Takes a Lickin', Keeps on Tickin'

Luck and Timing.

This phrase is the fucking words daters live by nowadays. Maybe it's always been this way, but I cannot tell you the number of times people told me this.

"It's all about luck Doozy"

"Eh...it all comes down to timing."

"When you stop looking is when you'll find someone Doozy. TRUST ME ON THIS."

Ahhh, of course all these people are either married or coupled. And if one more person says something like that to me, I swear to Cthulhu, I'll stick them in the fucking neck with a fork.

Cuz, that shit is HARD.

The Tale of Farkus the Mensch.  

Farkus was an early Doozy, way back in 2011, maybe? I met him not too long after Bubba The One Who Started It All, cuz I'm not one to let a schmuck keep me down. I met Farkus on Match.com, because, again I hadn't realized what a douche magnet that site was at the time.

Here's the thing though

FARKUS WAS DIFFERENT.

  

Farkus wasn't a douchebag.

Not even an idiot.

Just broken.

Let me splain'.

Farkus messaged me on Match and we immediately seemed to hit it off. He had three kids, a sexy shaved head and a self effacing sense of humor. Farkus was even a bacon eating Jew - which I found endearing and Farkus found hysterical.

Y'all know about my bacon fetish.

Farkus was...

Sweet.

He brought me flowers on one date, he pushed me up against a parking lot wall and kissed me another time (hot!), and we both liked Thai food.

But.

And here's the mutha-fucking-but people

Cuz, you know there always is one.

Farkus had been married for like a bajillion years, and it had turned out that his ex-wife had cheated on him the ENTIRE time they had been married.

THAT EPIC TWAT.

And, his ex had left Farkus for a fuckwad that she had cheated on Farkus with. So, putting on my little armchair psych hat for a second; I think that all those years of betrayal had left Farkus a bit emasculated? Gun-shy (bit of an understatement)? And scared as hell to get hurt again. Again, in reality he shouldn't have been dating.

Regardless, he treated me well and... I liked him.

We laughed a lot, the sex was good and we went on interesting dates. We had great chemistry.

Eventually, Farkus and I even agreed that we were only going to date each other.

I know right?

HOLY SHIT!

Hark the Herald Fucking Angels Sing Dudes.

Hanukkah came and went. I bought Farkus and his kids little Hanukkah gifts. He taught me how to make Matzo ball soup - things seemed to be going well.

Except.

Yep. There's the except.

Dammit.

There was a part of Farkus that just couldn't...get there. The emotional part. Oh Farkus liked me enough, but intuitively, I just knew that he wasn't ever going to LOVE me. And that's a deal-breaker for me people.

He was just too broken.

Things finally came to an end sometime in January of 2012, when Farkus suddenly went dark, for reasons I still to this day don't know about. Fear probably.

He didn't call, didn't text. Was suddenly "busy" with his daughter's sudden birthday party.

Right.

Okay.

Sure.

Because apparently planning an eight year old's birthday party is like planning a fucking state dinner. Hope there were deviled eggs, cuz those are the shit. And everyone knows you should always have deviled eggs at any self respecting state dinner. With paprika. Spicy!

But I digress...

Here's the thing - my gut is rarely wrong, or it wasn't back then. Like when shit is really going down - my intuition flares up like a goddamn supernova and my gut was telling me that Farkus was running. 

BECAUSE

SCARED

MEN

ALWAYS

RUN

By now, I'd already known from Bubba how this was going to go down. Farkus was sweet, but gutless. 

He wasn't going to break it off with me.

Nope.

Farkus was going to ignore me until I went away. Or behave in such a way that I would get fed up enough and break-up with him. Come on dude. We weren't 4th graders, man up, take responsibility for your emotions and do the right thing. But no. That wasn't what was going to happen here. Farkus was going to make me break up with him.

