So a friend of mine asked if it was cool if she tried to hook me up with her husband's friend. Apparently, she got the idea that this may be a good idea after hearing me complain about my loneliness during my Zoom birthday party. I have to say that I am shocked. None of my friends have ever tried to hook me up with anyone ever not ever not once. I lie. My freshman year of college, Big Homie Sans tried to hook me up with this dude named Carl. She figured that it was a match made in purgatory because we were both fat. He was...interesting. Imagine Egor from Winnie The Pooh with an afro. Boy, this was one unhappy guy. Lucky for me, I am into unhappy people. He wasn't into me though. After innocently calling him on New Year's of 2004 to wish him a happy holiday, he very aggressively rejected me like a poorly transplanted kidney. So again I was shocked when my friend circled back and asked if it was okay to give dude my social media handles. WHAT? Of course! I then went to my Instagram just because. Yikes.
There is nothing about my social media that displays me as hot. There is nothing about my social media that displays me as sexy. There is nothing about my social media that displays me as interesting, fun, cute, bangable, or remotely smashable at all! The only thing my IG makes clear is that I exist. That. Is. It. I scrolled through three years of pics and I was so disappointed. There was not one picture that would make me want to get to know me if I was a man. A man or even a woman looking for a platonic bestie! I don't have not one pic of me posted on the hood of a luxury vehicle. There are no pics of me smiling seductively at my fancily plated dinner. No pic of me from the back, standing with my hands outstretched on top of a mountain. It's depressing!
"You don't want a guy who wants you for your pics. You want a man that wants to get to know you," said Tiesha. What a good friend. She had time for my bellyaching even as she recovered from COVID. But she was mistaken and had no room to talk. All of her pictures, even the most casual ones, make it clear that she has a showstopping rack and good skin.
"I am going to call Von and see if I can get booked for one of his sexy, boudoir photoshoots," I grumped into the phone. I was half kidding. Even if I had the $3 Trillion bucks to book the shoot, I'm not that excited about a guy I went to college with seeing me hogtied in a thong. Tiesha let out a sigh/moan/cough. I don't think she was crazy about the idea either.
When I was too young to understand what she was talking about, an older woman in my grandma's retirement home told me in a hushed voice that men are visual creatures. I guess she thought to tell me this after watching me rub melted chocolate across my t-shirt and the lap of my jeans. I hope that this is not true, for I haven't taken a flattering pic in years! How does Megan the Stallion do it? Rubi Rose? Oprah? On top of this, my desire to get dressed up and be presentable dies with every passing day! But now that I am aware that folks are out here asking for socials...God, why do I even still care? If a picture is worth a thousand words, a few of mine are over it and exhausted with the process.
