As a single mom I’ve more or less given up hope of finding love in the tangle of the interwebs, as well as IRL, if we’re being honest. However, a little over a year ago, I still believed I’d eventually hit partnership pay dirt if I dug deep enough with an app-shaped scoop. Boy, did I dig! Age range of 33 thru 44. Ten miles away or less. Single. With job. Must like cats, kids, and gingers.
But mostly cats.
I was nearing 38 and had a decade’s worth of online dating experience under my belt. After spending so many hours streamlining my interests and intentions, I’d thought for sure I had encountered every good and undesirable aspect of my internet-based quests for “happily ever after” and “one fun night,” alike. I was even used to the unsolicited dick pics, as sad as that is to admit. Granted, I rarely tolerated them, but over the years I’d surely seen an estimated 90% of the penii in our metro area, and not by choice.
The appendages appeared constantly, and came in all shapes and sizes. Pun throughly intended, as guys sometime bypass the still-life camera setting and instead opt to send slow motion videos of their respective money shots; a gag reflex trigger if there ever was one. My lists of blocked users surpassed my “likes” and “super likes” by a mile, but I remained undeterred. By golly, nothing could surprise me anymore. I was (dare I say it?) too damn cocky when it came to cock.
Then, one late summer evening, Mikey Mustache appeared in my matches.
He was tall, fresh out of law school, interesting, intelligent, and almost as funny as I. Well-read and musically-inclined, Mikey Mustache and his fancy waxed whiskers did his best to sweep me off my feet. He slid in and out of my DM every night as though he belonged there, and I actually enjoyed the way it felt for once. After two weeks of perfectly respectful, seemingly normal, and admittedly optimistic conversation via messaging, he gave me his number and asked if I’d like to bump it up a notch and text instead. I entered his nickname and contact info into my phone and waited a few days to send anything, out of caution. Yay, look at me! Miss Responsible!
Ha. Neither caution nor responsibility are of any use to a girl once she decides to let her guard down.
Remember that, kids.
One night, after my precious children were tucked away in bed, blissfully oblivious to the scum crappiness of our adult world, I finally texted Mikey Mustache.
It was a simple greeting: “Hi there, Mike! It’s The Ginger.” Oh, God. Looking back on it, even my perfectly innocent salutation was almost raggedy by association.
He answered, “Heyyyy!”
Before I could type anything else, though, another text came through.
“How do you like this butt?”
Then the unthinkable happened.
It took a few seconds to realize it, but sure enough, I was suddenly staring at an image that mercilessly branded itself onto the back of my eyelids. It was an entire human ass, and it belonged to the man squatting shamelessly in front of the camera. Mikey Mustache had his face concealed, but every square inch of his junk was on full display.
My widened eyes felt physically assaulted by the most ambitious spread of fur, gooch, balls, butt, bulb, and shaft I’d ever seen in one scalding glance. As if to remind me that bad is only an inch away from worse, a fleshy star winked from his hairy man-crevice in the center of the photograph, pert and unabashed. High definition AF, too.
After over one fortnight of patient chatting, Mikey Mustache finally revealed his true colors, which appeared to me in various shades of brown, mauve, apricot and cream.
My heart was pounding as I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened.
Dearest fates, please, no.
What the fresh hell…did I just get an unsolicited taint pic?
Does that even happen?
Is that a thing now?? Taint is in?? I didn’t know it’s a freaking THING! Zero warning, really?!?!
I couldn’t remove my gaze quickly enough from the offending image, lest my eyes accidentally relax upon some undiscovered swatch of manscape. My shock began to give way to anger and I was growing more furious by the second. I wanted to curse him out so badly that I could practically feel venomous words getting tangled in my teeth. It was probably a solid 20 minutes that I stared into the darkness of the generic August night trying to calm myself, not daring to look down at my phone, even though I had clicked it off already.
Finally, I decided to put the whole mess out of my head and try to get some sleep. Which is exactly what I did. Mikey Mustache never received a reply, since I assumed I would only contribute to his jollies if I reacted. Instead I blocked him as soon as I turned my phone back on, tapping my way around the screen accordingly, peering through tightly squinted eyes.
It’s been awhile since that incident took place, and I’m still amazed and terrified at how far people will go in order to have what gets them off. Mikey Mustache delivered the closest thing to assault I’ve ever experienced without being physically touched. Because of that one person, my dating habits changed across the board, for better and for worse. Six months passed before I felt comfortable talking to new people again. I have a burner number to use for the ones who make it to texting status. Not that it stops men from finding me on social media for a whole new round of fun and games when I block them elsewhere. Being single these days is a whole new level of ridiculousness. You can’t be too careful, and it’s only getting worse.
Something’s gotta give, guys. In the meantime, please know I save everything for my own protection, just in case anything happens. So, for goodness sake, chill with the violations and pics of your private regions. Quit acting like animals. I may respond with one of the pics I’ve gotten over the years, otherwise. You won’t like it and you will never forget it. It would give you one hell of a shock. Trust me. Maybe it’ll even help you reconsider what you send to women in the first place. Afterwards you can thank Mikey Mustache for your change in attitude.
No doubt he’d appreciate it. He never did get a decent response out of me, anyway.
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