Sonder

 

435387252_640I am in rush hour traffic.  The freeway is backed up in both directions.  I am frustrated.  I need to be somewhere, but I am stuck, barely moving five miles per hour.  And in my mind, I am not stuck with these other drivers, I am stuck because of these other drivers.  As a result, I think to myself,  “What is it that all these people do???  Where are they going?  What are their lives all about?  Is that woman really doing her makeup while driving right now?  Did that dude just pick his nose?  Really?!”

The “Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” would lead me to believe that I have just experienced “sonder.”

Sonder

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

Quite the definition, right?  What is interesting to me is that what this word does well is defines a departure from ones selfish tendencies.  In order to truly experience sonder, one must step outside of themselves and contemplate the complexities of the story lines available in someone else’s life.  I like the word sonder for this reason.  It encourages me to contemplate my role in this world.  I may simply be an “extra” in someone else’s experience… an experience I will likely never truly nor fully understand.

Where I feel the word falls short, if a word can even do that, is that it fails to describe the motives, the steps, the process necessary to reach and experience sonder.  In other words, it’s a word whose very definition is that of a realization that I am a “small fish in a  big pond.”  But how the experience is reached and why the experience is reached is another story.

I mean, as I was stuck in traffic, I thought about what all those people on the freeway did for a living, what their lives were about.  Were they married, single, kids, working, in school, unemployed, etc?  I was squarely focused on the lives of those around me.  And yet, my thoughts about these people were not out of some genuine selfless interest.  Instead, these thoughts were tied to my own selfish interests, which in turn were tied to my own personal experience and story line.

The experience was not simply, “I wonder what all these people do and what their lives were about?”  Instead, it was, “I wonder what these people do and what their lives were about… because it’s crazy to think how many people are driving on this freeway, interfering with my commute home… consequently effecting my life.”

So, I guess my question becomes, can you actually experience sonder if it comes from your own selfish thinking?  Or, to truly experience sonder, do you need to be as selfless as possible, giving yourself over to the idea that other people’s lives and stories are just as compelling and important as your own?  Can you truly surrender yourself to someone else’s experience and simply be reduced to an “extra” in the background sipping coffee?  Can you willingly be a blur of traffic passing by in someone else’s commute? Will your ego allow it?  Will your primal instinct to survive (if even in just a hypothetical scenario) allow it?  Are you  willing to surrender your identity to serve as the background noise in the lives of others?

At the end of the day, I feel sonder is tightly connected to empathy.  In fact, I would argue that sonder cannot exist without empathy.  Empathy, by definition is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.  Therefore, very simply, if we cannot empathize, we cannot possibly experience sonder.

So, tying it all together, and in an attempt to offer some sort of conclusion to this rambling stream of consciousness…  It all comes down to the connection between ego, empathy, and sonder.  We must have the capacity to surrender our ego to a certain degree, in order to empathize with others, which then gives us the ability to experience sonder on the many levels in which the definition suggests the word itself encompasses.

And the best part of all of these mental gymnastics is… sonder is not even a word found in the dictionary (yet?).

Is sonder even a real word?  A real experience?  A real thing?

We can leave that debate for another time…

 

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Planting The Flag

pink toothbrush

It’s like any other morning that she has stayed over.  We have been doing this for a little over a month and a half.  “Dating,” or “seeing one another” I guess you would call it.  We have not made anything “official,” haven’t had “the talk.”  It’s pretty nice actually.  No labels.  No drama.  No fuss.  We simply spend time together and enjoy each other’s company.  If only it were always this easy.

On any given morning we wake up, roll around under the sheets, push it until the last possible moment, phone alarms blaring, then spring out of bed… her to her car so she can get home and get ready for work, and me to the coffee machine in my place so I can begin my day as well.  I give her a gentle hug and a kiss, she smiles, tells me to have a nice day, and she heads out the door.

If only it were always this easy.

