Dating Dominica: PlentyofDicks.com
Plenty of dicks. That’s what Goldiecocks and I call it.
A dating website with a cesspool full of douche bags for you to waste your Friday nights on. From married men looking for a mistress to virgin geeks. Why wouldn’t I sign up for this three ring circus?! This is going to be entertainment at its finest!
I set up a profile complete with a cute tag name MissSweetD83 and fill out all the bullsh*t questions:
What’s your intent: Not to catch an STD.
Height: Fun sized.
Education: Yes I have a piece of paper.
Body type: I’m made up of mostly boobs, ass, and Snickers bars.
Marital Status: Single and feisty about it.
You get the point. I throw up a couple of selfies and let the shit show take its course.
To my surprise not only did I get a plethora of emails, my inbox was chock full with THE MOST random content one could lay eyes on. I was getting messages from transgendered folk, straight women looking to “try new things,” and a slew of dirty birds. I’m never going to meet anyone.
Open mouth, insert foot.
I receive the sweetest message from a man and he’s really cute. He has a full time job, no kids, divorced (I’ll let that slide) and his own place. Had I hit the plenty of dicks jackpot? We exchange a few messages and decide to take our chat offline. The text messages start slow but within days we are texting like high school teenagers. We talk about everything in life. What we want out of life, what we need out of life, and the shit we can do without. I told him some stories from my past and he told me all about his failed marriage. It seemed within a few days I had made an actual “connection” with someone from this site. I was stunned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was on here to get material for DatingDominica, not meet someone with actual potential.
It’s Friday night, I’m sitting at Hot Club with Goldiecocks, and a few other fabulous girly friends and I get a text, “So DatingDominica, know anything about this?” I respond, “Yes I do. I write a dating blog, I see you found it. Googling me?”
He responds, “Well I actually looked you up on Facebook first. Your profile was private so I couldn’t see anything. But it did provide me with your last name. I then proceeded to Google you and that’s when I found Mr. Smalldick.”
My first question is obvious, “What did you think? Good shit, right?”
He replies, “I don’t think I’m the big fat chorizo you’re looking for.”
What. The. F*ck!? Did this guy just admit to having a small penis?!?! Why yes, yes he did. I was floored. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have words.
So I replied, “I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what to say. It can’t be that bad can it?”
And to my surprise the pictures started flowing in. Of course I had to show the girls. (Yes, if you’re sending dick pics, she’s definitely showing her friends. And that goes for you too ladies. Send that tit pic, but crop your face out for crying out loud!)
And it was confirmed. He undeniably had a dick as small as the mushroom from Super Mario Brothers. Damnit. But wait, if I jump on it do I get taller? One can hope?!
What was I going to do?! I didn’t need another Mr. Smalldick in my life. But this guy was so nice. He actually called. Yes, picked up the phone and called me. What if this guy is a really good guy? Could I be missing out on something really good here? I go back and forth. Mr. Smalldick was amazing. Kind, sweet, adored me, put me on a pedestal. Girls would kill for that kind of treatment. But, then I think: I was in a relationship for 2 years with a man who loved me to the moon and back. But he wasn’t my lover. He was my best friend. I don’t need another best friend. I need a man. A lover. Maybe I’ll give him a chance. It can’t be that small, can it?
I reply, “It’s not THAT small”. When really all I’m thinking is: god damn it there will be no more starfish moves in my future!
I continue communication and for quite a few days as things seem to be going great. And well, the dick pics keep rolling in. Was his penis itty bitty, yep. But I was willing to take a chance. We make plans for Saturday night to grab drinks. And honestly speaking, I was so excited for this date. We start Facetiming on his work breaks and talking about how we would be able to see each other. He works 2nd shift and I’m on 1st. We discuss where he wants to live and where I could picture myself living. I tell him I love to watch movies on Netflix in my spare time and he then proceeds to buy a Roku the next day stating, “I’ve gotta keep my girl happy.” I’m amazed.
It’s Thursday night, the phone rings at 7 pm, the usual Facetime call is coming in. We talk about my day at work and how much I love my job and how much he hates his. He tells me I look beautiful without make up on. (He may be slightly blind? Not sure, but I’ll take it.) I asked him how POD is treating him and he replies, “I actually have only been on once since we’ve started talking. And I only went on to deactivate my account but couldn’t figure out how to do so on my smartphone.”
“Why would you deactivate your account?!” I exclaim.
“Well, I’m not really interested in meeting other woman. I think there may be a real connection here, and I’d like to see where things go with us.”
Of course I’m grinning ear to ear I gush “Awww, really? That’s sweet. But don’t deactivate it yet. You never know what can happen. You may meet me and not like me. Then you’ll have to fill out all the stupid questions again!”
This is my way of trying to be The Cool Chick when in all actually I’m like every other woman thinking delete that shit! We part ways as he has to go back to work and a sashay my way back in to the living room plop my ass on the couch and divulge my entire conversation to Goldie.
Then it happened. I get a message from a random man on the website. Now, I haven’t been really checking my account, but if I get a message I go on for the entertainment. And right below the message I see his screen name and directly underneath that I see: online now. Seriously? Being the outspoken female (Okay, bitch) that I am, I send a text: “Fishing for anything good?”
Within seconds shit hits the fan. “Are you spying on me? What do you have trust issues? I’ve been through this shit before and I’m not going to date someone that is so insecure that they can’t take my word for it when I tell them I’m not looking for other woman!”
Buddy, do you think I was born yesterday? I know we’ve never met but let me clue you in, I have more confidence than I know what to do with. So you can take your reverse physiology act elsewhere.
I immediately tell him I’m not in to drama, and I’m sure as shit not in to men who say one thing and do another. Do you think I really give a shit that you’re online perusing for pussy. Nope, sure don’t! But don’t lie to me. I politely tell him that I’m looking for someone who isn’t in to playing Jedi mind tricks on me and wish him well. Was I disappointed, absolutely. But Goldiecocks gave me an amazing piece of advice that night that I’ll never forget: Men who send dick pics before you even meet them aren’t to be taken too seriously. Touché.
Besides I’m no Princess f*cking Peach anyway.
Dominica Hernandez is still single and living in Warwick, Rhode Island. These stories are a collection of her experiences. Have a question or comment for Dominica? Email her: DatingDominica@gmail.com