7. I Don’t Want to See Your D***…

I understand that a guy’s penis is his prized possession.  You grab it, scratch it, compare it, and do most of your thinking with it.  I get it.  It’s an important part of any man’s identity.  Let me, however, provide a little service announcement.  Gentlemen, you may love your penis, but I believe that I represent the majority of the female population when I say… we do NOT want to see your d***.  So please, spare us your dick pics, at least until we have decided that your personality is good enough for us to overlook the fact that you have a disappointing penis.

99% of the time, your dicktures are unwarranted.  Unless we have specifically asked you to show us your goodies, we do NOT need our eyeballs burned all the way to our souls.  It is not attractive.  A picture of you in your boxers turns me on wayyyy more than your creepy looking one-eyed willy.  For some reason, guys think this is an okay thing to do, and that we will be so turned on by these pictures we become completely inhibited and enamored.  Not the case, my friends.  Allow me to introduce the lumberjack.

I started talking to this guy who looked like a lumberjack.  He was tall, dark, muscular, and had a thick and glorious beard of which most men can only dream.  We talked online for a solid two weeks before we decided to exchange phone numbers.  We texted several times, and our conversations were never sexual.  He said that he was interested in a real connection with someone.  Since he never asked to see my boobs (which is commonplace, believe me), I assumed – or hoped – that he was genuine.  And then it happened…the inevitable.  I woke up one morning, and saw I had a text message from the lumberjack.  Excited that he was thinking of me in the middle of the night, I opened the message.  To my shock and horror, it was not what I had hoped.  My eyes started bleeding, my corneas caught on fire, my soul vomited.  He had sent me a picture of his dick.  And not only did he send me a picture, he had put a Gillette shaving can next to it to show me comparison in size.  Hell yes he did.  In case you are wondering, he was bigger than the can of shaving cream.  What in the actual hell was this guy thinking?  I expressed my displeasure and he apologized.  However, that ended any chance he had of ever meeting me.  Game over.

I was talking on the phone to another guy.  He wanted me to send a picture of myself, but, believe it or not, I don’t like taking selfies.  In order to make me feel more comfortable, he offered to send me a picture first.  As we were talking, his text came through and I looked down to read it.  I bet you’ll never guess what it was!  It was a picture of his penis.  I know, you’re shocked, right?  I hope you read that statement as sarcastic as I wrote it.  How in the HELL is a picture of your frank and beans going to make me more comfortable?  I really don’t even know what more to say about that incident.

What’s almost as horrifying as a dickture, is when you try to describe it to me.  I was texting yet another winner from Tinder (again, nothing sexual whatsoever).  One day he sends me a text and asks me if I liked night sex or morning sex better.  As not to appear like a prude, but to keep the conversation from taking any wrong turns, I simply said “I like night because I don’t like morning breath”.  By the way, if my dad is reading this, I’m a virgin.  Nonetheless, this creep show responds back.  DISCLAIMER:  This next part is graphic.  If you don’t want to read it, move to the end.  He texts “I like morning sex, because there is nothing better than sliding my hard, veiny cock, over your BLEEP BLEEP!”  I’m pretty sure I had a seizure from the uncontrollable convulsions of vomiting.  Then he says “I’m sorry, did I go too far?”  Um, let’s look at it this way.  If I was in in Florida, you’d be in Mars – that’s how far you went.

I’ve had so many pictures of boners and male genitalia thrown at my way, I actually have to have a disclaimer before I take a conversation off line.  When they ask for my number, I tell them that if I receive any dicktures, their life will be over.  Also, if you refer to your member as throbbing, veiny, or pulsating, I’m probably going to vomit even more.  I might even decide to kill you. Here’s a thought – how about you try to woo me with your intelligence, and not your penis (because I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to use it anyway).