Imagine it’s a lazy Saturday afternoon. You’ve just eaten some delicious Candelari’s pizza and are contemplating a quick nap with the dog before going to see a movie in a theater, something you haven’t done in about two years. As you walk by your cellphone, you notice you have a non-voicemail message from one of your dearest friends. You open the message, expecting to read something like “what R U doing tonite?” only maybe not so Prince-d out. The first thing you see is “Guess Who,” and you realize this is a multi-media message, complete with a picture. Exciting! What will it be a picture of?
Imagine your surprise when the picture, once downloaded, is a full frontal of your dear, good friend. Completely as God made him. You immediately feel guilty, as if you did something wrong. You quickly close your phone, certain this was some horrible mistake. You think he meant to send this photo to his boyfriend, not to you. Why would you need the visual of your good friend’s twig and berries? He must have chosen the wrong email address when preparing to send this cellular pornography. In fact, you have a slight paranoia about just this sort of thing – not that you send cellular pornography, you’re more likely to email something snarky that isn’t meant for all to see – so you’re sure it was some sort of terrible mistake. Gingerly, you open your phone again, hoping there will be clarification in the message that you somehow missed the first time around. There is no clarification, just his meat and two veg. Staring back at you.
Imagine you’re now forced to decide how best to handle this situation. Do you write back? If so, what do you say? Do you send a picture of yourself so he has to live with the mental image of your jugs just as you will have to live the mental image of his bratwurst? Do you share the picture with all of your friends and even post it on the internet? No, what you do is decide to never speak of this again. Well, actually you might mention it some night when you’re both drunk. Over a couple of gin tonics you abruptly change whatever the subject is to say, “You know, I’ve seen your nuts” and just let the conversation run its course from there. Luckily, after a couple of days of pondering this dilemma, you see your friend and he asks if you received his message. You giggle and say “yes,” then clear your throat and say “what the fuck was that about.” He tells you he was on a bender with his boyfriend that afternoon and they were one-upping each other and the contest ended when he sent the free willie shot to you. Ahhh, that explains it, and you feel much better about things knowing he’s not humiliated and you were the intended target. Except what he may not know is that you have an exceptional visual memory – like those people who have a photographic memory for text, only you have it for, uh, photos. So you think, some night you’re going to get even. Somehow.