OH
FUCK
ME 

Okay, so my bravado is one thing. I was angry at Farkus for making ME break up with HIM, when he was the one with the issues, not me. I never knew what went wrong, why he just stopped,  or what-ever-the-loving-fuck happened and I let Farkus know that he should be sorry for that. And he was. Farkus was very sorry. But still. In the end, I was the one with the ladyballz to end it. Quick.

BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE.

But really? Deep down? I was...sad.

FINE! I said it.
I didn't show it - the sadness, I never do. But I felt it. Oh yeah, it was there.

Because like I said up top, Farkus wasn't a douche, he didn't treat me in a callous, disrespectful way, at least not on purpose. I never felt, even in the end like I was a notch on his bedpost. Farkus just wasn't going to fall in love with me, and I wasn't going to waste anymore of my life on men who didn't love me. Been there. Done that. And as we know about me...I wasn't dating to just waste my time. Love was my endgame, and I would walk away if it wasn't there.

I am nothing, if not goal oriented.
 
I still, to this day feel that Farkus just didn't have the emotional wherewithal to know what the fuck to do with a girl like me: open, emotional, honest, affectionate and a little on the spazzy side. 

I suspect, many years and many dates later, most men don't.

Who knows. I gave up trying to figure it all out a long time ago. The giving up though - the...coming to the conclusion that Farkus just wasn't going to get there, like so, so, so many other men..was...just...heartbreaking to me.
And really. How many times can I expect myself to get down before I just say 
FUCK IT.
Exactly.

I do know this, however.

Unlike so many other men I came in contact with, who when I think of them I either shrug or guffaw or laugh them off as the fucking idiots they were, when I think of Farkus, I pause...and...I hope...he is doing well. Wherever Farkus is out there in the world, I hope he isn't broken anymore.

He's was a Mensch. And he deserves happiness.

There James. That nice enough for ya? ;-)

As always, thanks for reading! Please leave comments, your own stories or thoughts - I love those!

- Doozy

If You Like Pina Coladas...

Saw Guardians of the Galaxy this weekend. BEST.SOUNDTRACK.EVER...check out the shirt

Mistakes.
Holy shitballs Batman
Can I talk to you about mistakes?

When I was dating, I made absolute truckloads of them; it's why I am writing here this day. See, when I first started online dating, way back in the Mesozoic Era, I had no clue what I was doing, how to do it, or how to behave. I was a complete and total spaz.
ALL
THE
SPAZES.

So, grab some popcorn children, sit down and let me tell you a little story.

The Tale of Bubba-The One Who Started it All

Oh, where to start with Bubba. Right, the beginning.
I had just started on Match.com, I mean literally not been on that site more than an hour when Bubba the One Who Started it All messaged me. Hell, my profile wasn't even complete.
To say I was I excited would be the understatement of the Universe people.
Bubba had a cute picture, a clever profile and he was complimentary of my limited (and looking back, really shitty) profile pictures.

I was into it.
Like, you know when you see puppies and they are super excited to see you and their whole butts start wiggling and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen because they are just vibrating?
THAT
WAS
ME

  I WAS VIBRATING FOR FUCK SAKES.

So, Bubba and I chatted for quite a while on Match. And honk my hooter if we didn't have a ton in common! We were both the same astrological sign, we both loved pizza, yadda yadda yadda...you've seen this before.The list seemed to go on and on.

Peoples, you can imagine how all my ladybits just strummed when Bubba shortly asked me out on a date. A REAL DATE. WITH A REAL, LIVE MAN.

PENIS.
PENIS.
PENIS.
PENIS.

It had been years since I had been on a date with a man. Shit, by that point my ladybits were so dusty and unused that investors could have redeveloped the space into a roller rink.

But I digress...

My friend Meg was excited, shit everyone I told was excited for me. This was a big deal in my life. 
Doozy was back in the game.

