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Curt the Cocky Cowboy or Pirate Pete the Penis. Your choice…

Oh, this is really too much. Even for me…        

Phallic parnsnip

Image by Fireflies604 via Flickr

Remember my penchant for attracting togder photos? Well, I decided to give the penis a special mention in the internet dating guidebook I’m trying to write.

The chapter kinda goes something like this: Ladies, make sure you have eaten a light breakfast before reading this section. Take a couple of steadying breaths and hold my hand while I take you into the murkier side of online dating.

Tallywhackers. Biggus Dickus. Cockosaurus Rex.

Sisters, welcome to the world of Mr Winkey.

From the moment you sign up, be prepared for an inbox full of Purple Peckers in all their morning-glory. You’ll get short ones, skinny ones, fat ones, hairy ones, Brazilian ones, bent ones, thick ones, winking ones, smiling ones and even Mr Sad-Faced ones.

Instead of leaving it there, I had to go one step farther and add the ridiculous:

You’ll get willies in wellies, raincoats and berets…

I was playing around with other ludicrous images to finish the sentence – Stetson-style cowboy hats, Elvis quiffs and custom-made Ros Stewart wigs.

As you do.

But I couldn’t get the phrasing right, so just for fun, I Googled ‘Penis dress-up outfits’. Well! Tickle my foot with a feather, they do actually make dressing-up costumes for Wally the One-Eyed Wonder Wiener! Seriously! You can have Pirate Pete the Penis, or Phallic Fred the Fireman. There’s Private Willy who stands to attention in his army fatigues, or George the Gangsta Genitalia! If you’re in the mood for riding rough, slip your favourite cock into a cowboy costume. Or fancy playing Doctors and Nurses? That’s right! Pick up a set of scrubs for your very own Dr Dick.

And the best bit? All these outfits come complete with matching hats for Happy Harry’s … head!

Don’t believe me? See for yourself!

Or if that’s just a little too wacky for your tastes, but you’d still like a gift to keep your Main Man snuggly, try a dish-cloth penis cozy. Yep, Bernie’s making ’em to order over on One Mixed Bag.  Send her the required measurements and the sparks’ll soon be flying off her crochet hooks!        😉    

As for me, I’m gutted. If only I’d believed in my own stupidity, I could’ve been that Dress-up-your-Dong-dot-com-millionaire!


A decidedly dirty date…

The worst thing about internet dating is the actual dates.  

Bob the builder

He couldn't fix it...

Meet Adrian, aged 49, builder, and a bit of a knob. I knew this because I’d met him years ago when he’d built a shed for my neighbour. Last week he contacted me through my oh-so-fabulous dating site, and suggested dinner.

I wasn’t keen. He wore down my resistance, and we compromised with takeaway pizza at his house. Do I know how to have fun, or what?

I knew Adrian had a dog because he’d posted a photo of it on his site. A ratty looking, terrier thing with an evil glint in its eye, so I took my dog along. Mainly because I thought they’d scrap and I’d have an excellent excuse to make a fast getaway. Wrong! They immediately became the best of Pedigree Chums, the traitors!

Well, Adrian built his house and I was honoured to have the guided tour. I couldn’t comment on the actual building because I couldn’t see any of it underneath the piles of junk, hanging cobwebs and filthy, dirty dishes. It was foul! Even the dogs declined to jump on the furniture for fear of the resident wildlife…

Two rats...

Yikes! There's two of them!

I perched precariously on the edge of a chair, nursing tea from a stained, chipped mug and wondering how the hell I was gonna dispose of it, when the ratty dog thing leapt on my lap, bouncing me backwards. Adrian was warbling on about his new teeth, screwed in that day and giving him jaw-ache. Well, that made two of us. The terrier thing lunged at me, pinning my hair down to the back of the sofa, and started snogging my face. I couldn’t move! Hot tea was slopping down my leg. I tried swatting him away with my free hand but the mutt was on a mission. My dog, thinking Woof! That’s a fun game! jumped up and squatted on my free arm. (He’s a big, butch labrador, but he has no brain.)

It was a canine snog-fest with me caught in the middle, making this muffled, strangulated noise out of the corner of my mouth; I was too scared to open it – a dog’s tongue would’ve been in there tickling my tonsils. ‘Gerrofff….’elp….meeee…’toff… fcks…seck….arghh…’eeellllpppp…’

Adrian was completely oblivious. He was too engrossed in his new diatribe against self-obsessed women to notice that his dippy, demented dog was eating my face.

