My phone made unfamiliar noise and the name, “Blue” appeared on the screen with the What’s App notification that I’d received a photo from him.
I met Blue a month ago on my way to a friend’s day party to celebrate her 30th birthday. So of course I pregamed (all the drinks you have in preparation for you night out) before I left my apartment. Tipsy and not being very well hidden because the sun was still out, I made my way down three city blocks toward the venue.
A loud luxury car pulled up on the sidewalk to my right. Before the car came to a complete stop, the passenger door swung open and a beautiful butter pecan Puerto Rican stepped out. His shoes were pristine, as if he’d never walked on the New York City streets with them. They perfectly matched his hat and T-shirt. I rolled my eyes so far back into my head, I saw what was going on behind me. I hate dudes like this. The gotta-stay-fly types.
The minute I cursed him and his mother out in my head for being so materialistic and shallow, his head whipped behind him, in my direction. And then, a double take. When you catch someone’s eye and they have to get another glance at you, your self confidence goes through the roof.
I smiled. He smiled back. “What’s up?” He asked casually, like we already knew one another. He slowed his walk.
Smiling, mostly because of the booze slowly hitting me, but also because his eyes were an icy blue so clear, I swear I was transported to Fiji. “Oh me?” I asked rhetorically, knowing he was talking to me. “On the way to a party. What’s up with you?”
We both stopped walking. “You tell me,” he was still smiling. He held out his hand. “Come here,” he asked with a laugh. “Don’t be scared. I don’t bite, unless you want me to.”
With that line, I should have known this man was looking for an easy climax, but I let his eyes put me in a trance and I giggled, “Keep your teeth to yourself,” I patted him on the arm.
“So what’s up? Can I get your number?” he asked me. With each blink, I leaned closer.
“What about my name?” I asked.
“Oh sh*t, you’re right. I’m Blue. And you?” He reached out his hand.
“Danielle. Nice to meet you Blue,” I knew his momma didn’t give him that name, but I didn’t care. Those blue eyes could make Michael Ealy jealous. I held his hand for longer than necessary.
“You taking me with you?” He joked.
I let his hand go. “I mean, if you want to come to this party, let’s go!” I pulled him.
“Nah, chill,” He laughed. “I’m out with my boy,” He nodded towards the car he’d gotten out of moments before. “But after, we can link up?” He squeezed my hand.
“Sure!” I said, probably way more enthusiastic than I needed to be. I let his hand go.
“Let me get that number though,” Blue told me, rather than asking me. Again, a sign I ignored because this dude was fine and let us not forget those pools of blue he calls eyes.
We exchanged numbers and I walked away from Blue, who was still standing in the spot we met. I looked back. He smiled and I promise you I saw his eyes sparkle. He licked his lips. I blushed.
I walked away knowing his eyes were on me. Confidence booster!
At the party, I continued to drink, checking my phone each time it buzzed to see if it was my new knight in shining
armor eyes. It never was.
Two weeks went by and I figured I would just try to call him at least once. It went straight to voicemail, so I neglected to leave a message and I text him: “Hey Blue. It’s Danielle. We met in the LES a few weeks back. Hope you remember me. If not, let’s jog that memory of yours ;-).” It was too much. It wasn’t enough. I hated it. I sent it anyway. I received zero response for a week. Then I’d gotten a call from Blue, saying he was on his way to Puerto Rico and we would connect when he got back. “Looking forward,” I responded.
Another week later, my phone lit up with an unfamiliar sound and “Blue” appeared on the screen with the What’s App notification that I’d received a photo from him.
“He must be back!” I said to myself, excited about the possibility of finally connecting with this blue eyed stranger. I opened the text and the image made me giggle immediately. It was a very smooth and seemingly veinless penis, beige in color and where the head met the shaft, there was a red bump. It was also bone-straight. My eyebrows furrowed.
On the What’s App application, there’s indicators that show that the message has been sent and read. Obviously, on his end, I’d seen his message, but there was no response. I wasn’t sure what to say.
Four days later, Blue sent another message. I hesitated, hoping that it would be some sort of mea culpa about having sent me that weird looking dick pic. But to my surprise, it was another penis picture and this one was very different from the one he’d sent four days ago.
This one was veiny, brown(er) and without the red splotch on the head. And this one had a slight curve upward. Honestly, the second penis was in first place. These were clearly not the same penises. What is going on here?!
One minute after he sent the image, he wrote, “I been dying to give u that.”
Not an apology for sending two different penises, but an inquiry about my non-response, 45 minutes later, “So u not gonna say nothing,” he asked.
“I’m not sure what to say,” I responded. He viewed my message and didn’t say anything in response.
While I was excited about meeting this handsome man with the killer blue eyes, his cockiness (pun intended) was such a turn off. Unsolicited dick pics are just not the things you want to send to someone you just met. Everyone knows that women show pecker pics from their inbox to all their friends and we either giggle at how awful they are or marvel at their beauty. Either way, everyone is seeing it.
So yes, I showed my friends the shockingly different penis pictures I received from one man named Blue and they agreed:
“There’s no way this is the same penis.”
“OMG, why does one of them have herpes?”
“I can’t believe he actually wants you to respond to it.”
“What the f*ck is wrong with men!?”
There’s a few lessons to this story:
- Only send dick pics to women you’ve had more than one conversation with.
- If she doesn’t reply, don’t send another pic of another penis.
- Don’t send dick pics.
Got it gentlemen? Good!