Cutie Returns

What's this? A text? at 2am? On Saturday? Who's... Cutie?

Ohhhhhhh. Jeeze, haven't heard from that guy since October. Wonder what he has to say.

WHAT THE FUCK!?


Oh, Cutie. Whyyyyyyy?

I've heard about guys sending pictures of their hard-on's, but have never had first hand experience with it and it's so... weird! Don't send girls pictures of your junk, guys. Please. Like, what am I supposed to say back? In your weird little head, what the hell do you think I would respond with?

Me: Hey! I was just sitting here alone and sad and you just made my day! You look great! Wanna hang on Tuesday?

Or

Me: WHERE ARE YOU!? I'm in bed. Get here right now.

Or

Me: After we stopped seeing each other, I decided I was gay. But, now that I've seen this, I know better. I'm nothing without your... assets, and I want you. I don't care that you're drunk. Just make me the woman I should be!

Instead, I stared at my phone for a minute, processing my life, and then set the phone down without a response. It's been 3 months since I last thought of that guy. Why was he sending me this photo? And was it only to me? Maybe he was machine gunning every girl in his phone book, hoping to hit a target. Where's the self respect? I just feel really alienated and grossed out that I ever even knew him now. I mean, Cutie, if you ever wanted to see me again, why not send me a text that was a simple: "Hey, how are you?"

The caption to the photo he sent was: "I'm drunk and stupid."

Yeah. You are. And you've now landed the impressive new role of "That guy who sent me a photo of his hard on" for the rest of my life. Epic fail, dude!