PUBLIC RESPONSES TO PRIVATE MESSAGES #6 - No Face
It’s funny, you know, I’ve noticed a lot of guys using headless, torso only snapshots as their main profile picture. Whenever I see one, I joke to myself “I hope he has a face!” Hahah! It’s funny because of course he does. And of course you do. Although, if we met and you didn’t have a head … just had a neck sticking out of your shoulders like a huge, nail-less thumb, I’d feel very embarrassed. Embarrassed and scared.
But assuming you are a fully-formed human male, head and all, I’m wondering why you used this photo as your main picture. Most torso photos are of guys who are, well, in shape. Guys who, I assume, suffer from extreme sex addiction and unhealthy amounts of narcissism and who fill in the “I’m Really Good At” section with statements like “ preparing tight places to receive large objects”.
But in your case, you, um, how can I put this nicely…. you put up a shirtless, headless photo of your body which is, and this is not going to be nice, actually this is going to be rather harsh, but your body is undesirable. And you know what? That’s OK. So what if you have a gross, undefined pecks/abs/shoulders? We all have things wrong with our bodies. It’s just that most of us don’t lead with that information. I have about 25 scars scattered across my tall lady body from an overly cautious dermatologist who waged a fierce battle against my moles. But I don’t take a photo of each one, put ‘em in a montage and show strangers on the Internet. It’s much more fun to fall in love with someone, get naked, then as he’s wiping semen off my shoulder, he can actually discover for himself that my body is littered with tiny scars. And when he asks about them, I can pretend like it’s not a big deal even though I am VERY angry that this woman turned my body into a skin cancer fishing expedition.
Look, I’m getting off topic. This is not how I’m weird, it’s about how you’re weird. Which brings me to your question.
“Question: If you could choose any country to live in outside of the United States, which nation would you choose?”
I have a question about your question… did you pull it directly from a 1990‘s Miss America pageant? Because what it sounds like, is a question a man in a too-tight tuxedo asks a 20 year old wearing a shiny, princess sleeved gown, who in response, can only smile, because she does not have the geographic knowledge to answer. It does not sound like a question a single man asks a single woman, a woman who wrote an entire paragraph on how heirloom tomatoes helped her understand what it means to be a woman (me, I did that, in case you didn’t read my profile).
And if you didn’t lift it from a pageant, I can’t think of how you could possibly justify using it in an introductory email. What kind of person are you?
You know what? I actually don’t want you to answer. Let me tell you what kind of man I think you are…
I imagine you, sitting in your apartment, bare antique white stucco walls, black brushed metal floor lamp, naked on a Costco leather office chair, slumped over your Dell laptop, jerking off to videos of women in teal sequined gowns, who are too beautiful to succinctly answer questions like “What would you do for mankind?” And when you’re finished jerking off your pale, sickly looking dick, you wipe your weak, green tinted semen off with a black beach towel shaped like a coffin that’s never been washed. Lazily you slide off your chair onto the tan, stained carpet, and decide it’s time for your daily exercise, so you do one push up, which is so physically intense that you throw up four Jimmy Dean breakfast burritos. Lying there, next to your own vomit , you fall asleep face down while your feral cat licks your bare butt.
Did I nail it?