It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a smartphone may not be in want of your dick pic.

However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first opening a text, this misconception is so well fixed in the minds of the men online, that she is considered as the rightful viewer of their penises.

My dear sir! Have you not heard that women may not enjoy your images? It is true, for my friend has just been here, and we talked all about it. Do not you want to know what we thought of it?

Well, my dear, you must know, we agree that your penis is obviously one of a young man of large fortune in the southern region; but that you don’t care at all for the maintenance of your private area, and we were much disgusted with it and did not enjoy viewing it; and sincerely request that you send me no more, and remember that no woman of sensibility wishes to wake up to your cock before their own cock crows with its morning’s call.


There it was before me — your dick pic. Your dick pic: I thought but I did not finish my thought. I took a look at the image, for I had a constant sense of it there, something turgid, something imposing, which I shared neither with my friends nor my Twitter followers. A sort of interaction went on between us, in which I was on one side, and your dick pic was on another, and I was always trying to zoom in on it, as it was of me; and sometimes we eyed each other (when I was alone); there were, I remember, furtive staring scenes; but for the most part, understandably enough, I must admit that I felt this thing that I called your dick pic was sudden, intrusive, and would be quick to pounce on me if I gave it a chance.


What happens when your dick pic is ignored?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?


Most true is it that “beauty is in the eye of the gazer.” Your colorless penis, turgid, massive head, broad and hairless balls, deep eye, strong shaft, firm, rounded head, — is not disgusting, according to rule; but it is more than disgusting to me; admittedly it is full of power, an image that quite mesmerized me, — that took my thoughts from my own volition and tethered them to your penis. I had intended to want you; I had struggled strongly to grow within my soul the seeds of want; but now, at the first erected view of you, they spontaneously die, shriveled and impotent."


Out of your sack and follicle’s nest
You rise
Up from a shaft that’s rooted in groin
You rise
You are average length, thin and unspent,
Welling and swelling, and terribly bent.
Leaving behind images of hope turned fear
You rise
Thrusting me into an evening of beer
You rise
Sending me pictures and hoping I’ll save,
You are a crooked mast in need of a shave.
You rise
You rise
You rise.


All the disgust and disappointment have purged themselves. I feel surprisingly calm. I hold the dick pic suspended a few feet above my head. I am open to the offending image.


Your dick pic was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being your own, at length photoshop would
Thy shortcomings amend, if so I could.


There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting a dick pic, and the other is getting yours.


I behold the wretch — the miserable monster whom I had helped create. He takes up the entire screen; and this dick pic, if dick pic it might be called, is fixed on me. The veins throb, and it lurches forward disturbingly, while a single tear weeps from the tip. Your one hand is stretched out, seemingly to grip him, but I avert my eyes and delete the image. I take refuge in my Candy Crush challenges, where I remain during the rest of the night, dropping candy pieces up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each text sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal snake to which I had so unintentionally given life.


It seems to me that trying to look at your dick pic is like milking a bear to get cream for your morning coffee. It is a whole lot of trouble, and then not worth much after I do it.