Holy shit. Until I figure out how we are going to proceed I have decided to continue the maddening swiping process.

It has been a tough day. My depression has set into the manic phase. My mind will not stop going. A million different errant thoughts piling up. I am growing paranoid. 
If you have ever read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I am roughly between ether being a horrible drug and the bar scene with blood on the floor and lizard people. If you have not read it you should. Do Hells Angels first though. Trust me. I have a blog.

I used to crave the quiet moments. Sitting on the couch, watching TV and goofing off on the phone. Now it is too quiet. It is too still. I find hours lapse and I have no recollection. I just stare at badly put of focus pics and play god swiping to and fro. It is not as fun as I expected. Almost feels like a job.
And the inability to tell who is real in their profiles and who is trying too hard becomes numbing. I have set a new rule that if there is no pic it is an automatic right. Russian roulette for the modern age. I am nearly to the point of Snapchat filters being an auto yes as well. 

Because why not? Make the stakes higher. 

I had a chat today for the first time. It went as well as I expected. Zero game. Sad. I went in to win and came out whipped. She was looking for sex and I was looking to escape. I am so not ready for this. I tried. In the end that matters. Right?

I do not know how to talk to a woman any longer. My base skills have deteriorated. My quick wit failed me in the face of five minutes of naughty time. 

She said I was hot. I thanked her. Seriously. I said thank you. Fuck. I tried to wheel the ship and mentioned she looked very attractive in the photos as well. She asked for a pic.
I took the pic attached below. She liked it. I asked for one back. Tit for tat. It was a pic of her breasts. Twit for tit seems apropro. I froze. They were nice. And unsettling. This really escalated. I expounded upon the wondrous virtues. She asked for another pic. A lower pic. 

Um. Uh. Gulp. 

Dick pics. Why the fuck would someone want a picture of the ugliest organ? And how are you supposed to present it? Hard? Halfway to chub? Do you want balls with that? If the idea of taking a profile pic is beyond most people, framing the shaft is fucking rocket science. And I would hazard a guess even NASA has no good method for taking the cock shot. Hell it took miners to destroy the asteroid that killed Bruce Willis. 

I may need a good testicle groomer and glamour shot person. Put my penis in a cardigan and get the camera flashing. Work that purple headed beast. Give that tallywacker a good tug and let’s mingle. I am so not prepared for this world. 
So with tail firmly between legs I declined. She tried. Told me how wet she is. I assume because it has been raining outside. Certainly not because of the mad skills I was straight spitting. I made a few more pathetic attempts. Then gracefully bowed put and deleted the chain of embarrassment. 

Day 2 was an abject failure. 

The face of a man with no dick pic game.