Page 35 of Sparks
Doing what? Asking a friend for help? Or tying one on?
What’s tying one on?I asked.
Getting drunk.
Huh. Never heard of that phrase. I responded:I daresay I will tie many more on.
The world can only hope. I gotta get going. Take care, Harlow Robinson.
You too, Captain Shawn Fowler.
Geez. Butterflies were shaking their booties in my belly and I felt like skipping around the kitchen. I was in such trouble. What I needed was to find a very single man who gave me those same rump-shaking butterflies. I grabbed a half-sleeve of butter crackers and the tail end of a port wine cheese log, then headed to the bunkbed room for privacy.
On the top bunk, I splayed out, feeling springs poke out at me. I ate several crackers with cheese in rapid succession, then pulled up my Sparks app. The first thing I did was weed through all of my matches for anyone who gave off dangerous vibes. I wanted to believe I could handle a bad boy, but after last night who was I kidding? I could legit only handle bad boys in books.
After that, I began to respond to the generic messages. Six guys wrote me Good morning. I wrote them all back. And then I sent a hello to my “friend” Dean.
Messages started to roll back in but after five minutes of chatting with various guys, I began to feel cross-eyed, forgetting who had said what, and who I’d already asked certain questions of. I had to keep looking at their profiles to remind myself which was the waiter, the grad student, the electrician, the nurse, the security guard, and the fireman.
Ru dtf?asked the nurse. I Googled dtf because it seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.Down to fuck.Of course. I was such a noob. I rolled my eyes at his Casanova moves.
I’m not dtf until I get to know someone.I felt like a prude the moment I sent it, but oh well. I expected him to call me a square, but instead he said,This might change your mind.
A picture popped up and I whispered, “Holy shit.” My eyes bulged at the engorged penis held in his hand like a purpled monster. Was that thing real? It was twice the size of the only one I’d ever seen in real life. My first dick pic! I laughed, because part of me hadn’t really believed men sent unsolicited pics. Now what was I supposed to do? I stared at this stranger’s cock. His member,hehehe. How many penis words did I know? Pecker. Willy. Dingaling. Knob, as the Brits say. I moved the phone sideways and tilted my head. Out of context a prick was a funny looking thing.
I wasn’t turned on. Should I be? I mean, it was an impressive third leg, but I wanted more than that. Not more shaft, that would be plenty. More of the man. Was there something wrong with me? The picture was just so impersonal. And then I asked myself,Self, how would you feel if Shawn sent you that peter pic?
Yeah. Self would be horny. Because of the person and personality attached to the manhood.
I took a screen shot of the schlong, and then unmatched with him without responding. It was cowardly. I wondered if I should have told him off or reported him, but what would it change? Some girls wanted that, and good for them. Really, I meant that. To each his own. But if a guy made the bold move of sending an unsolicited woody pic, then he took the chance of freaking someone out and getting the disappearing act.
I inhaled deeply and let it out before moving back to my inbox. No more weenie meat swords.
Okay, that one made me giggle out loud.
There was a reply from Dean, the lawyer, AKA my friend without benefits.
Dean! I got my first dick pic!
I’m going to venture a guess and say it was unsolicited?
Yes. I deleted him. But I feel officially initiated into online dating now.
Lol. Welcome to the club, new girl. Does this mean you’re open to nudes, then?
No!I sent the crying-laughing emoji and he sent back the bawling-tears one, which made me giggle.
Well,he wrote.If you ever want to try out your photography skills to see what it’s like to send them, I’ll be your guinea pig.
You’ll take one for the team? How valiant.I was smiling.
Ever the nobleman, at your service.
I shook my head, still grinning, and went to his photos again. Handsome Wall Street type. Smooth. Smart. If a girl wanted a one-night stand, he could probably make it worth her while…
I sighed and left his profile, going back into my messages.
The fireman, Ren. His message to me was simple. One word.
