Let’s talk about the obvious. Let’s just put it out there and get it out in the open. There is someone else at the table with us. The big, fat, pink elephant in the room. I just wanted you to know that I am more than aware that you have a penis. There, it’s been said and the world did not come to a screeching halt. Other patrons did not cease their conversation and in absolute silence, stare at us. And No, just because I have acknowledged it, doesn’t mean I want you to send me pictures of said penis or whip it out immediately to show me. I trust you and fully believe that there is a penis in your pants, less than a foot away from me.
I know that as you sit there, you are pretending that your penis is not guiding every single move you make and every single utterance you make and I can’t take the awkwardness of having a third member present and unaccounted for, anymore. I know you choose where you sat tonight was based on your penis; just like I am aware that your choice of daytime activities and night time events, are also governed by said penis. Considering the delightful piece of steel you arrived in and I saw you park, my guess is that your penis may have been a major decision maker in the vehicle selection.
I am happy to talk about your penis, but I don’t want you to beat me over the head with it, neither physically or metaphorically, at least not until we establish those sexual parameters in our dating relationship. I’m kidding, so advise your penis to stand down and back away from the engorgement. No one needs to get hurt; it’s all fun and games until someone gets something in their eye and goes blind. And let your penis know that talking about it, is not a prelude to ‘aural’ sex. Please keep it firmly ensconced in the safety of your pants, at least for the duration of the conversation and quite probably the entire meal. I will not forget it’s there, even if I can’t see it. It casts a long shadow.
When we talk on the phone after our date, what you do with your penis is of no concern to me, unless I can hear the telltale sounds of your penis distracting you and your conversation becomes disjointed as you talk more to it, using your own unique sign language, than to me. If by some crazy, whimsical lapse on my part, spurred by wine or unforgiving curiosity, I invite you to come up for a drink, I promise that your penis will remain firmly in pants. Or rather, it will remain restrained. Wait, I meant secured … never mind. Maybe we should snatchchat first….SNAP chat! I meant SNAP chat…omg.
I promise, with all that I am, and all who I hope to be, that under no circumstances will I forget that you do have a penis. Furthermore, as a sign of goodwill, I also vow to not hold your penis against you, though I do reserve the right to hold it against me. Just not at dinner or during desert. Or in the parking lot on the way to the cars. Maybe, if things go well tonight, we can start with some non-penis activity in a few days, without a slab of wood between us and public supervision. I will not discount a move into some pre-penis activity, once I am sure you can carry on a conversation with both of us at the same time and ignore him long enough to listen to me.
It’s evident you are actually looking for a threesome with him and I and I truly appreciate your presence/tumescence tonight while a difficult hostage situation was occurring concurrently under the table. Your delightful conversation, which was designed to get and keep me distracted, to forget you had a penis, was almost able to accomplish the mission by overlooking the fact it’s been trying to bring you to your cerebral knees, in it’s efforts to secure its personal freedom tonight. I realize that looking him in the eye directly to relay my message might have been dangerous, if not a hazard to my vision, so I thank you for interpreting for us, while I explained my position, or lack of intended ones, and acknowledged the presence of your penis.