I check e-mails as the coffee is brewing, take some vitamins, down a protein shake.  A little Facebook.  Online news.  Twitter.  The usual morning routine.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  I head to the bathroom, and as I round the corner, I see it, plain as day.

Why does it have to be this hard???

Hanging smugly, almost triumphantly over my sink, is her toothbrush.

It stares at me.  Challenges me.  Stuns me.

She has planted the first flag.  The invasion has begun.  Shit has gotten real… real fast.

I do what any man in my situation would do.  I FUCKING PANIC.  Not because I don’t see myself with her.  Not because I don’t want to be with her.  But because this toothbrush brings us to an entirely new level.  A level to which I had not yet agreed.  The toothbrush itself is inherently symbolic of the very thing that has allowed our time together to be uncomplicated… the toothbrush is in and of itself, a label… a statement of  her intentions.

In my mind, I am confident it won’t be long before I am surrounded by candles and oils and scents I don’t understand, colors I cannot pronounce, and plants I did not know existed.  I will lose all privileges in deciding housing appearance (“decorating”), I will have more “show” towels (you know, the kind that look good, but can’t soak up a single droplet of water?!) than I know what to do with, I will have more throw rugs and more pillows than any human being could ever need.  And when I only have 1/16th of the closet space I once had, I will look around, accept my defeat, and think back to the day, not so long ago, that the toothbrush was firmly planted on the side of my sink.

This toothbrush, that I stare back at now, signals the beginning of the invasion.

“Come on, man.  She accidentally forgot the toothbrush.  Calm down,”  you might say?!  Oh… really.  When, in the history of time, I ask you, has a woman ever done something “accidentally?”  We need to give women more credit than that.  They are creatures of great ability, with impeccable planning skills, and powers of persuasion (sometimes manipulation) that no man can resist.  Even when a woman tells you she doesn’t know why she did something, in the end there is always some kind of purpose behind it.  Even the accidents are on purpose!  And how can we, as men, defend against it?  Well, if we really truly like the woman and have developed feelings for her, the answer is… we cannot.

And that’s the point.  She didn’t leave her toothbrush behind on day one, or week one, or even month one.  That would be a true accident.  She has brushed her teeth every single night she has stayed at my place over the past month and a half , and without fail has taken the toothbrush with her every time she has left.

But now, here it sits.  And why?

Because I caught the most dangerous STD known to man… I caught feelings for her.  I like her.  I like being with her.  I want to keep spending time with her.  And she can sense it.  She knows.  And she also knows I am male… so she knows I have a deep seated, intrinsic, carnal fear of commitment.  So she knows I will shy away from commitment any chance I get.

And with this knowledge, she plants her flag, not only announcing the impending invasion, but even more importantly, announcing our connection.  It is an unspoken gesture.  She has gambled, and she has gambled correctly, that I won’t say a word about the toothbrush.  After all, that would lead to an actual discussion of “what this is,” a Q&A with questions like “what are we doing,” and  “are we girlfriend and boyfriend?”

And yet, in not saying a word about the toothbrush, I silently submit to a connection beyond just hooking up, dating, and/or booty calls.

This is my dilemma.  I either quietly accept the toothbrush and silently admit that this is in fact becoming something more serious between us, or I confront the situation head on, mention the toothbrush, and get into the ever-dreaded conversation about the state of affairs and labels.

I, as most men would, choose the quiet route.  Why?  It is a way to let her know that I accept things are moving forward, but allows me the “out” in the future to still be able to say “we never talked about this… we never decided on a  label.”

It’s a guys silent relationship parachute.  At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.  That’s how we can sleep at night and not be in constant fear of the commitment we just entered into.  Is it a delusion?  Yes, most definitely.  Because, let’s be honest, if shit does hit the fan and things go sideways, the “we never put a label on this” defense isn’t going to cut it anyway.  Actions will always trump words.  And inaction (failing to confront the toothbrush head one) ultimately serves as an action (conceding to an agreement that the relationship is more than just casual).

