Dating and Dickpics: Episode 13

13. Unlucky for some. But as someone with seemingly endless bad luck, I like to think 13 can signify some sort of change.

Well, unfortunately, there’s no change here. I was recently at work on a Wednesday morning, quite happily tapping away on my keyboard and coding paperwork, minding my own business and listening to Drake (obviously) when my phone vibrated against the cool, hard wooden desk I’d placed it on. I figured it was one of my friends trying to arrange plans for the weekend so I didn’t hesitate to open it.

It was an anonymous dickpic.

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Scarred for life

I’m not entirely sure what’s worse: a dickpic from a man you know or a dickpic from a complete stranger. Both are intolerable in my eyes and both are embarrassing but perhaps more so from the stranger because they are under the false illusion that somehow, their penis is so magnificent and aesthetically pleasing that you will jump on the next tube to their place naked.

I told the dick in question that his actions were repulsive and that I was not interested. I told him the sight of his ghastly manhood made me want to vomit. He proceeded to call me a whore. Right, I’m the whore. You’re the one who sent a picture of your genitals to a stranger, but I’m the whore. I preceded to destroy his logic by telling him that clearly he’s the whore out of the two of us because he’s so desperate for sex that he’s flashing his penis to an anonymous person. He then used some colourful language and after telling him to have a quick one-two pump in his hand because that’s all he could manage, I blocked him.

Lesson? I will always call you out on your bullshit and I will always have the last word if you dare disrespect me.

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Queen of Effortless Clapbacks aka me

There was another guy who decided to stumble his fuckboy-ways back into my life. He texted me after months and months of silence. His excuse? He’s ‘choleric’. In case you wondered, he’s talking about one of the Four Temperaments which have been wholeheartedly disproved. This was his oldy-worldy way of saying ‘I’m a fuckboy and I’m only messaging you because I want sex and for some reason, I think that I’m so special you’ll break two and a half years of celibacy for me’.

Any guesses on how I dealt with that?

Did I:

  • A: Express my wonder at him texting me again and partake in some polite conversation?
  • B: Make it crystal clear that I am looking for something serious, not a party in my pants?
  • C: Explain how much of a fuckboy he is, only for him to beg for another chance?
  • D: C, but sass him down and block his sorry ass?

The answer is D, because I don’t suffer fools gladly. I was a little shocked that he had bothered to text me but then again, if a fuckboy wants sex, they will magically remember the number of anyone they ever met with a pulse. I don’t think he actually remembered me. He did vaguely describe the night I met him but I really could’ve been any girl he met in any bar in London. He was horny and desperate. I am neither of the two and I have exacting standards.

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I’ll call you out if you’re a fuckboy

Remember how earlier on I was talking about how 13 is unlucky for some? It seems that this installment of D&D shows a change in luck, for I was recently with someone who met my exacting standards. We spent some time together and it was absolutely magical. It was, quite simply, the best weekend of my life (and I’m happy to say he also enjoyed it). He’s a good friend of mine and someone I feel extremely comfortable with. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to be perfect. My imperfections aren’t a big deal to him. He makes me smile uncontrollably and laugh like a complete goofball. The best bit? I managed to successfully introduce him to my real, true love, Grey’s Anatomy. It’s all very early days but I’m excited and for once, I’m happy. Long may it continue. And although I love all of my readers dearly, I hope this is the last Dating & Dickpics I have to write in a very, very long time.

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It wasn’t as cheesy as this but considering I’m a 20-something Bridget Jones, this picture seemed appropriate (note: I am cheesy)

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Dating and Dickpics: Episode 6

It’s been a long time since my last installment of this tragic yet comedic column, but I promise you, it has been worth the wait.

Last time I wrote D&D, I was going out on dates with one guy who I met at a house party. It turned out that he was a massive liar — he’d told me he was single at the party when actually, he had been seeing a girl for 6 years! I dumped him, but not because of that; I didn’t find out any of that until after I’d dumped him. He was so desperate that whilst dumping him, he was begging for my friendship but I just found him repulsive at that point. He was just so unattractive, suffocating and clingy, to the point where I just wanted to punch him in the face. After dumping him, his actual girlfriend contacted me and told me everything. In return, and as a sign of sisterhood, I told her everything. The long and short of it was that he wasn’t single when he told me he was and two timed both of us for a couple of weeks before dumping her for me, only for me to turn around and tell him I never wanted to see him again. He’d then gone begging the other girl to take him back. She didn’t. In the end, me and her got the last laugh.

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We got the last laugh

In November, me and my friends went out to celebrate my best friend’s birthday. The plan was simple: dinner, drinks, shisha, more drinks and then clubbing. The night was going swimmingly well and we were having a great time. In the nightclub, I went off to the bar and the dancefloor and started shaking my stuff.

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Accurate portrayal of my moves

I got dancing with some fairly attractive guy. Now I know what guys in clubs are like. They’re usually just after one thing. Now I’m in my 20s, I’m all about denying guys hook-ups and one night stands. I told this guy firmly after one dance that if he was genuinely interested in me, he would take my number and text me.

Sure enough, he came true on his promise. I was shocked, to say the least. He’s texted me sporadically since. Here’s what’s really getting my goat: he will text me saying, ‘I would love to meet up, can you meet up tomorrow/today?’ I’m sorry but whatever happened to decency and manners? Why do guys think that you’re just hanging around, waiting for them to text you, as though you’re actively moping around and staring at your phone, not making plans because they may text you? This kind of malpractice is disgusting and offputting. I am not going to go out with you if you don’t give me any notice. It’s not remotely considerate and it’s extremely thoughtless. Now at the moment, I am not working so I do have a lot of free time, but I always say no to this guy out of self-respect. I’d rather sit at home with my mum and a glass of wine and binge watch Grey’s Anatomy, thanks.

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‘Sorry I can’t come, I’m busy…’

Now, to finish off: some little points.

  • It’s almost New Year’s Eve and I’m single so I’ll be doing a shot of vodka at midnight. Who needs a midnight kiss when you can have vodka?
  • I’ve never been kissed under mistletoe and, irrespective of how badly I want that to change, I don’t think it will.
  • Entering another year single. Consistency is key, guys.
  • There’s a guy I like. I doubt he feels the same. One can dream, right?
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Preview of my NYE