I had my first dick pic experience yesterday. Don’t let the title mislead you. I was the one who sent the dick pic.
Wait…isn’t twentysomethinganecdotes written by an attractive and witty GIRL, who doesn’t have a penis?
Why yes, yes it is. And thank you for saying such kind things about me! But, allow me to explain.
I have a much coveted 416 phone number. 416 is the original area code of Toronto. 647 and 289 came after, because we were running out of 416 phone numbers. It’s a really big deal that I, a non-Toronto native, was able to score a 416 number.
This reminds me of Sex and the City when Carrie broke up with Big and had to change her phone number.
Carrie’s Assistant: Your new number, area code 347-85…
Carrie: Ho…Ho… Hold it. 347? Oh, no. No, I’m a 917 gal, always have been.
Carrie’s Assistant: I tried. It’s no longer available. Now you’re 347.
Carrie: I’m a 347 area code. How awful is that?
Samantha: 347 is the new New York.
Carrie: Well, I want the old New York with my old 917 and my old will to live.
But I digress. Anyways. I’ve had this number for about 3 years now. I’ve literally had zero wrong number calls until recently. Oh yes. Within the last couple of months, they’ve been coming one after the other. It’s usually text messages. I think someone has been giving my number out as a joke.
I’ve gotten several texts from some girl named Becky. She texts me from two different phone numbers, wishing me a happy new year, happy valentines day, and happy birthday. She thinks I’m a guy she hooked up with at a party. She’s trying really hard. I don’t have the heart to break it to her, that he gave her a fake number.
As for the dick picture.
Yesterday, some grammar-abusing fool started texting me. I was feeling naughty so I decided to have some fun. By the way, saying “I feel naughty” feels soooo British of me. Tea and crumpets, knickers, and shit.
Here’s how it went.
Grammar-abusing fool (GAF): Eyo, itz Kyle. U styll at dis number?
Me: Yep, still here.
GAF: iiight.
GAF: How r u?
Me: Pretty good. How are you?
GAF: Good. Juss killin time at work, u kno?
GAF: U styll wit dat guy Amres?
GAF: Eyo, wut r ur plans for the wknd?
GAF: ?????
GAF: U der?
Me: No, we’re not together anymore. He’s in jail! I assumed this guy, with his shit grammar and sleazy personality, runs in the kind of crowd that frequents jail.
GAF: Really? I didn hear. Wut for?
GAF: So u got plans for the wknd??
Me: Innocently sends over a picture of an anteater I got off Google Images. Yes, a fucking anteater. I wanted to send him a platypus playing checkers with an apple, but there was no such picture. I also wanted to send him a picture of the creepy girl from the Ring, but I was too scared to look it up, save it to my phone, and then look at it again while sending it to him.
GAF: Wuts dat, an anteater lol?
GAF: N does that mean no plans? Cuz I can make some for you.
I took this as my cue. It was the perfect set up to send him a dick picture. I don’t have a stash of dick pictures, so I had to Google “dick pictures”. There’s actually a blog dedicated to dick pictures. I think it said something along the lines of “Come share your dick with the world!” Perfect. I scrolled down the page, trying to find the perfect dick. It had to be offensive. Maybe a little vein-y. I wasn’t too choosy, but I found the perfect picture.
I quickly sent it over with the words “I can make some for you too. You have the wrong number.”
He never replied, but iMessage (I have an iPhone) tells me he read it at 3:08 pm.
It was hilarious. And I will strike again if need be, because now I have an offensive dick picture in my arsenal. Maybe I should send it to Becky, I think she’d like that.
twentysomethinganecdotes 