But I digress.  The fact of the matter is, I like her.  She is very high quality, we get along great, and I want to spend more time with her.  But, I cannot articulate that to her as simply as I just wrote it in the previous line.  Absolutely not!  Why?  Because I am a commitment-phobe, like the majority of the male population.

So, as the toothbrush continues to sit defiantly on the edge of my sink, I think to myself, “why does it have to be this hard?”  And in the midst of my panic, I find a glimmer of happiness, and I start grinning.

Why?

Because this toothbrush, this flag of defiance, this signal of the ensuing invasion, means she is into me just as much as I am her.

The Next Great American Novel

I’ve written it a hundred times in my head.

Pages upon pages of concepts, ideas, themes, plot and story lines swirl around in my head… minute by minute, hour by hour, day after day after day.  Current events juxtaposed with the pervasive and unifying social themes from time immemorial.  All the makings for an excellent novel…

The next Great American Novel… with me as its author.

And what do I have to show for it?  Nothing.  I have yet to commit a single word of it to paper.

To be sure, all of it is clustered in my mind.  It’s all there.  Completely unorganized, yet immediately accessible at the worst of times… driving in the car, showering, out on a run, during work, in the middle of a dinner conversation.  Everywhere and anywhere that I can think, but cannot act, the novel has been and is being written…  But not on paper.

Oh, it makes so much sense in my head.  It is so powerful.  My commentary on the human condition.  My contribution to a greater understanding of ourselves, of our society.  My calling.  My purpose.  My contribution…

Again, what do I have to show for it?  Nothing.  I have yet to commit a single word of it to paper.

So then, who am I to even begin to presume that I could offer anything of substance, anything worth reading on a blog… let alone a contribution to the American literary collection?!  I mean, come on… I am going to write the next Great Gatsby?  To Kill a Mockingbird?  Or wait, maybe I will just crank out an easy Moby Dick or Grapes of Wrath, and cap it off with the present times version of the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?!

I so desperately want to speak about the profundities of the American experience.  But what could I possibly have to offer that would ever be viewed as a contribution to the collection of American Literature?

One day, I have promised myself… one day I will commit it all to paper, in an organized an intelligible way.  I will make my contribution to society… In a literary masterpiece, the likes of which would place my name in the same standing as Faulkner, Salinger, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald.

will write something, the thing, that will resonate in readers for decades and centuries to come.

In the meantime, I guess I will just go for a run after work, take a shower, and drive to meet some friends for dinner.

Look At Me?!

“So you’re a swimmer?”

She was blonde, she was beautiful, she was popular.  And she was talking to me?!

“Um, yeah… Er…. Uh… I mean yes, yes I am.” I try my very hardest to assert some kind of authority over my words, but I can’t believe “Jenny” is talking to me. I am, for the first time in my life, being noticed, like really noticed. And not for my oily skin, cracking voice, and just plain old awkwardness… But for something I do.

“That’s cool,” she says with the kind of casual elegance you would expect from any one of the 80s movie teenage stars I had ever fantasized about. “We have a good swim team, don’t we?” she continues with a smile, as her hair blows gently in the wind, emanating from some fan I am  presently unable to locate.

“Yes, we do have a really good team,” I state with some semblance of authority in my voice. “We won the sectionals last year.  We have a really good shot of winning again this year.”

“Why are you saying weve won?” She asks.  And not in a condescending way, but in a truly inquisitive one. “You’re not on the the Varsity Squad, are you?” This time there is a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yeah, actually I am. I swim the 200 and 500. I beat out one of this year’s Seniors for the spot.” I am half proud and half scared as I make the announcement. I hang on her every word, as she says…

“Wow! And you are only a Sophomore?! That is really impressive.”

And in that moment, ALL of my self worth becomes tied to my athletic performance. How could it not?! One of the hottest and most popular girls in high school, who just happened to have her locker next to mine, actually spoke to me,  actually offered me recognition for my athleticism. She validated me.  The feeling is intense… a lusty adrenaline filled pride.  I want more. I need more. In this moment, with the words of a popular and beautiful teenage woman, I am empowered.

