Why Men Send D**k Pics. (and it's all your fault)

If you're a happily married adult, or are otherwise in a fulfilling relationship, then you need not worry about this post. Close this window and simply continue living.

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But if you're a single woman and you're deep into the dating scene - especially online dating like POF/OKCupid/Tinder etc - then it's likely you've encountered a hefty number of 'Dick Pics.'

A dick pic is a picture of a dude's wiener, sent with the main objective of gaining a woman's admiration or attention. Often the photo has been meticulously crafted with brooding shadows and perfect lighting, a masterful piece of vascular crotch meat chosen from a sea of sad attempts. (Similar to the selfies you ladies take)

Usually said dick pic is sent in place of a "Hello, my name is X" as a way to break the ice.

Straight up. Just here's my penis, I hope you like it. That's it.

Since the invention of the smartphone, I've wondered why any self respecting man would do such a thing as sending an introductory dick pic.

First, it's risky. These days once it's on the internet, it's on there forever. You can get slapped with a restraining order, or worse, be labeled a sex offender.

Obviously that's not the smoothest way to approach a lady, right? I mean there are countless other, better ways to get a woman's attention, I thought.

I'm all out of ideas. Here's my penis!

Then I tried online dating. Years went by.

And now I get it.

I totally and completely understand the logic of skipping all the pleasantries and just going straight for the Dick Pic Strategy:
Here's my penis, take it or leave it. If you dig it, let's do this. If not, simply ignore me like you would have anyhow, and save us both the hassle.

Would I send a dick pic? No.
Well, not yet.

Although at this point I'm completely out of alternative ideas.

Now let's get something out of the way first.
Some guys are just sickos.
They're crude, rude, sloppy, gross jerks to the core. They send their dick pics because that's all they're capable of doing as the misogynistic pigs that they are. Truthfully though, these types are exceptionally rare. They are the 1% of the male population that are just absolute scum. I apologize for them. Us Normal Guys don't want these freaks around either.

But that's only 1% of dick pic senders.

The remaining 99% of dick pic senders started off as decent Normal Guys.

Normal Guys who are employed, have hobbies and interests, shower regularly, have something to offer, and genuinely want to love and be loved for their true selves.

So what happened, you may wonder?
I'll show you precisely how it happens.

Sunday I went on a date.

I found this one on POF. She would be just my 2nd date in the last year. Let's call her Dezi.

• She was 26 (I'm 30) and was nearly finished earning her Master's in Psychology.
• She helps families with mentally disabled children, but specializes as a marriage counselor. She boasted that directly telling a man what she wants is the best way to get and keep a man.
• She was once seriously overweight (cultivating a terrific personality), but exercise and determination has since changed her into a beautiful swan. (so now she's also outwardly sexy)
• She's single, never married or divorced, attends church. No children, but wants them.
• She's the oldest of 6 kids, just like me.

That's right. A well-spoken marriage counselor who loves kids and wants her own, but has none. Dezi has an attractive woman's body but with an ugly woman's personality. Men call this The Holy Grail.

As an added bonus, she initially Favorited Me. That never happens. In fact I didn't even know that was possible until her.

I messaged Dezi and she responded with complete sentences. She even carried on the conversation. She spelled words correctly. Her grammar was flawless. Online dating veterans know how special that is.

We exchange numbers. We talk on the phone for hours. We have plenty in common, but also enough differences to keep each other intrigued.

About a week later, after regular chit chat back and forth, we pick Tempe Marketplace on a breezy Sunday afternoon to meet for the first time. Before our date, I notice she has removed her POF profile photos. Perhaps she has high hopes for me? Enough to put her own search for a man on pause.

So we meet at Barnes & Noble at Tempe Marketplace.
Dezi's dressed casually, but conservatively. A light touch of makeup, and long dark hair. Just how I like it.

Conversation comes on smoothly. We each have a beer at Thirsty Lion, her choice. Her body language is attentive, but relaxed, matching my own. Neither of us touch our phones the entire time.

I sense she is someone who needs to be in control. Her standards must be sky high, to be single for 'four years by choice' at her age and stature. She's Mexican, coming from a big family, so there must be pressure to crank out babies by now. But she's held off. Education and career comes first, and I respect that.

Dezi extends the date by suggesting Nectar afterward. We walk to the fruity-aired blender buzzing place. She offers me a taste of her smoothie, I oblige, then she sips mine. Big smiles and giggles from her. Our conversation continues without feeling forced. It bends around topics both light and heavy, silly and insightful. I feel like she's been my friend already.

Eventually we take turns going to the restroom, and at around 140 minutes into the date, she says she has to go. Her Monday paper needs work.

Fine by me, I was running out of extroversion anyhow.

I walk her to her car, she gives me a High School hug, and grins.

I tell her I think she's a sweetheart, and would like to meet her again.

She says 'me too', she smiles again, the breeze teases her hair, and we go our separate ways.

When I get home, around 30 minutes later, I send a short text thanking her for meeting me, and that I enjoyed it.

'Me too :)' Dezi replies.

And that was it.

After that she probably died for all I know, and I wasn't invited to the funeral.

'Ghosting' is the main breakup tactic of Millennials. It makes things worse for everyone.

