When I wrote this earlier, I hadn’t been awake long, having just woke up from a nap that wasn’t nearly long enough to recharge my wrecked body after a 30+ hour writing/music/reading binge. I’m still half-asleep. My brain is still loading ever so slowly-we’re only at 30% or so as I type this. But there is a point to this post, so bear with me, OK?
As I tried to pull myself out of sleep, I began to catch up on messages, emails, posts, etc. I sleepily nibbled on my bland little blueberry breakfast bar as I checked Facebook messages…OK, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again-I’m terrible at being slow to reply to emails and messages, mainly because if someone has made the effort to send a message or email to me, I want to do the same for them, which means I like to go away and think about my reply…you will never receive a one or two word message from me-unless I’m mad at or you or something, but that’s rare because I’m such an effing nice person…97.3% of the time.
Even though I was/am still buried beneath yesterday’s mascara and I have 80s Siouxsie hair, (IF 80s Siouxsie rode for hours in a convertible down the Autobahn at 120 mph), I decided to check messages and have my breakfast bar before attempting to tame my crazy, sleep-deprived, rock-star appearance, and for some reason, I decided to check more messages that I usually do. In total, I checked 17 Facebook messages (I usually have 60-70 unchecked messages, because I’m such a slow replier-I KNOW-that’s crazy, but don’t hate me, its not entirely my fault, I swear!). Most of the messages were great, interesting and kind (I was even given a free CD by a friend who has an amazing band) But there were 3 messages that really, really sucked.
Which is why I felt compelled to finally write this silly post that I have been trying to avoid writing, especially over the past few months.
Guys, (and I say Guys because I’ve never received messages from girls like this), here’s the deal: WE DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR GOODS….YOUR WILLIE, THINGY, JUNK, LOVE SABRE, PENIS, (or whatever pet name you have for your toy)
I’m not sure what you feel you’re accomplishing by sending someone you’ve barely spoken to random pictures of your business…IF someone wants to see what you have, they will more than likely give you some kind of hint…IF you aren’t given a hint, then chances are they either don’t want to see it or would prefer to know a little bit about you before venturing onto that phase of the relationship. This is in no way meant to offend anyone and their… goods, but truth is-genitals basically all blend into one generic image when you’re sleepy, and completely uninterested in seeing someone’s bits-especially while you’re doing your damnedest to enjoy your crumbly blueberry breakfast bar.
I’m completely at a loss at what the motivation must be. Are you feeling cheeky because as a child, you were told to keep your privates private, but now that you’re a big, big man, you feel like you can defy the rules and show your pixie-stick to the entire world? Is there some secret reward you receive for spamming as many women as possible with your photos? Are you especially proud of your body, and feel that it would be a terrible injustice if you didn’t share grainy photos of your little masterpiece with every woman you meet? Maybe every time you spam women with your kazoo pics, you receive gaudy purple and green beads that you will proudly hang over your rear-view mirror for a week or so before coming to your senses and realizing that they’re really tacky so you stuff them into your fast food paper bag and toss it in the gas station garbage can? I mean, seriously WHAT is the reason for sending us the same tired old weenie shots?
I’m not being prudish in the least bit here…I’m as liberal as it gets…and I appreciate human bodies in all of their individual shapes and sizes. For example, I thoroughly adore the art of Namio Harukawa, but I’m certainly not going to send it to someone I don’t really even know, and I’m not even linking to his work in this post (but very well may in a potential future post that’s been lying in my drafts folder for ages). Mainly because it’s NSFW and also probably not something you want to look at while eating breakfast…or maybe it is... Regardless, I’m not going to make that choice for you, so Google him if you want to see his work, but be warned- there are booties and tatas, (galore!) in his art, and probably not something you want to look at while nibbling your pop tarts in the company of Auntie June & Uncle Joe.
Seriously guys, how many women have suddenly professed an undying need to be your love slave, simply because you sent her a photo of your little pal, Ruscle? I’m pretty sure it hasn’t happened…EVER. So Just put it away, until the appropriate time comes-when you might have a real reason to share it with someone. Chances are, you weren’t raised by chimps, right? Penis photos are about as desireable as watching you fling your poo, believe me. Your Dickie photos are causing the same reaction 99% of the time time: she catches a glimpse of the photo, probably sighs and mumbles “seriously?”, as she deletes the photo. And then (BOOM!) she blocks your ignorant ass. The reaction for the other 1% of the time: she’s laughing at your stupidity with her friends-before she deletes the photo and blocks your ignorant ass.
…Then she moves on with her day, and your junk becomes about as memorable as bird droppings on someone else’s windshield from last week.
I love knowing about people. I’m an introvert as well as a writer, so I have an insatiable need to know people from a distance: what you had for breakfast, your favorite song, favorite scent, your worst memory, or even better-your happiest memory. I absolutely love sharing music with people, being introduced to new music and introducing others to music. That’s always pretty amazing…so share music with me, or ask me to make you a playlist… Tell me who you are, who you wish you were, and who you’re becoming… how many times you’ve broken someone’s heart…how many times your heart has been broken…you can tell me anything you want.
And I love photos-send me photos of that annoying spot on the ceiling that you stare at every night or day as you’re falling asleep…send me a photo of your pet, your mom, your lover, your best friend, the view from your window, a gravestone of the person whose loss ripped your world apart, the way the rain looks as it collects on you window pane, the reflection of the street lights on the pavement, the sky above your head at that very moment, send me a photo of your enemy and tell me why they are your enemy (maybe we’ll spend some time together-slagging the rotten waste of space off! ). I adore those interactions. I once developed a friendship with a priest in Romania who sent me countless photos of his church and the people in his village. In return, I would send him photos of meals I cooked, photos of my shoes, a drawing of the outline of my hand, my bracelet, the view from my doorway…and I would tell him about movies I watched (though I usually felt a bit guilty discussing horror movies with a priest) I even sent music (which he never seemed too keen on, but still).
Not to sound cycnical, but I know this post won’t do much to hinder most of the ‘phone down the front of the sweatpants’ photography. But then again, maybe, MAYBE it might tempt you to take a photo of something else instead…the possibilities are pretty endless…so maybe if you pull your pants up, go wash your hands (seriously, wash your dirty little hands already!) , then change your approach and actually try engaging people in conversation, you might eventually find a real reason to share your big chief photos with someone…
…Someone who might actually welcome them instead of cringing and blocking you.
Seems worth a try at least, right?
Love & Hugs, (except to you filthy wanking photographers!)