I now know what I have to do. I have to become the best athlete I possibly can.  This is my ticket to inclusion.  This is the validation that I had up until this point been unable to acquire. The equation became so clear, so simple…  Become a great athlete and people (important people… like Jenny of course, one of the hottest girls at school) will take notice of you, talk to you, accept you…

It is often strange, the things we tie our identity to, isn’t it?  It is strange how we choose to define ourselves.  Stranger still are the discrepancies in how we view ourselves versus how others view us.

Years after my encounter with Jenny at the lockers, a very close girlfriend of mine turns to me during a conversation about life, existence, and contributions to friendships/relationships/society and says, “You know you have more to offer than just your athletic ability, right?!”

I would look at my friend completely and utterly puzzled. How could anyone see anything in me other than my ability to perform in athletic endeavors? What other qualities do I have? No seriously, I had no idea what she was talking about. Not until many more years after my close friend pointed out that I might have more to offer this world than my athletic prowess, did I ever truly understand what she was getting after.  And although I feel I haven’t yet fully figured it out, I have a better understanding that I have the capacity to offer more to this world than my accomplishments.

Going back to that fateful day in high school… All I knew was that in the moment Jenny recognized my ability as a swimmer, she brought me into existence.

And, at that point in my life, that’s all I needed to know. Her validation and acknowledgement years ago made me into someone.  Or perhaps better stated, she set me on a path to become someone.  Showed me the way.  The encounter with Jenny created within me an identity.  An identity  I clung to for years and years. Because of Jenny, I was no longer, well, a no one. I was no longer the introverted high schooler with acne.  I was no longer (as) awkward.  Regardless of the “nod” from Jenny, I was still every inch the introvert.  That didn’t change instantly. And yet, in my brief encounter with Jenny, with validation on my side, I could feel the tide was shifting.

The desire to express myself, to open up, to unveil myself to the world was in motion. It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual.  From introvert to extrovert… it was a journey.  From high school, to college, and beyond.  But it was one I eventually completed, in only the way a true overachiever could do.  I swung from bashful to confident, from “(PLEASE) don’t look at me” to “HEY EVERYBODY… LOOK AT ME!”  Did I swing too far in the direction of confidence, perhaps to a level of over confidence?

You’re damn right I did!

But you know what? It sure as hell beat the non existence I had lived from Kindergarten to Tenth Grade.

Oh Jenny, if you had any idea what a service, and disservice, you did me this day….

Manscaping

Fellas, in this day and age, manscaping is a must.  In the same way you likely don’t like your woman to rock 70s style body hair (although there are some dudes out there into questionable stuff these days), your woman likely doesn’t want you to be Tarzan, King of the Jungle (in your pants).  In the same way you shave your face or trim your beard/mustache, it is en vogue to do the same with your chest, back, happy trail, and nether region.

Now, just how much manscaping is necessary is open for debate.  From trimming to total removal and everywhere in between, men are faced with the dilemma of just how much is right.  In a lot of ways, it comes back to personal style, and feedback from the ladies. But in my experience, I have yet to meet a woman who is completely stoked on the idea of a twig and berries combo that is completely bald.  The nuclear option,  or scorched earth as it is also known, is a dangerous policy for manscaping.  Men are men.  They come with hair.  A pretty good amount of it, actually.  And pretty much everywhere.  It can either be a hinderance, or you can accept it and play into it and take your manly refinement up a notch by managing the hair you’ve got.  There are lots of man specific grooming devices out there, made specifically to meet the needs of any man looking to trade in his Chewbacca status.

My suggestion is, however you decide to manscape, make sure the length of your body hair does not exceed anything that you think would end up in her having to stop, reach into her mouth, and fish out that rogue hair (if you get what I am driving at?!)

And lastly, if for no other reason, a well manscaped member is good for the illusion of at least one extra inch.  Fact.  So, bring your game up a notch, if not for yourself, for the lady that has to deal with your unkempt self!