The next afternoon, I send her a single text asking her if she likes cosmic bowling, perhaps this coming weekend.

I might as well have asked how she likes to be murdered. Zero responses.

Keep in mind, before our date, Dezi was ultra chatty with texts and phone calls. This behavior was the total opposite.

A second day goes by. Still tumbleweeds.

Her POF profile pictures are back in action. She's online now, actually.

I have been ghosted. She ghosted me.

Now for those of you not familiar with the term, 'ghosting' is a way to rid yourself of someone by completely vanishing without any given reason. It's a way of dumping someone without having to explain why. This avoids confrontation, but also fails in helping that person fix whatever caused the breakup in the first place. So they are likely doomed to repeat that same behavior. This not only kills a chance at personal growth or reconciliation, but also may hamper other dates in the future.

Now here's where things get tricky.

Does she owe me an explanation? One could say she doesn't owe me anything.

Even though I paid for the date, and took the time out of my day for her, I don't deserve a single reply text afterward. Somewhere along the way, a thought flicked in her brain that I wasn't the right one.

She can do what she wants, and although she's a MARRIAGE COUNSELOR WHO PROBABLY KNOWS HOW UNBELIEVABLY IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION IS and she specifically stated that CLEAR DIRECT COMMUNICATION OF NEEDS IS CRUCIAL she chose to ghost me. So I have to respect her choice.

But shit, why did I try so hard? I could have showed up chewing on a baby carcass, screaming satanic sonnets, and she would have acted exactly the same way afterward.

Now I've definitely screwed up on dates in the past.
And I've been on a lot of dates (other than lately) so I can sense the immediate moment when a woman flinches or recoils, or uncrosses and recrosses her legs because I said the wrong thing.
I can see when her pupils flare or constrict, or her throat swallows for an uncomfortable second because I did something wrong.

I painstakingly reviewed the date in my mind. Scanned every detail. Every sentence and inflection for possible problems.

I'm accustomed to the tiny cues that highlight my failure.
But none of those happened.

In her eyes, you may make a mistake during a 2 hour date that ruins your chances. 
She won't tell you when it happened though - as if failure was her goal. 

I was 100% Actual Me.
I said some silly things a few times, but she played it right back at me. The flow and mood never died or choked.

I felt like I did as well as I could have. I kept it clean, clear, and consistent. I was the same guy she spoke to on the phone, and remained that guy throughout the date.

So without any failure I could see, my mind begins to eat away at me over meaningless crap.
Did I lean forward too much or not enough? Was that joke too strange? Did that reference offend her? Did I choose the wrong beer? Was I too short or too fat? Did I appear too interested? Is my hair too long? Should I have flirted more or less? Are my shoes too old?

This is what happens when someone gets ghosted. They're left to rot in their own filthy doubts.

Now I wasn't in love with her by any means. Heck, I barely decided if I even wanted her. That's what second dates are for. The first date is nothing more than an interview of sorts.

There was one date, where numerous imperceptible tells were exchanged and ultimately we both left lonelier than before. This is not how dating between intelligent, reasonable adults should be.

Anyway, so back to dick pics.

In the modern dating game so far,  I've tried everything that isn't sending a dick pic:

• Being funny.
• Being serious.
• Being myself.
• Being someone else.
• Giving up and just letting things happen.
• Trying hard because things didn't happen.
• Being busy.
• Being available.
• Being affectionate.
• Being aloof.
• Fancy dinners.
• Casual coffees.
• Working out.
• Not working out.
• Being healthy.
• Fuck it eating pizza.

Only to get ghosted.

So I'm out of ideas. I am completely out of ideas.

All this work, all this time, money, and aggravation and all I'm left with is confusion and self doubt.

I'm at the Crossroads. On the left is Women Simply Telling Men What to Do or Fix on Dates So Things Will Work Out Nicely in Most Cases and on the right is Dick Pics.

We need your help ladies. Just a little bit. We want to be better for you.

So here's what to do.
Here's how to stop the vast majority of dick pics.

If a guy messes up on a date, tell him what it was.
But, and this is key, be HONEST. It has to be the REAL reason it didn't work for you, as harsh as it may sound.

Hell, text it to him if you're afraid of confrontation.

Him: Hey Sally, golly you were swell. Let's meet again.
You: It was great to meet you too, but I don't see it working out. I just can't get over your racist rant at the deli earlier.
Him: But I HATE Samoan dogs!
You: sry

or

Him: Hey babe, I had fun. Movie next Saturday?

You: I appreciate the offer, but I have to pass, I'm sorry. I have a thing for ridiculously long nose hair. It just ruins it for me.

Him: BUT I CAN TRIM THE NOSEHAIR.

You:

Him: HELLO?

You:

Him: NOOOOoooo....

You:


See? It's not that bad.

If he then chooses to freak out and get defensive, THEN you can ghost him. You were going to anyway.

At least you gave the guy a chance to think it over and either work on improving himself, or completely ignore it. The next woman he encounters on a date will appreciate it.

Don't you want better men on dates? Then be proactive about it.

See up until this point, millennial men did their best, failed, got confused and thought:

What's WRONG with me? Ugh all that time and effort what did I do wrong? AAARGH! Forget it! DICK PICS FROM NOW ON I have nothing else to lose anyhow.
/unzips