation that happens quite often. “Nine out of ten times it doesn't work,” one offered sheepishly, "but there's always that one. So if you didn’t take the bait, some desperate chick out there did.”
And so whenever someone else asks me why I'm single, I will direct them to this blog post and accept no further questions about my relationship status. Ever. Again.