Penis in Dick Pic Just as Disgusted by Bob as You Are
Hey, there, strange, attractive woman on Twitter who liked a tweet by @BobFromBigBear — you know the one: “My work day doesn’t start until quarter-after-coffee.” For his sharp wit, Bob was rewarded with 17 likes and a dozen retweets. But you were the only female who had the misfortune of responding, pretty lady, and for that, Bob has now rewarded you with a photo of his semi-erect penis. That’s me, right there in the center of the photo, Bob’s turgid manhood. Do I turn you on, Miss? Does looking at my half-hearted effort to get hard make you hot? Does my peculiar expression, as if I were just startled awake by a strange noise, make you — I’m sorry. You know what? I just — I just can’t do this anymore. Honestly? I’m just as disturbed by Bob’s behavior as you are.
Listen, Bob’s always been a weird guy. Trust me. I’ve known him for a long time, and, honestly? I’ve been complicit in his bizarre behavior for far too long. I admit it. I’m an enabler. I see that look you’re giving me. You want to know, how is a penis in an unsolicited dick pic engaging in a dialogue with you, a victimized young woman on the Internet? I’m an anthropomorphic penis, okay? What do you mean, “How am I speaking?” I’m using my urethra. “How can I see you, now?” You know what? Let’s get beyond the sophomoric premise of this piece, shall we? We’re here to talk about Bob. He’s the one on trial. Not his misunderstood trouser snake. In fact, I’m a victim, too.
One minute, I’m taking a nap, dreaming whatever dicks dream about (I’ll leave that up to you); the next minute, I’m being stirred awake by Bob’s clumsy, calloused hand and ask to perform like I’m some kind of circus animal. Count yourself lucky. You can simply delete this pic and move on; I’ve got to live with the guy. Did I mention he farts in his sleep?
Bob’s got Porn Hub in his favorites (bookmarked under the title “2017 receipts.” You’re not fooling anyone, Bob). No wasting precious time typing in a URL when you’re “Bob From Big Bear.” That’s the kind of guy we’re dealing with. Once he even pleasured himself while eating a slice of pizza. I take no pride in telling you this. Don’t even get me started on his hygiene.
Bob’s a very visual guy. You wouldn’t believe the images he subjects me to — I’ll spare you the details, but one scenario involves a live goat. I shit you not. I’m going to need a lifetime of therapy, believe me (I’ll give you a moment to process the image of a penis on a shrink’s couch). Bob obviously doesn’t understand the female mind. He thinks that if he gets excited by viewing lady parts, you’ll be equally excited by the unsolicited image of his junk.
Can we talk about the quality of the photo for a moment? With all of the filters and effects available to today’s purveyors of dick pic photography, you’d think Bob would at least try to put some effort into it. I mean the lighting is all wrong, there’s too much scrotum in the frame, and can we do something about the unruly hair? This isn’t the 1970s, Bob. Personally, I would have gone with black and white — a German Expressionist feel. It would’ve better captured my essence; dark, existential, and brooding — a thinking man’s penis — a real air of mystery, like a Fritz Lang film. This wasn’t even the best photo. Bob experimented with different angles, tried one in natural light, and even one with the bedside reading lamp on (don’t get excited; Bob only uses it to read the latest issue of Guns & Ammo). Even the one of me limply stretched across the white pillow — which personally I thought was reminiscent of Anne Geddes’s work — was ultimately rejected in favor of this offensive, in-your-face-“surprise-it’s-Bob’s-dick” photo, which Bob mistakenly believes captures his aggressive, middle-aged white guy machismo and is causing you to saturate your panties.
If I could be frank for a moment? Bob’s a lonely guy. We haven’t done any gynecological spelunking in the three years since his divorce. It’s been nothing but hand lotion, Porn Hub, and…well, that goat thing. He’s actually not that bad of a guy (if you’re into the whole backwards cap, Budweiser-swilling, barbed wire tattoo around the bicep look, and you like guys who can burp the entire alphabet in one breath). Did I mention his F-150 has truck balls?
Maybe you could overlook the online sexual harassment (one more time), and, you know, do me a solid? It’s been three years for me, too. Haven’t we just made a connection? C’mon, what do you say — Oh, shit…Bob’s coming. If he catches me talking to you like this — Quick. Just play along with me here…
“Oh, yeah, baby…does this make you hot? Oh, yeah…you want some of this? You know you do…”
It’s your fault, too, you know? You let him slide into your DMs… I’m sorry. That’s victim shaming. What can I say? I’m just an ignorant dick that doesn’t get out much…
