Average Penis Guy! He is trying to get a spin-off deal from his very short lived series
“Whipped out the little head”. (see August 26 blog)
He reminds me of David Caruso’s career.
After behaving badly and being banned from ever performing for the Nadège Network again, Average Penis Guy began an email and text campaign to get a meeting with Ms. Prude, the aptly-named CEO.
Average Penis Guy would text at the exact same time, three times per day, every day for seven days. Breakfast, 9:06 am. Lunch, 2:11-3:00 PM and dinner for him, (cocktail hours for me) 7-10 pm.
It got to the point where I actually looked forward to the harassment.
He would text incredulous statements like:
“Are you seriously never going to talk to me again!”
Or gems like: “ C’mon, don’t be like that!” and “I deserve an explanation.”
WHAT! Seriously? Really!
My favorite text was on day four, during my favorite hour, the cock-tail hour. I roll over, freshly laid from my service provider’s first lackluster performance and reach for my cell phone. Average Penis Guy is now resorting to pouty threats.
“Fine, I am now deleting your contact info!” and, part 2 of text screen “I will leave you alone from now, I get it.”
I let out an involuntary chuckle. It’s about freaking time, considering I never replied to any of the texts!
Service provider is being nosy. “Curiosity kills the schlong”, I remind him purringly “and speaking of schlongs, I am so ready for another cock-tail”. He was too.
Privacy coupled with a service provision only agreement, has its definite advantages.
The next day, day five I get a traditional email. It’s an invitation to accompany Mr. Average Penis Guy to the screening of a film he was a DP on. Ignore.
Day six, I get a text. Wait, hadn’t he “deleted” me from his cellular life?
“ I got your number from that original email we exchanged way back, come with me to this screening, it’s at 7 Pm tonight, it might be good for you to network.” Ignore.
An opportunity for me to network? ‘Quel Moron, screenings are for the filmmakers, cast and crew, friends, family, supporters.’ I feel a soap-box moment attack, but I stave it off with some kegel exercises.
Lunch hour, instead of the usual text, the phone actually rings. He wants to confront me, face me as it were. I am tempted to let it go into voicemail just for the sheer pleasure of collecting material for a rant. He hangs up and robs me of this pleasure. Fine! Ignore.
How lucky am I? Here is an opportunity for me to get an answer to “What would possess a seemingly mentally stable, attractive, educated, formerly charming 39 year old man to whip out his cock at the end of what could have been the beginning of an adventurous 13 week cycle dramedy?!”
Final day, day seven. I call, after the stupidest text ever:
”You missed a great screening last night”, and I, pointedly, ask:
“Why did you do whip out your little head at the end of our date?!”
“I was immensely attracted to you, we were together all day, you were looking so hot...it was like dangling a steak in front of a starving man. What would you expect him to do, not take it?”
“Thank you...” I manage to get out, as I feel the non-existent hairs on my back rise.
“What for? ” he asks, salaciously. I can just hear a stupid grin of victory on his face.
“For that analogy, dude! It must be what rapists think!”
Silence. He hangs up.
Unlike David Caruso, Mr. Average Penis Guy will not get a comeback.