When Bubba and I met at a trendy local pizza place on a crisp fall afternoon, I was nervous beyond belief. I wasn't going to be my normal spastic self. I wasn't going to ramble. I wasn't going to laugh to much, or cock my head to the right, or talk with my hands. I wasn't going to be my smart, nerdy self.
I was going to be light
Airy
Fun
Okay, I'm all those things anyways, but basically I was going to pretend to be someone else for awhile. I mean, that's what all the dating articles say women should do (because they're written assholes and idiots - just a little pro tip people).

Ahhh, Bubba was even cuter in person. Charming, funny and we seemed to have instant chemistry. The conversation flowed effortlessly and for hours as we scarfed down pizza. 
So me, being naive about dating in general, but especially ONLINE dating immediately jumped to this conclusion:

OMG
IT'S
MEANT
TO 
BE

Bubba walked me to my car and kissed me. The first man who did so in years. Remember the roller rink people. And wow, it was something.

For the next two weeks Bubba and I were in almost constant contact. We talked about all sorts of things. We went out a second time and ate spicy wings, had long phone conversations in to the wee hours of the night. And I discovered some things that I should have seen as red flags at the time:

1. Bubba was in recovery. Which in and of itself isn't a flag. EXCEPT he was actively going through the steps again because he was in grief counseling over the loss of his mom from three years before. Yep. You read that right...three years before.
AND
2. Bubba was also actively grieving the loss of a woman who had broken up with him three months earlier.
Three was apparently a thing for Bubba.

OH 
FUCK
MY
LIFE

No, it's okay..I'll let you guys take a moment to finish laughing or wipe up the soda you spit out of your mouth just then. 
Yeah, I really have been pretty stupid in my man-trials in the past.

Here's the thing. Back then, I was sure that Bubba and I had a 
C
O
N
N
E
C
T
I
O
N

Some cosmic, universal fucking Tao and the art of love, meta thing going on, and I didn't know any better. I was so wrapped up in the feelings, RIGHT IN THE FEELS PEOPLE that I didn't see at first just how broken and damaged Bubba was.

And this was the pièce de résistance of my short encounter with Bubba the One Who Started it All. Everything came to a head (I SAID HEAD.I'm 12 sometimes. Deal with it.) when my feels got out over my skis and I started using normal, adult, human language like;
"I like you"
AND
"I interested in where this is going"

And  Bubba completely freaked the fuck out. No, I mean he REALLY freaked the fuck out. 
As in:
"I'm sorry Doozy, I just can't give you what you want right now."
AND
"I have a lot going on in my life right now and I just have to focus on all that."

I wasn't saying I wanted Bubba to stick a ring on it or telling him was picking out goddamn china patterns, just that I liked him. If a middle-aged man on a dating site gets freaked out when a middle-aged woman who he's been sexing/chatting up hardcore for two weeks freaks out when she says something like that

THEN 
HE 
SHOULDN'T
BE 
DATING

See, here's the thing. And I ran into this again and again and HOLY-HELL-ON-A-JELLY-DONUT AGAIN when I was dating... We weren't in the second grade, where telling a boy that you liked him equated a tin promise ring or eating lunch and sharing your sammich with him for the rest of the year. 
Nope.
As if guys. Come on.
But over and over, I witnessed grown ass men reduced to  fucking lumps of putty when I uttered three little words like "I like you" or "You're cool". Men who say they are "looking for a relationship" and go on several dates shouldn't get freaked out when a woman says she likes him.

Christ. That's not a hard concept gentlemen.
Go buy a fleshlight, get some therapy then we'll talk

Then I figured it out.  It took me a loooooooooooooooooooooooooong time to realize that probably a lot of those guys DID want to hear a woman say she liked them.
Just not me.
Yeah. 
Whatever.
Fuck off and move on.
 
However, this is is my attitude NOW, after years of heartache and disappointment. Okay, okay...I always had a hard time with the rejection, I admit it. For the most part, though, I learned to brush it off and consider the men I was dealing with. Neanderthals and troglodytes. Toss up really...

