Yeah. I want money. Lots of it. Don’t give a shit. But I’m not writing this post to advertise my smut (would take away the point of publishing under a pseudonym); I’m telling you I'm fucking sick of creepy fucking men.
But let me backtrack. When I realized I couldn’t make money blogging, I quit that shit to focus on the writing I care about: the novel I’ve been writing since forever (now on the fifth draft), and the screenplays I’ve been writing with Roger. I still wanted short-term cash, however, so I brainstormed easy writing options. Wasn’t long before I realized, hey that shitty Fifty Shades of Grey shit made fuck-tons of cash; I want cash; smut is the rigoddamndiculously easiest thing to write and won’t take time away from my real writing; I’m gonna write smut.
Turns out, as quick and easy as it is to write smut, it’s hard as hell to sell, or maybe I just suck at selling it, or maybe the market’s glutted with smut. Point is, to date I’ve made five dollars. My revenue might pick up, but I’m not keeping my fingers crossed. I haven’t been able to budge my sales numbers even after exploding my online presence. During the few months of her existence, fake me has managed to garner thousands more online friends than real me will ever now. (I wish that my fake twitter and facebook blowing the fuck up would translate to sales, but I’ve yet to crack that code. Maybe I just need to write a different kind of smut (BDSM creeps me out, so I write chaste love story shit with some sex sprinkled throughout.)
As to why I decided to use a female pseudonym, a few reasons: one, I wanted it to be less likely anyone would link fake me to real me; two, I’ve never fully identified as male, so writing as female seemed logical; and, three, I thought I could make more money writing smut as a woman. The last reason was cynical, I know, and as it turns out, wrong. Still, I’m glad I decided to write as a woman because it’s opened my eyes to an entire online world I had no idea existed. In creating a female persona (granted, one with a particularly large online presence—seriously, fake me interacts with so many more people on a daily basis than real me will ever know), I feel like I’ve taken whichever one of those Matrix pills lets you see…uh, the Matrix or something. Ok, I haven’t seen the Matrix in fucking years and can’t remember the references and shit. Point is, the internet is different when you’re a woman.
I’ve seen a lot of dicks is what I’m saying. How many dicks? All the dicks. Picture yourself in that boat that gets hijacked by child Jason at the end of the first Friday the 13th, but in this scenario you’ve managed to kick that kid to death and started swimming back to shore, but uh oh, you can’t swim, but don’t worry the lake is filled with life-preservers, except instead of life-preservers, they’re dicks, and you’re not in a lake but a Chuck E Cheese ball pit and all the balls are dicks—also, testicles.
The first time I received an anonymous dick pic, I was all “…?” It’s hard to overstate how weird and random the anonymous dick pic is unless you’ve received your first in your mid-thirties. Someone I don’t know just sent me a private message? Ooh, human contact. Yay!!!! I’m a depressive-as-fuck person so any type of contact from another person gets me giddy, makes me feel like there’s something about me (or at least the fake me I’ve constructed on-line) that seems interesting enough to a stranger that he’d wanna get to know me further. I opened the message and instead of words it was just a picture of an erect penis.
No context? No hello? No what are you into? Just: 8====) (except instead of my symbol penis, a real penis; and you don’t want to see it.) After getting over the creepy presumptuousness that this stranger would think it would make my day to see his erect piss hose, I giggled at the randomness of it (to send a stranger an unsolicited pic of your dick makes about as much sense as sending a stranger an unsolicited pic of Richard Speck). But after the first dick pic, when the floodgates burst and I was inundated with dick pics, when I saw so many random dicks that the flesh tubes lost all context, becoming abstract formations of pixels on my screen, another thought overwhelmed me: dicks are fucking boring. Like super boring. Like why would anyone who doesn’t have a penis care about this shit boring.
Like, I get it, dudes, your penises gives you pleasure; when you’re feeling pleasure you want to share that pleasured feeling with all of existence. But guess what? The image of your dick in its pleasured state doesn’t give pleasure. And another guess what, all dicks look the fucking same. There are only two varieties: hooded and non-hooded. Unless you’ve got enough extra testicles that your scrotum looks like a sack of oranges, and enough extra shafts that you can stage at least one Mexican stand-off with your cock, your dick looks no different than 99% of dicks in existence. I can’t overstate how boring your dick is. As I’ve already said, I’ve never felt completely male, so this whole anonymous dick pic shit was foreign to me before I was harassed with anonymous dick pics (I’ve never looked at my crotch and thought, “I’m really proud of my penis today. Other people should see this. Where’s my phone?”), but now it feels just so much more bizarre.
That’s just the anonymous dick pics. What’s been even more discouraging is the dick pics I’ve received from online people I thought were my online friends. Granted, this scenario hasn’t arisen as often as the anonymous dick pic, but it bothers me even more. It makes me feel as if I’ve been tricked. Some stranger messages me, mentioning something I’ve posted, how much he likes it and all. I get giddy with the confirmation that something I’ve done matters. I respond with a thank you. Meantime I go to his page and compliment him on something he’s posted. You know, just a general back-and-forth mutual respect exchange. Then, like four messages in, in response to my opinion on his opinion on the feud between Tay Tay and Nicki (me taking Nicki’s side, natch, ‘cause fuck that untalented Tay Tay) he responds with a wordless dick pic.
What a fucking bummer it is when you start to find a rapport with someone you think respects you on an intellectual level, only to find out he’s been interacting you with this entire time because he’s been trying to figure out how to get you wet (or scared—most of these douchebags just want to make you uncomfortable). I thought he cared about my opinion on this matter, but no, he cared that someone with a female name interacted with him. Clearly his brain circuits fried, sending the message OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD GIRL TALKING TO YOU SHE WANTS YOUR PENIS WHY AREN’T YOU SHOWING HER YOUR PENIS IF YOU DON’T SHOW HER YOUR PENIS NOW SHE’LL DISAPPEAR BEFORE YOU CAN PUT YOUR PENIS INSIDE HER SHOW HER YOUR PENIS YOU PUSSY.
More upsetting is the porn images and gifs I’ve been getting. It’s a sign that you’ve been in this shit too long that you see as a positive sign a private message gif of a 2m/1f threesome in which, after getting fucked doggystyle by the guy on top, the woman queefs the first dude’s semen into the open mouth of the man waiting below her. I mean, at least the second dude in this gif is the bottom. It’s a step up from the violent and rapey porn shit anonymous fucks have been privately messaging. And then there’s just the miscellaneous weird shit, like the dude whose avatar was an erect penis asking me for my address (I’m a naturally paranoid person, so I turned off my computer after receiving that message, worried this potential rapist could track me down). And then there was the unsolicited dick pic I received from a dude whose avatar was a close-up pic of a penis inside a vagina (the unspoken message there being, “Play your cards right and you could be the lucky lady whose genitals are hugging mine in my profile pic.”)
I realize as I write all this that I probably come across as one of those naïve privileged straight-white-male douche-bags who discovers some fucked-up thing that has existed since forever and Columbuses his ass all over the issue, acting like he’s the first person to discover this shit. That’s not what this post is about. Plenty of amazing female writers have already discussed the issue of online harassment; and you should read their posts instead of mine. That’s not the reason I wrote this. Why did I write it? I don’t know. I guess it falls into the category of “shit that’s been going in my life.” Maybe I also wanted to send a public service message to creepy dudes everywhere: The next time you send a pic of your penis to some hot woman on the internet, the only person who will see it is some hairy sweaty dude in his boxers. And he thinks your penis sucks.