I often detect a rage when women receive dicpics. It’s considered extremely offensive, well right down criminal to send pictures of male organs. It’s seldom considered as a single individual’s behavior, but it being interpreted as a part of sort of pattern. Often referred to the so called patriarchy,

That is a bit of a mystery to me, that strong reaction. Of course I sympathize with the disgust, but my experience with dicpics is not that men are trying to dominate me, or that they are part of some sort of global conspiracy to break down women by showing flesh. No, I understand it on whole other levels.

Firstly, it’s seems to be a way of showing off what one thinks are the best bits. Like being proud of a pair of fine breasts, long beautiful hair or manicured nails. Many men are proud of their manhood and get genuinely happy if you praise it. Why not? In a world of visual sex – porn, porn, porn – dicks are everywhere and just like social media distorts women’s view of themselves and what is supposedly attractive – why wouldn’t men be just as affected? And that showing off part, is vital for getting laid – ask any good looking male bird, waving feathers. Why wouldn’t human males keep up the the evolutionary tradition.

Secondly I think it’s a way of showing appreciation. I mean, we don’t get aroused by just anybody – there has to be an inch of attraction to get hard or wet. Of course, it is all in our heads, and I have no idea what vulgar fantasies the dicpic-photographer has made up but still, I am being courted. It’s an admittedly not always such a wise way to try and connect, but personally I don’t see it as a threat.

What I am trying here is not to downplay anybody’s experience of the discomfort of having a dick in the inbox. But I wish to put things in perspective. There are far worse things in life.

Personally, I do actually like looking at men’s cocks. They are often beautiful. With purple veins. A drop of precum. Some are circumcised, some not. I like to see if the balls are shaved, and I like to see the hand that sometimes accompanies the picture. His nails, his grip. If it’s a film clip, what pressure he uses. His moans, how long h takes to come. How the sperm comes out – like a fountain, dripping? No, I am not threatened. No, I don’t feel offended or abused. I see a human being trying his best to be seen and appreciated. Taking out his lust via me. No more, no less. Nothing to be scared or angry about. Just life, in one of its trillions of forms.