But Doozy back then was really hurt and confused by Bubba's rejection and backpedaling. I was just so sure we had a connection, that there was something t-h-e-r-e. After two weeks. Seriously Doozy. I laugh now thinking back to how overly emotional I was about the whole thing.

I fell victim to one of the classic blunders - the most famous of which is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this: "never go against Doozy when her heart is on the line...". I fell into the mistaken trap of thinking that my womanly charms were so amazing that this dating thing was going to be easy. That it wasn't going to take any time at alll to find a good, decent man. That the men out there were smart enough to see a good thing, a great catch, when she was standing in front of them.

I was wrong.
I was a complete moron.

My friend Meg helped me write a kiss-my-ass text to Bubba because I just didn't know what to say or how to say it. It was an awesome fuck off, but deep down it felt pretty hollow. Because I did like Bubba - damage and all, I didn't know any better at that point. And off into the wilds Bubba went. I was left to lick my wounds and slowly, oh so slowly my dating cynicism over the years was born.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE

Come on people, there's always more.
This is how I roll.

So get this.
A couple weeks ago I get this email from my LinkedIn account. I'm never on LinkedIn, cuz I think it's sort of a stupid site. But whatever. And there's a request for a connection from someone I do not know.
I trudge on over to LinkedIn and I shit you not...it's Bubba -The One Who Started it All.

I recognized his picture after a couple minutes of frantically searching my mental Rolodex, but not his name. Because, well. I'm. Not. A. Fucking. Psycho. And I don't keep a list of the men I've gone on dates with. But you know, I wish now that I had. It would make writing this a lot easier if I'd kept a list.

But I digress...

It has been years since I've seen, heard or even thought about the Bubba. Which begs the question, how does Bubba remember me OR MY NAME? Why? Why would he seek me out when we don't have anything in common professionally or in any other way?
Wait, that was several questions. But the universe is officially fucking with me now.

Okay though, I can play.
You weirdo.
I accepted him.
Mostly because I'm curious to see if he contacts me, if there's a story there, or what the hell is up with THIS weird twist.
I suspect the answer is POONTANG. Doosh.
Because I'm cynical sometimes now, but curious. Born from the fires of online disappoint and lies.
I could be wrong, but I doubt it.
And if I am, I'm buying you all a drink..

As always thanks for reading and please leave comments. Have a doozy of your own? Feel free to share!

-Doozy

Boys In The Band Ordered Boat Drinks

So, ya know I'm not a big drinker. Never have been. I don't have any moral objection to it order anything, it's just never been my jam. Plus, I'm an uber boring drunk - like "oh hey, let's just prop Doozy up in the corner now and let her look at the shadows on the ceiling. Well, this sucks." kinda drunk. I'm much more fun sober.

Y'all can just imagine my total lack of surprise when I came upon a date once who was stark raving wasted when I got there. Annnd, it all went downhill from there.

But at least there was bacon.

The Tale of Hooch the Hoppy Boy

Come with me now people, back to a simpler time. A time of warm summer breezes, chirping birds and romance in the air. Yes...go there. Float on with the thought of lovely clouds and let Doozy's dulcet voice fill your senses.
Easy like Sunday morning people. That's me..

Okay, fuck that. 
This isn't about that. We all know that wasn't my dating experience.
The time was summer 2012. And I met Hooch on one of the douche dating sites...let's say OkCupid (douche du' jour as it may be). He was attractive, had your standard OKC profile - ran marathons, liked sushi, had a motorcycle, had traveled to 8 countries and was looking for a "partner in crime"..well you get the picture. Hey, give a girl a break, by 2012 my standards were low: had a job, a penis, no criminal record and a car.
DON'T JUDGE.

Moving on...

We chatted for awhile and Hooch seemed normal. I know, I know, I'm always saying "seemed normal". I should just start saying..so-and-so didn't seem like a raging, lying, douchecanoe, or so-and-so seemed like he was from THIS solar system and not Alpha Centauri. But that seems like asking a wee bit too much, no? This IS the online dating world after all.

