2017 · single mom

why y’gotta be like that, dude?

Let me begin by saying you don’t have to know me too well to know I love social media.

In fact, I kind of live social media: it’s a part of my personal brand and my professional duties at work. My Twitter friends are as important to me as my IRL (in real life) friends, and when those two worlds meet? MAGIC HAPPENS YOU GUYS.

But, like all good things, social media has an ugly side. Because social media is a bridge, and we all know what you can find living under bridges: TROLLS.

(And not the treasure kind, lemme tell you.) 

At first, the mean comments would get under my skin. No matter how old you are when someone attacks you, it hurts. Finally, I accepted that I couldn’t beat them (but I sure as shit wasn’t going to join them), so I decided to take the high road and ignore. Fast forward a few years and several hundred followers later, I’ve encountered a new form of troll: the digital sexual harasser. 

(And trust me when I say there’s more than a few out there.)


It was bad enough when it was just Twitter DMs; I even recall sharing one dick pic with the guys in my department. Both were as shocked and disgusted as I was, not only that the photo was in my DM inbox but that some guy felt it was necessary to send it. Then I got SnapChat. OH MAH LAWD. Guys I’ve known since high school suddenly felt they should send me a picture of their junk, “cause it’ll be gone in 10 seconds and stuff” I guess?

(Also, fellas, if I didn’t ask to see it there’s a good chance I don’t want to view your wrinkly scrotum.)

(Also also: it’s really not that impressive.)

When Instagram messages first arrived on the scene, I actually didn’t notice. I was furious when I’d see a notification on the app, but couldn’t find it, until one day a friend showed me my message requests. Oops! 

Now you can reply to IG stories and photos via direct message to the person’s inbox. It’s great when my friends and I can interact this way, sharing excitement over one another’s day; it’s less great when some random-ass douchebag tells me my hair will be a mess when I’m “finished with his pipe” (*gag*).


Just because I’m a female on social media does not mean I want to see your dick, just as being a female, in general, doesn’t imply consent to see your junk or be touched. Women online and in real life aren’t here for your sexual gratification, fellas, and we deserve better. 

(PS. YOU can do better, too. Don’t be that guy.)

Also: I’m now responding to all future dick pics and requests for “a pic of dat pussy” with this:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s