Condoms Are Emotional Barriers

Condoms are GREAT! They serve as a physical barrier to potential exposure and contraction of sexually transmitted diseases, as well as a physical dam that would prevent any of your fearless swimmers from setting forth on their journey in hopes ultimately diving headlong into the egg.  At the same time, I also humbly suggest that condoms serve as an emotional barrier.  After all, taking that big step with your significant other and deciding not to use condoms represents a very high level of trust.  And trust is inherently bred from an extremely strong emotional connection to your partner.

So, every time a buddy of mine tells me he had a one night stand and decided not to use a condom, my mind is blown.  Seriously?!  You just met this chick, don’t know her from Eve, and you are gonna throw it in there raw dog?!  I understand how my buddy got there (ending up bare back with a woman they barely know) in so far as for guys there is a massive difference in feel between condom or not.  When I ask a dude why he had adownloadcondom-less one-nighter, generally the response is,  “It just feels so good without a condom, bro.”  Yeah, I know it does.  But you know what else feels so good?  Living STD free without a bunch of unplanned little kids running around calling you daddy.

I really don’t trust any woman who comes home with me on night one (I see the irony, and potential hypocrisy in that statement).  But seriously… if a woman comes home with me on night one, you can safely assume it isn’t her first time doing this sort of thing (despite her protesting, “I never do this kind of thing”.  Um, yeah, sure you don’t).  Furthermore, I really don’t trust a woman who comes home with me night one and says she wants to do the dirty without a condom (and yes, that has and does happen).  Yeah, that’s not for me.  And it shouldn’t be for my buddies.

Condoms provide peace of mind.  The only time that that peace of mind can exist sans condom is when you trust the woman you are with.  If I have sex with you without a condom, I am making a statement that says, I trust you with my sexual health and with my family planning.  After all, there is no pill for men, and that fancy form of contraception known as “pulling out” isn’t always fail proof.

This is all to say that I really see a connection between condoms and emotion.  Now, this isn’t to say that couples who continue to use condoms throughout their relationship do not have a strong emotional bond.  For them, it’s just the chosen form of contraception (especially if a woman doesn’t want to be on the pill).  But, this is to say, when a condom is taken out of the equation, a certain emotional barrier is removed along with the physical, and a statement of trust is issued.

For those of you who aren’t like my “horny health gambling let’s just go raw dog on night one with a completely random woman” buddies, do you feel there is an emotional component to the removal of condoms from the equation in your intimate relationships?

The Time-Traveling Sext-Selfie

Little tip from the pros:

Ladies (and dudes bold enough to send the ever-controversial dick pic), when sexting, don’t be lazy.

When sending a naughty pic, please be sure to send a sexy selfie that you took at either that exact moment in time, or send one taken within an acceptable range of time that you have been seeing/dating/sleeping with the recipient.  Let me explain. For those that don’t know, in this day and age, photos are geo tagged and time stamped. So, when the recipient syncs their phone, and the photos upload into iPhoto for example (which can be categorized by date), you best have it all lined up. After all, there’s nothing better than that, “Oooooooh, look at that topless selfie you sent me, taken…. 8 months ago (and we’ve only been seeing each other a month)… In a completely different city (likely Vegas)… Surely intended for some other dude you were banging at the time (most likely that son of a bitch ex-boyfriend you won’t shut up about).”

Nothing softens a dick faster than seeing a pic you realize some other dude enjoyed a lifetime ago.  So, again, either send current selfies to the dude you are currently with, or learn how to turn off the geo tagging and time stamping for your photos.

This goes for the fellas too… But honestly, does anyone truly want pictures of our junk?

Where’s Waldo And Other Fun Online Dating Games

Here are some dos and don’ts… Well, mostly don’ts for the photos you use on your online dating profile.