But I digress...

Anyhoozle, we decided to meet up at a local bar and grill for happy hour. I was running a bit late because I had to drop by home first and check on the spawn child and get him situated then there was traffic, so I texted Hooch to let him know I might be a few minutes late.

"No problem at all. I'll be waiting at the bar."

I rushed across town, checked myself in the mirror and scrambled inside. The place was packed, since this was a downtown joint, not a suburban b&g like I was usually going to. Trendy young professionals lined the place, hot political junkies and cynical older syncophants took up space everywhere. Then I spied Hooch leaning over the bar, empty seat next to him.

Walking over, I immediately noticed the empty highball in front of him and another full glass of amber liquid in his hand.
Hooch turned and looked at me when I walked up smiling and introduced myself; and it took a minute for the recognition to hit. Not totally uncommon on a first date, but we HAD exchanged pictures just earlier in the day. So....?
"HOLY SHIT! YOU'RE FUCKING HOT!" He exclaimed, before I even had my purse all the way draped over my chair.
"Um...thanks." I guffawed. We continued exchanging introductions and pleasantries as I ordered an iced tea. Hooch found that hysterical.
"Not a drinker huh?"
"I'm not a huge drinker no. Plus I have to drive tonight."
"That's why I love this place. I live just a few blocks from here. So I can walk..more happy hour!"

DANGER
WILL
FUCKING
ROBINSON

Since the place was so busy, we ended up ordering food at the bar. And Hooch kept drinking, hard stuff. 
So here's the thing, I know different people can hold their liquor differently, and Hooch was a big guy. Not fat, but big...bulky. But holy crapballs Batman, he was knocking back Scotch like water. In the time it took me to down two iced teas he had already sucked down four highballs.
And Hooch was well on his way to a major hangover by the time our dinner had arrived.

It was getting more and more difficult to carry on a conversation with Hooch also. He was certainly...loose (paraphrasing here, since I don't remember specifics, but this is pretty close).
ME: "So, what do you like to do for fun?"
HC: "Chase women. Softball leagues. Rafting. Chase women."
ME: "Heh....erm..I see...um.. What else?"
HC: "Happy hours. Gosh you're hot."

FOR.
FUCK.
SAKES.

As if Hooch getting sloshed wasn't bad enough. Here's what pushed me over the edge from having a standard bad date into a ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME? date:

At one point as we were talking, or attempting to talk..Hooch was starting to slur a little bit. He finally seemed to noticed that I had ordered the pasta carbonara (which was tasty by the way. If you've never had pasta carbonara - try it. BACON PEOPLE. BACON. And tomatoes, garlic, in creamy sauce; it all depends on how the chef preps it. But Holy BACONBALLS BATMAN, BACON. Need I say more?)
The man who would win my heart would make me bacon. Nuff said'.

Anyhoozle, Hooch reached over and 
ATE
OFF
MY
PLATE

I'm not even fucking joking people. A complete drunk rando reached over and touched my food. Without asking. Just got all up in my carbonara business and went to town. Hooch just leaned over and took a big ol' forkful of pasta off my plate and stuffed it into his mouth, his eyes closing in foodgasmic ecstasy.
Jeebus Christie on a motor scooter.

"Oh My God! This is sooogoods.Ishouldhavegottenthis." He slurred.

