A penis is in no way, shape, or form something most women consider sexy. In fact, I firmly believe I deserve an Oscar for refraining from shouting “Ew!” every time a new one is whipped out for the first time. The only thing that makes them less attractive is when they’re presented to you without warning. There are very few people who can come back from receiving a dick pic. There isn’t enough Xanax in the world to calm your lingering nerves after such a shocking sight. But it does happen, ladies, and sometimes you can only blame yourself.
3:03pm- He texts you something out of blue. His class got cancelled. The game just ended and now he’s bored. Nobody is around to hang out with. Doesn’t matter. He’s got time to kill and chatting you up is how he’s decided to go about killing it.
3:14pm- You receive his initial text. He wants something. No guy ever begins a conversation with an emoji. Dude is desperate for some attention. You respond in what future-you will refer to as “the worst decision ever.”
3:22pm- You begin a mundane conversation about class or the weather, but oh, it’s not mundane for long.
3:44pm- He gives you a small compliment to butter you up. Some conversational foreplay, if you will, to prepare you for the main event. He may let you know that you were looking good at the bar last weekend or that you’ve been extra hot lately. Something little to let you know that you’ve caught his eye. He’s testing the waters to see how you respond to him.
4:13pm- You’ve succumbed to his peacocking (plus you like the attention) and give him a simple “Oh, thanks haha” to let him know that you’re blushing behind your phone. And just like that, you’ve opened the floodgates. He’s about to take full advantage of his unlimited texting plan.
4:54pm- His comments become more racy. You’re sexting now. You’d never label it that, publicly, because that somehow makes you feel like an internet freak, or a middle school slut, but you’re sexting. He wants to see you in nothing but his button-down. He’d love to take a long shower with you. Something about your perfect boobs — you know, content isn’t important.
5:01pm- Your heart drops at the first semi-explicit text. Are you having this conversation right now? You know what? Whatever. You were bored too. Don’t think about it. Just roll with it.
5:12pm- You reply with some sexy comment about seeing him shirtless, unknowingly giving him the green light for what’s soon to come.
5:32pm- He wishes you were here right now, but his roommate borrowed his car, and you can’t abandon your original “I’m doing homework” proclamation to invite him over, so you’re both trapped at your respective homes.
5:49pm- You decide to wrap things up, realizing this is all pointless, but heavily imply there will be a “next time.” Of course, he can’t be bothered waiting. He’d rather do it virtually.
6:14pm- You send him a simple photo. Something innocent and coy. Maybe you’re smiling with an exposed shoulder or a teensy bit of cleavage.
6:31pm- He’s hot and bothered now, and puts forward his best attempt to be sexy. Having mentally checked out, a brief flash of reality reminds you that what he’s just said is actually pathetic. Actually, any male attempt to be sexy is pathetic, and would be best used as a means to torture terrorists for information.
6:58pm- Feeling guilty that you’ve taken it this far, and loving the attention you got after the last picture, you send him one final sexy photo with the caption “Hope this ties you over until I see you next.” That should do it. You get to feel like a sex goddess, and you can go back to your normal life, where you pretend conversations like this one don’t happen.
7:20pm- He doesn’t respond for some time and you take that as a sign that he’s jerking off also realized it was time for the conversation to come to an end.
7:47pm- Nope. Wrong. So, so, so wrong. Lighting up your phone is a giant-looking (hey, how’d he do that?) penis, that appears to be photographed in the back room of a Footlocker. You scream in horror, and throw your phone across the room in a knee-jerk reaction. Shit. Did you make him think that was okay????
8:01pm- You haven’t touched your phone — you haven’t even moved — in 14 minutes. You’ve been hugging your knees on your bed, trying to prevent the PTSD from setting in, but finally, you take a deep breath and pick up your phone in hopes that this was all just a bad dream.
8:02pm Alas, it was not. What is your plan of attack? How do you deal? Should you change schools? Do you need a lawyer? Can someone drive you to a drugstore to get Plan B? Why do you think you just got pregnant via cell phone tower? Ultimately, however, there is nothing you can do but accept your sad, sad fate. You’ve received a dick pic.
8:15pm- Once you’ve fully accepted that this weird horror story has just become your reality, you think about the guy. You like him. That’s how you got into this mess in the first place. There could be a future with him, but there’s also that time he sent you a dick pic. He has shown some true signs that he’d be amazing boyfriend, except he sent you a dick pic. But wait. What if…what if he’s your future husband? Then you’d be married to a guy who sent you a dick pic. Even if he becomes the President of the United States, it doesn’t seem to erase the fact that he sent you a dick pic.
8:17pm- After much deliberation, you do the only thing you really can do. You screenshot the shit out of his junk, and mass text it to every single one of your friends.
- Image via Lawyers.com
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Babe Lincoln
Babe Lincoln (@Babe__Lincoln) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move and spends the majority of her time knocking back Franzia and introducing herself as "the female Johnny Manziel."
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