Us girls only want a bloke for his wages. Nobody’s interested in a lowly builder. Poor Adrian can’t find a woman because he isn’t bringing in the dosh.

If I could’ve opened my mouth, I would’ve put him straight: poor Adrian can’t find a woman because he’s a bit of a knob.

No crudity, please; we’re British…

Doggy Style

Image by Travis S. via Flickr

And the don’ts:

Don’t start with the sex-talk. Do you like it doggy-style? as an appropriate  conversation opener? I think not. Women already believe most men are purely after sex, why add logs to the fire? And I seriously never, ever  wanna see another photo of  Thunder the Wonder Horse. Even if it is smothered in whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate. Leave it for the bedroom. If you get that far.

Don’t believe everything you’re told. Men and women commonly shave a few numbers off their age and add it to their height to make themselves appear more attractive. Others lie about their job. Hell, some people even forget they’re married. Take it all with a healthy dose of skepticism until you find out for sure.

Don’t post photos of you with your ex. Yes, I know you don’t want to come across as a desperate, lonely sod, but again, it smacks of ‘I’m just sooo not over her/him/it’. Ditto with pictures of your children.  You just can’t assess someone as a possible date when they’re playing mum or dad. Two different roles. And it feels wrong to even be looking. More to the point, who on earth thinks it’s okay to plaster photos of their kids all over the internet?

Don’t blast someone you like with loads of messages in one day. It smacks of desperation. People do have lives. Most of us aren’t sitting by the computer, waiting for a member of the opposite sex to throw us a scrap of attention. Be patient, and don’t get abusive. Give them twenty-four hours and move on.

Don’t tell someone your life-story in one e-mail. It’s boring, and personal stuff is far better explained face-to-face.  Ask questions of the other person, keep the dialogue moving. Stick to light-hearted, flirty and brief. And no crudity, please; we’re British.

And whatever you do, don’t  get hung up on one person. Even if he is gorgeous and you’d secretly named all your future children and picked out and decorated a nice little cottage for you all by the sea. If only he’d dump that trollop of a woman and come back to me…Mmm…Meringue Man  😉

Do add a photo. Don’t go commando…

Rhino Rump

Image by TheBusyBrain via Flickr

Seeing as I’m having such a fab time internet dating, I thought you might fancy dipping your toes in the online dating pool. I’ve listed a few tips to get you started:


Nah, only kidding. I’m having a great time. Really.

Do add a profile. Seems obvious, right? But so many drongos just write blah, blah or copy and paste one scintillating phrase to fill the space. Usually it’s something really witty like I am the man with the golden tongue. Yeah, you need to see that seventeen times before breakfast. Your profile should be an introduction, giving the reader an idea who you are, what you’re personality’s like and what kind of partner you’re looking for. Oh, and don’t moan about your ex; grudge-carriers are so unattractive, dahling.

Do add a recent photo. Yes, I know there’s one of you vaguely resembling Bruce Willis during his Die Hard phase, but it’s twenty-years-old. Make it real. You’ll only get caught out in the end. And please make sure you’re wearing clothes. Save the nudity for actual dates. When the lights are off.

Do develop a  rhinoceros-hide layer of skin. But don’t, for the love of God, post the photo! Some of your messages will be ignored. It goes with the territory. Take a breath and move on. Their loss, not yours. Unless you’re a penis-cleaving, bunny-boiling psychopath, of course…

Do stay safe. Keep all personal details private until you are sure you can trust someone. This includes surname, home phone number and address. Don’t become Facebook friends. Stick with the messaging services provided by your site and then move onto mobile numbers. Remember: Mr Sweet Talker may suddenly morph into Mr Backstreet Stalker. Not good.

Do talk on the phone before meeting. If you find yourself losing the will to live during a phone  conversation, you’re never going to click in real life. Take it from one who knows…

Finally, do take this whole online dating fiasco experience with a cellar’s worth of salt. Some people do find true lurve online, but for most of us, it’s like trying to find an undigested piece of carrot in a steaming great pile of Great Dane dog  doop.