I was completely stunned, my eyes widen, then narrowed. My mouth opened, then closed, like some freshly caught trout flopping on a dock. Even the bartender, who had witnessed what had happened seem mildly stunned, and bartenders see all kinds of shit. He walked close to me leaned over once Hooch was once again focused on his meal. It was obvious that this was first date. And it was obvious by now that Hooch was three sheets to the wind.
"Would you like a fresh plate?" He asked.
I smiled at the bartender (who was actually pretty cute - if not young).
"That's kind of you, but no need. I take it he's here a lot?" I replied.
"Yep."
"Will he get home okay?" I asked.
"Yep."
"Good. Then I'll take my check please."
"It's okay. This time it's on the house."
"Really, you guy's don't need to eat my meal because of some asshole. But thank you all the same."
The bartender smiled and processed my check. It was then that Hooch leaned sloppily over his chair and belched really loudly. Loud enough that people looked. ASSWIPE.
"Heyyy pretty ladyyy. Watsss thiss? You canna go. The nightss young." He slurred.
"Yes." I said shortly as I waited for the bartender to finish processing my bill. The bartender's name was Brad. I gave Brad a huge tip for having to, I'm sure, deal with Hooch at the end of the night, and for being kind to me.
"Would you like someone to walk you to your car?" Brad the bartender asked. I smiled again. 
"Thank you again. But I assure you, I can kick THIS guys' ass. Especially wasted." I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. "You're a good guy Brad...have a good night."
"But we'reee havingg such a gooddd timee. Wait up.." Hooch's eyes were half mast, his tie askew. But he didn't move from his barstool.
I didn't even say goodbye, or "nice to meet you" or anything. No pleasantries for that fuckwad. Just grabbed my purse and walked out.

Hooch the Hoppy Boy ate my fucking pasta.
HE TOUCHED MY BACON.
No one touches my bacon unless I'm having sex with them.
And even then...



As always, thanks for reading and please feel free to leave comments. I LOVES ME SOME COMMENTS. Have any doozies you want to share? Feel free! 
-Doozy

OMG...You're Such...A..D!ck.

You know, at first I thought there was something kinda special, and wierd about me because I got sent dick pics.
But no.
There isn't.
Turns out, there's just a whole metric shit ton of lunatics and weirdos out there in the online dating world.

The Tale of Schlongs Galore

I don't know if it's strange that I remember the first unsolicited dick pic I was sent. Seems bizarre to me. Especially since, of course, the man and I never went out on a date. This was way, way back when I first started dating...so sometime in 2010? I don't remember the guy's name or even his handle, but I was back on Match at the time. Ahhh...I was so naive, starry-eyed and optimistic back then.

So, let's call this first guy...Admiral Winky, since he was the first, so being an Admiral should be auspicious. Winky and I had started chatting through Match's online chat feature (which sucked by the way). I thought it was funny, if not trying a bit too hard, but back then I was willing to let that slide, so I was giving him a chance.

Remember, in 2010, my goal was to go on as many dates as possible.

Yeah, yeah not a good plan in hindsight.

Moving on.

So Winky. We had been chatting for a bit when he asked for a few more of pictures of me. I said sure and sent him a few through the Match email. Nothing racy or even halfway alluring, just normal snapshots. Winky replied with the semi-standard online male response:

"OMG! YOU ARE SO FUCKING HOT!"

I believe in miracles

Where you from?

You sexy thang..

Again, this was 2010, so back then I had NO idea what online dating was like, what the majority of men on these sites are like, or how to handle myself and so at first I ate up the skeezy compliments like free cheese at a wine tasting. CUZ, CHEESE PEOPLE.

It was then that Winky asked if he could send me some of his pics too.

"Sure!" I replied.

Cue the Jaws music

Duh.duh..Duh.duh...Duh.duh.Duh.duh.duh.duhduhuduhhuduhduh.

Imagine my shock when I opened the email and there were five Winky selfies standing in various stages of undress. The last pic was a big ol' close up of his tumescent dick.

Uh.

Now don't get me wrong, Winky wasn't a bad looking guy and he had a nice body. But I was completely shocked and freaked out. I didn't KNOW this guy at all. We hadn't even met. We had only been talking for an hour. Online.

What

The

Actual

Fuck.

