This post contains explicit nudity …. the full frontal kind … you have been warned

The story starts in the land of WhatsApp, where all good stories start.

In this one I am sober.  It was the middle of the day (yes and I was sober) and I was working away like the industrious little worker bee I am.

I get this rather cryptic message – and it makes no sense.  It appears to be from a bloke named Patrick, and he is saying hi to his mate that he met in London, let’s call him Jeffrey.

I grasp I am not Jeffrey, unless that Bruce Jenner thing is contagious, but I play along.  I have a bit of time, and am looking for amusement and wish to sharpen my wit.

I answer the message and I make it clear that I am not in London. I was doing a quick up sell on Table Mountain and what ever else I could see out of my window.

On that particular day my wit was strong and I was actually being awfully funny.  This message banter went back and forth and it was all very knee slapping.

Patrick realised I was not Jeffrey, and then we had a general chat. He told me he was an Italian living in Ireland.  Excuse me as you peak my interest.  Right?

He sent me a photograph.  Totally unsolicited photograph.

Of himself – a selfie – but he was wearing a wife beater vest and shorts.  He was kneeling on his bed, and the reflection in the mirror showed some rather questionable flowery curtains, and a puke green sort of wall colouring.

Which was alarming as he had told me he was an interior designer …… maybe he is the blind kind.

He proceeded to send me several more pictures of himself, always in a vest, always “selfie” styled.  To be honest I had already cooled to this relationship on the first image of him in a vest.  I did not really need more to cool my ardour.

I have a rather violent aversion to vests.  And seeing men’s underarm hair whilst they are in a vest.  It is a bit sweaty and sort of stuck at strange angles to their arm pits.  Vests do nothing for me.

Actually that is a lie, it does manage to dry up my vagina almost instantaneously, and that alone is a sure sign that Patrick was not “my one.”

Once the initial few days of bantering had passed and I had used up all my comedy routine, there was really nothing to be done, but go our separate ways and try to forget ever “not meeting each other.”

Patrick would send me the odd WA message, and say things like “hi how are you doing” and then include an updated picture of himself in a vest.  I had the usual groin and groan reaction.

I replied less, because well we were done.  I had no more to get out of this relationship, nor give.

 {I want to warn you that if you sensitive to full frontal nudity, or if your name is Patrick, then I suggest you click away now}

I am sitting there quite innocently — minding my own business.  A lot of my work interactions are done on WA and the result is that messages pop up all day and I generally have my phone nearby during work hours.

There are a few things that I believe could have happened here:

1.  Patrick took a hit of pure heroine and thought this was a good idea.

2.  Patrick’s mother taught him that his body was beautiful and he should share it with anyone he barely knows.

3.  He had a new duvet cover he wanted to show me and this was the most interesting way he could work out to do that.

4.  This approach has worked for him in the past, and suddenly the entire conversation with Jeffrey is viewed in another light.

5.  Patrick knew it was my birthday coming up, and this is the only gift he could think that would keep on giving.

6.  I have nothing.

>>>>>>>>>>>  I am warning you that you are about to see an image that you will forever have burnt onto your retina ………….



>>>>>>>>>>> You have had umpteenth warnings to click away, but you have chosen to follow this path …….  no crying about this later, no hair pulling and weeping ………… if you are going to act like a grown up then you need to also take responsibility for your decisions ……….

>>>>>>>>>>  no more warnings

>>>>>>>>>>  this shit just got real ………..


Did you notice the floral curtains!!! ?  Yes, I know very distracting.

I did blur out his face, I really gave that several hours of thought.  As far as I know, and can testify the remainder of this image contains no photoshop.

I replied with a rather curt response along the lines of WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SENDING ME NAKED PICTURES OF YOURSELF — PUT ON YOUR VEST YOU SICK FUCK!

Or some thing of that ilk.

I realised from this image that Patrick really was proud of his physic and wanted to show everyone.  Now I don’t know everyone, but I have shown this around at my local pub.  Not always to applause.

Considering how infatuated most men are by their penises, they do have a rather STRONG reaction when they see pictures of other men with their penises out.

Men are a strange bunch.

Crazy white men especially, but we have discussed this earlier.

I have this friend Francois who is so damn funny – so I sent this picture to him.  Francois being polite, commented on that even though he was struggling to keep his lunch down, he wanted to draw my attention to the dimensions of not-Patrick’s-curtains.

I commented that now that he mentioned it, there was a certain ……. impressiveness there, once I got over the shock of the floral curtains.

Francois, without missing a beat goes “soft mattress” which made me splutter with laughter.  That is why I will always adore Francois and continue to stalk him a non threatening manner.

Some key points:

1.  You knew there was going to be explicit nudity and continued to read this post, so for your burning  and bleeding corneas I have no sympathy from me.

2.  I don’t have Patrick’s number any more, so please do not contact me looking for it.

3.  If you are this Patrick, then cool – you have a little bit of fame over here in South Africa, yay for you.

4.  Am I the only one who is deeply disturbed by those curtains?

5.  I show this to a friend, and the first thing she does is comment how atrocious that bedside lamp is ……. same girl who as we watched 50 Shades of Grey kept swooning at the decor.  Love her!!