Ladies: Seven simple suggestions for pictures not to post on your online dating profile:

1) Where’s Waldo – If most or all of your photos are of you in a group of girls, it’s really not working for us dudes. It is very difficult for the (often lazy male) to have to go back and forth through the photos to see which one you are by eliminating the other women that aren’t in every single group shot. Yes, we get that you have friends. We are not interested in your friends, unless that’s what you are offering. But I am pretty sure a five-some would just be logistical nightmare.

2) Blurry – Why the blurry photos? What are you trying to hide? Guys are instantly put off when the leading photo, or any photo for that matter, on a dating profile is blurry. This speaks to so many things (and none of them good).

3) Pictures with an animal that’s not a dog – Lions and tigers and bears and llamas and cheetahs and… the list goes on. Okay, so you have access to exotic animals because you went on some trip to a third world country that puts you in a cage with the animal for photo purposes. Really doesn’t do it for me. Oh, and I say pictures other than with a dog because I can’t stand cats. Terrible little devilish animals.

4) Selfies – For the same reasons you ladies don’t like dudes posting selfies. It smacks of, “what do you do with all your free time? There are no photos of you doing anything other than standing in front of a mirror? And you don’t know anyone else that could take a picture of you? Hm.

5) Hiking – This might as well be the official single girl pastime. Rarely do I ever come across a woman on a dating site who doesn’t include at least one picture of herself hiking (which she also consequently lists as one of her passions or hobbies). Really? Hiking? I mean, it’s better than sitting around eating potato chips on the couch, but there are so many other things to be doing with your time. Is hiking really all that fun?! Is it really hiking you’re doing anyway? Or is it waking up at 10am, hungover on a Sunday, and trudging a few miles up an easy trail to a lookout point with your other single hungover girlfriends?

6) Pics with friends as hot, or hotter than you – If you can’t see the inherent dangers in this one, then let me explain. You are trying to attract potential suitors to you. Thus, it is disadvantageous to post photos of you juxtaposed with a woman or women of equal or greater physical attractiveness. If you post photos with the potential of distracting men from focusing their attention on you, then the likelihood is it will happen. Men are simple. Their thoughts will be something along the lines of, “wait… who is THAT? Does she have a profile on here?” (as he points to the woman next to you).

7) Pics of you with a child/children (that are not yours) – If you are a mom, then by all means, post photos with your children. It’s great to lay those cards on the table early so everyone knows the deal. Some men will date a woman with children. Some will not. It’s not a good idea to confuse the situation by withholding that info from the start. If, on the other hand you are not a mother, pics of you with your nieces and nephews are just plain confusing. Potential suitors will pass you by if they think the children are yours, and they don’t want to date a women with children from another relationship. In the end, I can’t help but think that women sometimes forget their audience on dating websites. You are posting pics to attract potential suitors. You are not posting pics for your female friends, your family, or your coworkers to enjoy. The focus should be on posting pics that attract men to you, and withholding pics that have the potential to confuse men. And trust me when I say, men are easily confused.

Gentlemen: Your goals are very simple. Do not post any pictures that make you look like: 1) a “douche bag,” (EVERY woman’s favorite term) 2) a “mama’s boy” (and dare I say “grandma’s boy”…. Yeah, you know who you are posting pics of you and Grams), 3) a “baby daddy” (if you AREN’T actually the father of the child), or 4) a “sugar daddy” (you in front of your BMW, or with bottles of Dom, wads of cash, or in front of some private jet that likely isn’t yours but you scored a once in a lifetime trip because of some rich family friend comes off as, for lack of a better term, tacky. No, you are not a baller. Sorry bro). The point is, if you think a shirtless picture of you next to grandma in her sweater, in front of a private jet, just getting out of a limo, and popping a bottle of Dom is what is necessary to attract a woman…. You clearly don’t back yourself. News flash…. In this day and age where women are self sufficient, career minded equals to men… They care less about your dollars and much more about whether you are going to treat them well. Crazy, I know, right?! A woman wants to be treated like a lady? She wants to be respected, and be with a man she sees as, well, a MAN?! Holy hell, this shit is groundbreaking, I know. One last thing. Under no circumstances, as a self respecting male, do you take a Selfie. Shirtless or otherwise, absolutely no selfies. Are there any other etiquette suggestions for the ladies and/or gentlemen that I may have overlooked?

