• Assume that whoever you are sexting will show your messages to at least seven other people.
Sexting. Why is it so damn fulfilling? You may recall that I’m on a sexual fast and have been getting all my kicks lately from self-stimulation. I watch sexy movies, fixate on an object of my desire or use my imagination.
But for the past few weeks, it’s been something else. His name is Alan. He is 28. He works for a media house. Flirting with a fellow scribe is nice because he is quick-witted and funny.
Our text messages started out innocently enough. We would exchange videos. Discuss world affairs. Exchange story ideas. Then slowly it started to evolve. Crossing over from platonic messaging to something illicit is not an overnight thing. It’s very gradual. Almost like testing the waters before sliding into your bath. If it’s too hot, you must add cold water, if it’s tepid, you must crank up the heat. It’s foreplay. It’s all about the build up.
There is a friend of mine who sent a picture of her panties around a gearshift to a guy she was sexting. Let me just say that timing is everything. If someone is not at home, kicking back on his couch, you may want to give them a heads up before you send something like this. Or God forbid, a nude.
The guy was in a meeting. He has those phones with a huge screen and when he opened the message, everyone on the table saw the thong. There needs to be etiquette for this kind of thing. Can we make that rule number one? Always send a disclaimer before sending risqué pictures. NSFW (Not safe for work) should do the trick, and then followed with whatever you want to send.
Which brings me to my next pet peeve. Guys, nobody wants to see your manhood. NOBODY. Dick pics are not interesting in any shape form or size. I know a lot of you want validation, you want a woman to say, “Oh wow, you are huge!” or whatever response you hope to get but instead usually, it is deafening silence, meaning we don’t like them. Don’t send them. Especially if they are unsolicited.
I received one and was pretty grossed out. It was shiny, like he had put Vaseline or something on it, the lighting was awful, and ya, there was nothing artsy about it. I laughed when I saw it. Then he wanted me to reciprocate and I laughed even louder.
”I’m not sending you shit,” I proclaimed. He felt some type of way but I didn’t care. If you want to go around sending people pictures of your junk, that’s your problem. No way in hell will I ever do the same.
So as heated as things get when I’m sexting Alan, the only visuals he gets are pictures of my lingerie. I place it on the bed and take some shots of whatever I’ll be wearing that day. He doesn’t get pics of me actually wearing the items. Perhaps some thigh here and there through a sexy slit or maybe some cleavage. That’s it.
Which brings me to sexting etiquette rule number 2. This is an optional one and more of a precaution. Assume that whoever you are sexting will show your messages to at least seven other people.
Assume also, that one day, you will fall out, he will hate your guts, and a million people on the Internet might see the messages you send. Always assume the worst! When you do that, you will probably just limit your visuals to lingerie pics like I do. Ha ha ha!