Unsolicited Penis Portraiture…a devilishly clever phrase. But what’s it mean?
In a nutshell, people sending unrequested sex-selfies of their intimate body parts to others. Men love sending sexy selfies (or sexlfies) of their junk according to a recent New York Post article. Women do also, but their sexflies are mostly solicited.
That’s all intriguing, but my concern is sex-selfies period.
As a teen, I rarely credited my parents with having brains, nevermind advice worth listening to. My father never talked about dating (he simply didn’t let us date), but as I went 2,000 miles away to college at 17, Daddy imparted a few words of widsom:
1. Don’t give boys your money.
2. Don’t take or allow naked pictures of yourself.
Yeah, I know. Strange. No study hard, ace everything, stay safe, make us proud…these were givens. And to be fair, my dad was a lawyer, so he’d seen the worst in men.
Many years have passed since then, in which time I totally botched Numero Uno. Yes, I admit it. Got swindled by a few losers whose plights tugged at my heartstrings…frigging prodigies at borrowing money, but remedial at paying it back.
But somehow, Daddy’s sexlfie advice must have sunk into the recesses of my brain and stuck. Presently working on marriage number two, I am certain both my husbands would have loved a few sexlfies of me. Both knew not to ask.
Love is a many splendored thing, but divorce rates prove it’s also transient in many cases. And divorce or any relationship ending can be bloodier than a WBA championship match. Don’t believe it?
Think Waiting to Exhale torched car….
Or Fatal Attraction Peter Rabbit on high boil.
The point being a whole lot of people are getting extra over lost love…in film and real life.
Years ago, a few pics in the wrong hands – not so bad. I mean what could they do with them besides a peep show with their pervert buddies? Maybe send them to your friends, your parents, your boss…okay, that’s bad.
But nowadays, people on the edge got mad options. With the Internet, your golden globes, vajayjay, or wiener (sorry, Anthony) can travel the world…from New York to Timbuktu and back again.
So my advice is the same dear old Dad’s, who apparently really did have a brain.