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For you. Just so you know my sex since that’s apparently a concern of yours.
I opened it, expecting a dick pic. Because of course. The possibility disappointed me. I hated when someone turned out to be predictable.
But when I clicked to download it, the picture that emerged was not of an erect penis. No, it was of a golden-skinned man with washboard abs and tattoos of palm fronds on either side of his groin just above the waistband of his plaid flannel pajama bottoms.
Oh, and a cat. He wasn’t wearing the cat as an accessory. The cat’s fluffy black bulk was draped over cabin-candy guy’s discreetly hidden groin, staring at the camera with the cool green disdain that only a cat could pull off.
My mouth was now officially dry. Those abs were things of beauty.
How to respond? I’d just go by instinct.
I can reverse image search that to see if it’s widely available, you know.
Be my guest. You going to send one back?
Send what back?
A picture.
Oh, are we internet dating now? Should I tell you my measurements, my astrological sign, and what enneagram I am, or do you want to go first?
Now she’s angling for my measurements. Beginning to think someone is a pervert and it’s not me.
Again, why would I troll on a kitten rescue site? Isn’t that what Tinder is for?
Oh, I knew you seemed familiar. Is your screen name Vulva69 on there?
As much as I liked a snarky man, I didn’t respond immediately.Just to ease my mind, I did that reverse image search. No such thing existed.
By then he’d sent another picture, this one of the gold collar with reflective paw prints the black kitty wore in the photo, looped around his fingers. Both collars said Lucky on their little fishy tags.
Enough for you?
Sure. Yeah. I guess. Whatever.
You googled, didn’t you?
So you have a pussy.
If you mean cat, yes. As you can see, his name is Lucky and he rules the roost. Are you really wanting playdates with an actual cat for your DSH?
So hehadgone back to check out my previous post on the server. And he appeared to be comfortable with the term DSH, so he at least knew that much.
I supposed I would tentatively trust hot-abs guy—at least for now. Until he slipped up and I caught him in a lie.
Do you spray tan?
What? No. Of course not.
Do you live in Kensington Square?
I’m local. Are you?
Depends. Where do you live?
Like an address?
No, like spatial coordinates. Yes, an address.
