Sorry Babe, I’m Hella Busy With C-Sections

tumblr_mg2cy0fp0U1rabxmlo1_500A few years ago I received a text that said, “in callbacks, so hot for u.” It was from a commercial director I was dating who turned out to be way more into sex than anyone I’ve known. He was actually the first guy I ever exchanged sexy text messages with. He was a pro at describing his sexual fantasies and I was extremely uncomfortable. I pictured him sitting on a couch at a casting studio, pretending to pay attention to someone auditioning for an Xbox commercial, while slyly texting me, “so hard for u right now.”

From that day on, every time I’m at an audition now and the director is on his phone, I assume he’s sexting. Or at least looking at a picture of some girl who spent 20 minutes taking the perfect nude selfie. I’ve always said that if a nude photo of me gets leaked I wouldn’t mind because I know I spent way too much time perfecting the light to compliment my body.

There’s something provocative about receiving and sending sexts while going about your professional life. If I’m working and a dude (someone I’m dating, not just a random person) texts me that he can’t wait to get naked with me later, it makes me feel attractive and wanted; who doesn’t love attention?!? The problem with sexting is when it becomes too much.

A 47-year-old doctor from Seattle was fired from his job for sending inappropriate photos and sexts during surgery. He once sent 45 texts to a girl during stomach surgery. I’m all about watching those emergency room surgery shows, but there’s nothing about cutting someone’s body open that turns me on. Apparently he was sending photos of his junk hanging out of his OR scrubs to women.

He once sent 45 texts to a girl during stomach surgery.

I can only imagine the text accompanying that image: “u like that babe? brb, bout to dive into some intestines”

He is also accused of issuing 29 unauthorized prescriptions, having sexual rendezvous at work, and looking at private records of images for his own sexual gratification, whatever that means. He also invited a patient to the hospital to have sex, insisting she park in the doctor’s lot to avoid paying for parking. I mean, at least he was a gentleman about it, right? He was suspended from the hospital indefinitely.

The sexting commercial director I dated had this magical power to turn every single text conversation into a deleted scene from Last Tango in Paris. During one conversation I told him about the apartment in Fort Greene I was subletting, and he responded with “u getting freaky with any hot nyc guys?” Like how am I supposed to answer that? “Yeah, totes, so many dicks have been in my mouth.” I’d usually just stop responding once he started with the sex talk.

Another time we were talking and he told me his sister and nephew had left his house but he still had baby toys in his living room. I said, “oh that’s cute.” And he said, “wanna come over and f**k on baby toys?” From baby toys to sex– a veritable Mike Kelley this dude.

A producer of a TV show would also send me explicit texts while he was working. He ended up being married so his grossness automatically increased 10 times. He sent things like, “thinking about filling you up from behind.” Filling? Come on. What am I, a donut? Just tell me you want to put your married dick in me and get on with your day. He would also send me photos of himself shirtless. Like, what am I supposed to do with that? It’s not like I’m going to reply back with, “your non-tanned middle-aged chubby stomach is making me so wet babe.”

Dudes: you can sext me as much as you want, whenever you want. However, when I say, “I wish my mouth were on your cock,” it most likely means I’m wishing I had some Pinkberry and 3 episodes of Project Runway on my DVR.



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