If you want me to fall for you, give me something worth tripping over…

Candy the bulldog

Image via Wikipedia

Ye Gods, sack me now! I forgot a category in yesterday’s post. Let me introduce you to: 

Dick 007: Now, guys who fall into this category have – well, an unusual way of wooing women… I stumbled across the first one by accident, and boy! was I unprepared. Instead of uploading a picture of his face like the rest of us poor saddos, he chose instead, a photo of himself mid-coitus. A real zoomed-in, no-hair-follicle-left-to-the-imagination shot of himself doing the bizz with some fat chick  splendidly proportioned woman. At least I think it was a woman. It could actually have been a bulldog… 

In her position (pun intended) I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even want that particular print hanging around my house, but I’m absolutely certain I wouldn’t want it broadcast on the big ol’ World Wide Web. I mean, what was Dick 007 thinking? And what message was he sending out to us potential datees? I’d shag Les Dawson? 

Others in this category are more selective, preferring the er…more individual approach. Yep, that’s right – open up your inbox or Instant Messenger screen and up pops a purple pecker in all its morning-glory…

I mean, come on! We all know men are sexually aroused by pictures of naked women, but girls find full frontal male nudity about as appealing as a leg-wax. A close-up of Skippy and the twins? It’s not exactly a sunset over the sea now, is it?

Guys, there’s a time and a place for everything, and ‘Hello, here’s my todger’ really isn’t one of them.

The face that launched a thousand clicks…

Peito masculino peludo
Image via Wikipedia

Dating online is like selling double glazing; you have roughly twenty seconds to make a pitch before the door gets slammed in your face.

Unfortunately it’s your profile picture that pretty much determines if you’re in, or out. And I say unfortunately for those of us who will never be knicker-twitchingly gorgeous even when our mugs have been backlit by candlelight, and shot with a soft-focus lens. I know. I tried it.
Don’t despair, however; ugly people do still get laid.
But, for this post, I’m more interested in the hidden clues and messages men leave in their choice of profile picture…
  • The Peacock: He’s in the shower, lounging seductively on a bed or posing in front of a mirror. Wherever, but he’s in the buff and showing off a bunch of colourful tattoos, bulging biceps and enough chest hair to double up as a doormat. Trouble is, he’s forgotten to hide his builders’ bottom and well-defined beer-belly. Oh, and just for the record, guys – I don’t care how impressive your package is, squashing it into Union Jack pants is not a good look.  He’s trying to say, ‘I’m fit. How can you resist me?’ His photo is saying, ‘I’m a self-deluded dick. If you date this guy, just give up wearing make-up ‘cos you’re now third in line for the bathroom mirror, after your new man and his mammoth-sized ego.
  • The Family Man: He’ll be hugging a brood of small children and the family dog/cat/hamster. He’s trying to say, ‘Hey ladies! I’m a family man, a guy you can trust with anything small and furry!’ His photo is saying, ‘My ex took the kids. I’m lonely and desperate to be part of a family again. Look how easily I could slip into yours…’
  • The WYSIWYG: He’s wearing a wooly hat or his oldest jeans with a sweatshirt. He’s been captured in the moment of washing his car or walking the dog, and he’s smiling. What you see is what you get. No pretensions. No vanity. No major hang-ups. His picture does what it says on the tin.
  • The Bird Catcher: His arms are wrapped around another woman. She’s usually blonde and gorgeous, the bitch. He’s trying to say, ‘Look, I’m not desperate. I can pull fit birds anytime I like, it’s just that I’m a bit busy at the moment…’ His photo is saying, ‘ I am desperate. I spend my evenings on The blonde? Oh, she’s my sister…’
  • The Invisible Man: Yep, you guessed it; this guy has no photo, just a glaring blank where his face should be…Now I can understand a teacher choosing this option; who could cope with 4C taking the piss on a wet Friday afternoon. But for the rest of ’em, well, they’ve gotta be married. Simples!
  • The Size-Is-Everything Man: This bloke is sitting on, standing beside or lolling against a big shiny silver car, a monster motorbike no sane person would clamber upon, a fuck-off great big speedboat or a fearsome wild animal. Yep, Mr Cooldude is rubbing a tiger’s belly like you or I might tickle Fluffy the adorable kitty-cat. He’s trying to suggest strength, bravery and a wild throbbing engine, but guys, it comes across as Terrified Male With Size Of Willy Complex.
  • Mr Fun Guy: He’s been snapped at a party, in the pub or down the local nightclub. Location isn’t important as long as there’s alcohol – the more pints he can squeeze into shot, the better. He’s trying to say, ‘Hey babe! Look at me! I’m a good bloke, always up for a laff!’ His photo actually says, ‘Alcoholic.’  Avoid at all costs unless you’re happy clearing up vomit, and don’t mind changing the sheets at 4am because Funguy’s pissed the bed. Again.
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