The Broad's Side

I know that it probably seems like I talk about penises a lot, but they seem to keep rearing their ugly heads. No pun intended. Ok… maybe the pun was intended. Personally, I think they’re fairly funny looking, but it certainly amuses me when someone thinks I want to see a picture of one. It’s always at really weird times too. Once, I received a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ text at 10 am, immediately followed by a junk shot. Not exactly what one would expect.

I think my problem might be that I’m far too analytical. I have a ridiculous eye for detail, which doesn’t lend itself well to soft core, homemade porn sent via I-Phone. For instance, a former boyfriend sent me a picture of his unit one Sunday afternoon with a racy message. Right off the bat, I thought that the lighting looked off. The penis shaped shadow on the wall didn’t make sense for high noon. Also, it was pretty nice out, and I found it odd that he was wearing wool socks and flannel boxers. My gut told me to request a follow-up photo. He obliged within minutes. A-ha! Just as I’d anticipated, he was using stock self-porn! In the second one, he was wearing jeans and some asinine looking Crocs. There was a Gatorade on the dresser that hadn’t been there before. Bastard! I must have played this bizarre version of Penis Photo Hunt for a good 20 minutes.

When I asked when the photos were taken, he insisted that both were real time. Seriously? The nerve of this guy to insult my intelligence! He was recycling images he’d obviously sent to other women and didn’t have the balls to fess up when called out. I quizzed him on the probability of snapping a photo, changing outfits and shoes and running to the fridge for a grape Gatorade before taking another… all within two minutes. I insisted that the next time he thought to send me a dick pic, It had better be slapped down smack in the middle of the current day’s Plain Dealer Metro section. He became extremely agitated and inquired as to why I’m such a bitch. What? How am I the asshole in this scenario?

I’ll admit I sent him a few pictures while we were together. They just weren’t of me. He’d always ask for nudie shots, so I’d pull one off the internet. He never specified they should be photos of me. That’s clearly his fault. I can hardly be expected to interrupt my busy evening of drinking $3.00 wine straight from the bottle to get my ass off the couch for a make-shift photo shoot. The nerve of some people! I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before he has a few too many cocktails and fires off another cock shot. I’m sure he’s learned nothing and there will be a Christmas tree or some other tell- tale sign of his deception lurking in the background. The suspense is killing me.