Photo Sexting And Today’s Dating

We have established the usefulness of emojis and hashtags, but have yet to tackle the topic of photo sexting. Let’s be honest, likely one of the main reasons you even considered using emojis and hashtags in your sexts in the first place was to flirt and establish a rapport that would possibly grant you naughty pics containing full frontal nudity… or posterior nudity, or both (depending on what you’re in to, and depending on what she wants you to see). But, again, likely the reason you emasculated yourself with emojis and likely the reason spent time creating #funnycuteplayfulnaughtydirty hashtags in the first place was in the hopes of scoring the dirtiest of selfies.  Again, grown ass men using little yellow cartoons to express thoughts and feeling could only come out of some sort of end game. Am I right?

And as things have progressed, now it seems that sexting goes both ways.  Thus, the advent of the ever-controversial dick pic.  In today’s dating world of playground rules “you show me yours, and I will show you mine,” sometimes you have to give to receive, and sometimes you are expected to give upon receipt. Either way, you’d be lying to yourself as you read this that you’ve never sent a dick pic, or at the very least taken one (or hundreds… Lighting and angles are everything) to have as your stock go-to pic in times of need.  Whether or not you’ve sent one and whether or not you’ve even taken one, you’ve thought about it.

So where do you fit in to this discussion?  How experienced are you in the world of photo sexting?  I have a buddy of mine who does quite well with the ladies, and yet claims he has never been sent a nude photo.  This strikes me as odd.  Any other guys out there in this boat?  And ladies, I also know a number of women who have claimed never to have sent a dirty pic, and yet on the opposite end of the spectrum, I know a number of women who send dirty pics with alarming frequency.  Ladies and Gentlemen, where do you fall on the scale of innocent to naughty texting?  And if you do send them, what’s the criteria (who gets them, when, how naughty, face included or not, etc)?

Emojis In Technology Courtship

Trains, planes, automobiles, and an entire host of other inanimate objects, animals, and winky faces. Despite having real trouble figuring out where I might use some of the more obscure emojis, I use the living fuck out of certain select group, when speaking to a certain select audience (read this as, girls I want to bed/girls I am currently bedding /girls I want to bed again). The three below are my go-tos. Why? Because these little yellow facial expression enable and empower me to say whatever the fuck I want, no matter how suggestive, dirty, blunt, or just downright offensive it is… and to get away with it. It’s like a little yellow button that says “oh yeah, I said that… but I didn’t say that… but I really did say that messed up, dirty, filthy thing… But it’s okay because I winked.” I branch out from time to time, but with just these three favorite winky faces I can say, or not say, whatever I want… And make it acceptable.  Here is how I use them.

e405 1)       for anything said that is lightly/playfully suggestive in manner.

 

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2)       I can’t believe you/I just said that!

 

 

 

download (1)3)      yes, I said that downright filthy thing/I’m horny/that nude photo you just sexted me is amazing (they never really are amazing, it’s a bathroom mirror after all, but the key to getting more is to set a tone that encourages more… The whole, you attract more bees with honey thing)

One piece of advice. Always let the female take the lead. Do not wink until winked upon. In fact, do not wink for as long as you possibly can. Only start winking when you are completely sure an emoji is the thing necessary to push things on to the next level. Let’s be honest… You are a full grown man and you are using little yellow cartoon faced symbols to convey your words, your thoughts, your intentions. No matter what stage in your texting back and forth that you employ an emoji, it will always give off and air of juvenile/childlike demeanor. If you haven’t yet established with your female texting partner just how much of a grown man you truly are before employing an emoji, then be ready to be viewed as juvenile or childish, possibly creepy. If, on the other hand, you have achieved your man card in her eyes, the emoji instead becomes a playful gesture. Know the timing, know the difference. Don’t lead with the emoji. Play the emoji card at the right time.