A couple of weeks ago I noticed a post from a friend complaining about unsolicited Dick Pics’ being sent to her online. For some reason, a bunch of “men” had found it in themselves to introduce themselves via a portrait of their penis. Obviously, she was upset about this kind of behaviour and the highly dubious activities of these blokes, but she seemed equally confused as to why they would appeal to her at such a low level.

Being a logical bloke, her predicament got me thinking about the driving force, or science, of such an activity. My curiosity piqued (not in a perverted manner mind you) and I went about researching why men take such extraordinary actions to attract females. I wanted to know if they were desperately seeking a relationship, completely ignorant about what is acceptable in society, drunk, or simply stupid with the lack of prior knowledge that not only does this type of silly nonsense does not attract females but it can actually scare them off.

I considered the Darwinistic approach of human evolution from apes, or in this case, baboons. Clearly, the primal instinct clock for these chaps stopped several generations ago with their desire to dangle a doodle to attract a mate. Apes, monkeys, baboons all have similar mechanisms for attracting a partner by displaying their physical prowess to females as a display of dominance, strength, and character. Female primate may display their buttocks, much similar to how they are revealed today with those sideways-selfie pics you see so often in front of bathroom mirrors or such. This remains my strongest theory that for these guys that their primal evolutions seems to be frozen in time to a period when Mammoth Tusk necklaces represented the ideal wedding anniversary gift and Pterodactyl wing shawls would almost certainly win the right girl over.

If evolutional development wasn’t to blame, then I wondered if it was due to modern trends or culture that this was the thing to do. I myself have been out of the dating scene for a while, but things do change I accept and it could be a fair hypothesis to presume that this was acceptable today; that is to say that my friend, and I for that case, were simply out of touch with popular culture. To test such a theory could would me to flash my junk around popular hang-outs, pubs, nightclubs (if they still exist?) and bars. Such a bold move all in the name of research I guess, but like the naturalist, I decided to opt for observation and simply gawked at the various crotches of men in my local pub hoping to see a flash or at least a partially opened zipper of my fellow men at arms.

Neither a willy nor winky appeared, much to my disappointment, and somewhat sense of relief for that matter. “Maybe I was in the wrong type of bar?” I thought to myself, so I tested my pop culture penis theory out in several bars to see if it was feasible. Nadda. Not a baloney pony in sight on the dance floor, although there was a number of very tightly stretched leather crotches in a bar called “The Flaming Flamingo” which did hold plenty of promise. Ironically there wasn’t a woman in sight at this establishment.

Darwinism and Pop Culture aside, I figured this could come down to a select breed of the individual in some kind of sub-culture thing. A secret club with its own distinct rules, laws, and signs. Maybe the whole penis pic invite was in fact like a secret handshake or possibly a code word to help ensure the integrity of the clubs members and whom they interact with. It certainly didn’t seem to be a pop culture thing so keeping such a club would need some pretty specific vetting of new members I guess. Presumably, club members would be promoted through the ranks from something like Corporal Cobra through to Lieutenant Lefty, Major Muscle and led by the Chief Of Staff?

As glamorous as a secret sausage club sounds my gut feeling is that I’m off on this theory due to the pure prevalence and frequency of dick pics being sent to my friend. She was either completely naive and surrounded by a community of these perverted peeps or something else was astray. Perhaps she was subconsciously inviting them to take such action in order to draw her attention?

Alas, she wasn’t a beef baton beacon from what I could establish from her profile. Nowhere did she indicate that she preferred to gawk at Gary the glue shooter or that she admired the Big Dipper. From what I could establish she did like to cook and walk on the beach but didn’t suggest the Albino Asparagus was on the menu nor was she on the hunt for Moby Dick. Nothing of any subtle significance featured on her profile so I almost certainly could rule her out of the equation.

I had reached a precarious predicament in my scientific research on the matter. None of my theories so far made sense and I couldn’t really start polling people on the streets either. I feared such an action would only see me locked up in a cell with an 180-pound hairy-backed biker who probably would take it the wrong way if I asked him if he ever used his wang to attract a mate.

He’d probably take me the wrong way too for that matter…

My best guess is that flashing the filly tamer is purely a matter of pot-luck. Like the lottery or one-armed gaming machines you might hit the jackpot and win the prize, but the worse case scenario is a few pennies spent. (Or possibly being locked up for indecent exposure with Bob the backside burner biker as mentioned above?) These guys are just testing their luck by attempting to make friends with pleasure pump profile pics. It’s a risky strategy, to say the least, I for one wouldn’t dare attempt it with my partner due to the various precarious scenarios.

Primarily there is the obvious laugh factor betting odds at play here because let’s face it, there is no good side to a penis profile all by itself. No decent selfie stick could do the angles any justice and the concept of using a drone to capture the right moment gives me the shivers with all those flailing blades. With my luck, I’d try to zoom in and find myself nursing multiple cuts to my bags of joy before admitting myself to the hospital A&E department. No, I’m afraid the only decent looking photo’s of tonsil tickler anatomy I’ve seen must’ve required a second person to take the photo and possibly third to get the right lighting conditions, which only raises a number of awkward questions.

Even on a good day and if all the right numbers appeared on your lottery ticket of lust, it begs the question of what to do next? What, pray tell, would one of these guys do if the new friend invite was eagerly taken up and an open invite extended forth? This scenario may lead the unsuspecting python of love photographer into all sorts of uncompromising positions, especially if the new friend is happily married to her bisexually inclined partner Arthur the anal abominator. Can you imagine the look on his face when you accept his friendship invite with a “Hey there, do you have a PVC catsuit and nylon stockings outfit to meet me in?”

Clearly, there is no single valid reason for men sharing their latest lap rocket photography experiment with unsuspecting strangers. They do it for a lark, with primal instincts, and in the game of better one-upmanship over their rival colleagues. But mainly they do it because they are jerks who know no better. They are probably bitter and twisted individuals who have knob envy over the gaming console which has a bigger joystick that they do and would only last the distance of a flash of lightning in the bedroom. Chances are they have probably already sexually satisfied themselves by the time you’ve even seen their message invite. To this, I can only apologise on behalf of all decent men around the world, especially those who mould their entire lifestyle to understanding and appreciating the beauty of a woman that extends far beyond the human eye.