I felt that adrenaline rush of when you're almost in a car crash and you get all shaky and your palms start sweating. And no, it wasn't that I was turned on or titillated. That was some freaky ass shit going down, and I was totally confused as to why some rando guy would be sending me a pic of his junk before I even knew him. Seriously. Why?

Winky was really excited to get my reaction to his pics. This was way back, back before I my ladyballs dropped, so I hemmed and hawed instead of just telling him he was a creep and to shove off. Then I quickly blocked him and got offline.

Early on in my dating career, I remember that my friend Megan and I were always so confused about why men DO this. I mean, really. Had this tactic EVER worked for a man who was sincerely looking for a partner?

I doubt it.

There was another time, shortly before I stopped dating, when a guy, let's call him, Dickweed, and I started chatting with on OKCupid. Dickweed and I were chatting about fifteen minutes and things were going fairly well, when Dickweed changed his profile picture on the chat to a dick pic.

FIFTEEN DAMN MINUTES.

ME: "Really? A dick pic so quick? That's unoriginal."

LOSER: "What are you talking about????"

ME: "Oh come on. If you're going to change your profile pic to your dick, at least fess up."

LOSER: "OMG! I don't know how that happened! I'm SO embarrassed! I'm so sorry.."

ME: "Uh-huh. Right"

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for two more minutes when his picture changed back to his regular profile pict. Until, seconds later when another dick pic flashed up.

ME: "Seriously dude? You know there are websites where you can go to get all the sex you want, right?"

LOSER: "Shit. It happened again? I'm sorry"

ME: "So, not only are you a perv, but a liar too? Nice. Has this tactic ever worked for you?"

LOSER: "Hey! I'm just trying to have some fun. Lighten up."

ME: "Hey! I know...why don't you go fuck off."

Then I blocked his ass.

Clearly, by now I had found my ladyballs.

In fact, over the years, I had been sent enough nekkid body shots and dick pics that I could have sent them into Playgirl and maybe have gotten some type of commission. Maybe I should keep this in my back pocket as a second job idea?

EXCEPT

Not only had I not asked to see any of said penises, but frankly we weren't talking James Deen quality peen here. Not that I am a meat scepter connoisseur or anything, but I've seen my share of live trouser snakes in my day and in my travels of the world it's usually the men who DON'T have anything to prove who are the ones who AREN'T flashing pics of their junk to the world.

So, by the time I finally closed down my last online profile, if I had been sent an unsolicited body shot or flashed a dick pic it didn't even phase me. No more adrenaline rush. No more shock and awe. No more anger and resentment and feelings of somehow being violated because I wasn't asked if I wanted to see some weird dude's unimpressive hard-on.

Cuz here's the thing, anyone who knows me will cop to the fact that I'm so not a prude. Prudishness isn't what's going on here. It's the simple fact that in the online dating world usually it's much more common for men to quickly and without asking send out dick pics than it is for women to send pictures of their tits. I dunno, maybe most online men wouldn't be all that shocked or dismayed if a woman they were talking to sent them a tit pic.

But I suspect that most NORMAL men, who haven't become victims of their own online narcissism would be pretty skeeved out by it. Shit, most normal PEOPLE would be - male or female. Skeevy behavior isn't gender specific.

Because really, that's what we're talking about here - narcissism and delusion. And I have zero patience for that bullshit. In fact, every women I have ever talked to who has dated online has been sent a dick pic. And EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM has been pissed off by it.

Trust me when I say this dudes...
It doesn't turn chicks on when you send them pictures of your purple headed soldier saluting at full attention. If anything it makes us judge you harshly for being such a self absorbed noob. Then we text the pictures to our friends and laugh.
Bitches be mean sometimes.

No. I'm really not joking.

Seriously.

"NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOUR BONER"

Unless there's already some p=v action going on, really...we don't give a shit about your dick. 

Thanks for reading and as always feel free to leave your comments. I love comments!

-Doozy

PS- Hat tip to Tricia for the use of "purple headed soldier". Nothing like a good dick joke.