Shit Straight Men Say: "Want To See My Small Dick?"
Not as much as you want to show me??
When I hugged a male acquaintance I hadn’t seen for years a few weeks ago, he asked me if my “boobs vibrated” against him.
It was a startlingly embarrassing moment (for him that is, truly baffling for me because I hadn’t charged my boobs to vibrate that day) and I realised I had forgotten men not only say weird shit on the apps – they have no problem saying it IRL too.
As I get bored of the apps, I’ve tried my hand at engaging with men on other platforms: exchanging numbers, Instagrams, and the other day after I got sick of using WhatsApp to archive all my matches I no longer wanted to speak with, I just agreed to hand over my Snapchat. To me, it was low risk – it’s my least used app, it’s easy to delete people, and we don’t have to do that weird follow then unfollow thing a few days later on Instagram.
So yes, this is the story of how I finally got my first dick pic (x2) on Snapchat.
It was early Thursday morning: my new mate Pat messaged me instantly on Snapchat to ask how my day was and if I think size matters. “My day is good, thanks!” I said. “And I guess it depends. In summer I prefer to dress more my size and in tighter clothes, but in winter I’m not against going a size up to be comfier.”
Needless to say Pat just ignored any part of my message. “Can I send you my dick and you be honest about it?” he asked. “No,” I said. “OK,” he said.
Friday morning, a new Snapchat chat popped up. “HRU,” Pat said. I replied, asking how his day was treating him thus far. “Just sitting here stroking my tiny dick,” he said. “Do you want to see?” “No thanks!” I said. “OK then,” he replied.
A day went by… in the meantime Jack, a British chap from the east sends me a Snapchat of him in the shower. “Wanna join?” he says. I’ve spent the weekend trapped inside with a virus (not COVID, by some weird miracle) and with my eyes half-closed, nose blocked, breathing out of my mouth like that weird nerd in high school with a protruding retainer (wait, that was still me). I really doubt if Jack could see me right now he’d want me to join him in the shower. I haven’t washed my hair in days and I have the voice of a teen boy going through puberty.
Sunday arvo hits and Pat pops up again. “What are you doing?” he said. “Want to see my dick?” He’s pulling no punches now. He doesn’t care about my day. “Did he ever care about my day?” I ask my salt lamp, the worst purchase I’ve ever made in my life because I didn’t realise until after I bought it that you shouldn’t turn them off. Each night I’ve awoken, a pink light cascading around my room, wondering why the pink sun is beaming around into my eyes trying to murder me. But it’s just that fucking salt lamp. I was healthy when I bought that salt lamp and now I have a virus. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. “I’m going to kill you,” I whisper to it.
“No,” I say to Pat. “Please?” he asks. I’m worn down. Defeated. Mildly curious at this stage why this guy is so desperate to show me his dick. “OK then,” I say. “It’s small, be honest,” he said, before sending me a Snapchat of his erect penis. I delete him. I hope the fact he’s finally been able to send it gives him satisfaction enough.
But things aren’t over. Jack is back, Snapchatting things like his erection in his underwear, through the reflection of his stainless steel fridge. Because I’m feeling better, I decided to also send him some Snapchats. They look like this:
Amirite, Jack?!
Jack later sends me a video of himself masturbating in the sauna, the camera going from angle to angle as he sits there watching it. Three glasses of rosé in and I can’t be bothered contemplating why this man is in a sauna, jacking off, while someone else films him. I delete him.
My taking things to Snapchat curiosity had been satisfied. The verdict: no more handing out Snapchat, WhatsApp, or Instagram for now. If they’re asking an hour into the conversation, it’s never going to be worth it. To be fair, I already knew this (as does everyone else using dating apps no doubt) but it feels important to cross off every dating app cliché on the list. I’m playing Bingo against myself. There are no winners here.
Shit Straight Men Have Said In Screenshots:
I am currently writing this from my hometown, a place where it’s much smarter to turn off dating apps and lay low. Do I really need that guy I met three times in 2008 on The Vic dancefloor SuperSwiping me? Does every single person I went to high school with now have kids? Have I accidentally left things too late and missed out on the life I thought I’d have at 15 (married by 27, three kids by 34) before I moved out four years later and realised I had no idea what life really was? Will I ever be able to erase from my memory the time I snuck home my 2009 on-off FWB to sleep with me in my single bed only to wake up to find him pissing in the corner of my bedroom, something that was very hard to explain to my mother a couple of days later when she noticed? And why do SO many men piss on the floor when they’re drunk and never make it to a bathroom?!
Being home in Wagga always has me in a constant tailspin of horror and nostalgia. Everyone has moved onto a totally different life and I get stuck between wishing I could live a “quieter” life and be content with that vs. the overwhelming feeling of relief I get when I go back to the chaos of Sydney. It’s not to say one life is better than the other — it’s just interesting how being back in your hometown invokes those feelings of regressing back to feeling younger than you are, and remembering the plans you had laid out for yourself when you didn’t know any better.
All this rambling is to say the following screenshots are a mix of city vs. country, with a few thrown in from some readers. Enjoy!
1. “I mean, come on…”
Teeks, buddy, I mean, come on… I reckon you’re the one that made this creepy and weird.
2. Good for you!
My favourite type of man is the one who asks me about my job so I give them a vague description and they feel the need to tell me they don’t watch reality TV or TV at all. It’s the addition of “I’m always working and developing” for me, as if you can’t do that if you ever sit back and enjoy a TV show. OK champ!
3. Tell me you’re white and grew up in the country without telling me.
My tastebuds are depressed reading this.
4. …What?
So far my favourite thing about being back home is that the answers to the Hinge prompts RARELY make any sense whatsoever.
5. Car.
I uh… disagree? I think? Hard to say.
6. The literal thinker.
If most rural men are making no sense answering their Hinge prompts, the other ones are taking things far too literally. But I read this and I was jealous of Daniel’s brain. The shower is the one place I do either the best writing of my life in my head (that will never translate to a page because I forget about it promptly after), overthink every interaction I’ve ever had with someone, fantasise about how I should’ve handled things from the past, or sing loudly and badly to my On Repeat on Spotify. I’d love to have a brain that simply only thinks about water temperature in the shower, I really, really would.
7. The normal dating app checklist.
After a brief opener from me on Bumble, this guy really took things and ran with it. I was struck down by the aforementioned virus, so I had spent a lot of the weekend unconscious or mentally fighting my salt lamp. I opened my phone to numerous messages about how maybe we should just meet up vs. chatting online (due to my lack of reply I guess) and I replied telling him I was sorry for sounding flakey, I had been sick, but seeing I had given him basically zero details about myself I felt like we were on different levels of wanting to meet up.
The above is the reply I got.
Firstly, there’s no denying this poor fucker is just interested in a version of me he’s created in his head based on my profile because I had said maybe four sentences to him before that.
Secondly, the list! We’re not interviewing for a job here, buddy! I don’t give a fuck if you’re Australian born or what stage your career is at. I want to know if you can make me laugh!
Actually, I already know that judging by this list.
8. Lock your doors, hide your teeth.
Someone sent this to SSMS’ Instagram and we both are now worried about her teeth.
I wonder if this guy has heard of dentists.
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Speaking of Instagram, chuck Shit Straight Men Say a follow and send me your bad dating app screenshots while I take a well-deserved swiping break (well, from Tinder and Bumble) over the Christmas period.
And Merry Christmas, all. I hope it’s filled with margs, sunshine, family, friends, and not the spicy cough.