So it’s been a week since Day Three Drunk and I have to say it worked like a charm. I’m not mad, I’m not sad, in fact – I’d say I’m a little grateful. Had I not caught Boy Band the way I did there’s a solid chance I would have fallen for the guy, and that’s always a bad scene. Falling for a guy who isn’t strong enough to break up with someone before seeing someone else. I’ve done it before, I hope to never do it again, and I narrowly escaped it this time around.
“Guarded, she shall now be.” ~Yoda
So the road to recovery has been fun. Lots of interesting guys out there to talk with. One guy made some cool new way to create marijuana extract, another owns a halfway house and has INCREDIBLE taste in music. All quite accomplished, none of them really carrying the spark. Sadly, it’s my decision to keep talking with a fella I like to call Vlad the Impaler that is convincing me I’m definitely not ready for a relationship. Texting for a week and I’m not sure I’ve seen a single complete sentence but OH MY GOD have I seen his dick. A lot.
I’ll be perfectly frank, there’s a reason I call him Vlad the Impaler. It’s not because he’s Romanian or that he’s particularly vampire-like. Rather, through this adventure in unsolicited dick picks, I’ve discovered he has probably the longest dick I’ve ever seen. He is the impaler.
I actually specifically told him not to send unsolicited dick pics. He did promise, but he also (as far as I can see) has some weird body issues and he’s constantly in need of some kind of validation. I’ll give him as much as I can without leading him on (I’m probably not going to sleep with him, emphasis on “probably”) but give credit where credit is due. If I had a body part that perfect I’d like the compliment too. Nothing wrong with being honest, right?
But I wasn’t comfortable with all the dick pics. I certainly wasn’t ok with them showing up while I was at work, but I suppose I had to learn the lesson of syncing messages between multiple iOS devices one way or another. No time like the present to make that adjustment. But I learned two pretty important things here.
First, there are good and bad angles to a dick. A good angle shows off any specific curve or shape that would be advantageous to a woman. A bad angle just looks like a rod sticking up from fleshy mounds. It’s a lot like those memes you see on the internet where a woman tries to make a cake that looks like the Eiffel Tower and it comes out looking more like the railing an old hiking trail. “Nailed it.” (Pun intended)
Second, there may be room to consider the value of a female spank bank. Now really, let’s all just ditch the gender normative assumptions we have about the spank bank. Women are horny too, and lots of women find a nice piece really sexy – some are pretty fixed firm (pun intended there too) on a “nothing less than” approach to size. In these situations, I’m told these dick picks are more of an introduction. A handshake. Having said that, does admiration of a man’s unit necessarily mean we want to screw the guy who owns it? No, we’d probably be just as happy with a replica dildo. Having said that, is there really anything wrong with a woman taking care of business to the memory of her favorite cock?
Vlad; I’ll miss you when you’re gone. And when I say “you” I really mean your impaler. There’s some good news though. That is, I’m sure one or more unsolicited pics are still stored somewhere in my cloud drive will surface at the least opportune moment long after I’ve forgotten your real name.