It was labeled "Fun 3" which really makes me wonder about "Fun 1, 2 and 6." Except, well, not really.

It should come as no surprise that I've dated some weirdos. There was the guy who wrote me obsessive amounts of poetry, the guy who gave me his 2-foot long ponytail after he cut it off (and then demanded it back when I broke up with him), the gay guy, the gayer guy, the gayest guy, and the guy with the teenie-tiny, itsy-bitsy little penis who couldn't for the life of him figure out why I wasn't interested.

That being said, I've also dated some normal people. You know, guys who tuck in their button-down shirts or whatever, and yes, that is my definition of normal because when you've dated all the freaks in the world, your barometer for what's "acceptable behavior" tends to be lowered. At this point, pretty much any dude who has at least three shirts from Banana Republic falls into my "normal" category. 

Anyway, a few months ago, when one of my "normal" exes responded to a text message I sent about his football team with a mention of a "naughty dream" he'd had about me a few nights before, I just laughed it off. After all, he was one of the few normal ones. He had at least 15 shirts from Banana Republic and a dozen or more from Brooks Brothers. He must be joking, I thought. Testing the waters to see what happens if he starts flirting... Gauging interest in whether or not I'm at all still interested... Nothing that he'd keep doing.

But then... This:

"You were pretty amazing and loving it! Very graphic. You were strapped down on my bed..." (um, I cannot continue writing what he put in his text because I am actually BLUSHING as I type this. Me. Blushing. I know. This is what happens when 50% of your office reads your blog. You start censoring.)

I didn't respond to this one as I didn't want to encourage him, after all, we stopped dating over FIVE years ago and though I love him to death, I didn't think that starting some bizarre series of dirty text messages was in the best interest of our friendship.

But then... This:

"Let's just say that I was so turned on that I took some pics and video. Maybe I'll share later."

At this point, I was pretty confused. Pics and video? I honestly wasn't sure what he was talking about, assumed that in the dream he was filming, but decided I did not need the details. So I said nothing.

Nine hours later: "No response?"

Me: "Not quite sure what to say. :)"

That text was supposed to translate into, "You're kind of freaking me out" with the smiley face showcasing a tight-lipped, questioning smile, but instead it must have translated into, "Oh baby, give me more. You're so hot. Just like that," with the smiley face showcasing some grossly-exaggerated Penthouse orgasm because he followed up with:

"Yeah. You would have loved it. You want pics?"

To which I just didn't respond because honestly, what on earth was he talking about and what had happened to my nice NORMAL ex-boyfriend who wears khakis and blue button-downs and owns several suits?

A few days later, I got a text notifying me that he'd sent me a "multimedia message" that I could view in the next 5 days. Anyone has an iPhone knows that when someone sends you picture mail, you have to go to a stupid website that never actually works and type in a message ID and password in order to see what the person sent you.

This ex-boyfriend tends to be very sweet and sends me things like pictures of lambs frolicking on farms (lambies are my favorite!), so I didn't think twice about it, and a few days later at work, was like, "Oh, I should look at the picture that my super normal ex-boyfriend texted me!"

So I went to the website, typed in the ID and password, and suddenly on my huge over-sized monitor on my work computer:

A hand slowly stroking an erect penis.

His hand. And his erect penis. And yes, I only determined that after I went home, poured myself a glass of wine and made myself watch the video in its entirety.

You'll be disappointed to hear: No Money Shot.

He'll be disappointed to hear: he has no career as a cinematographer, though in this economic times, I would encourage him to consider an acting gig in the adult film industry. After all, people cut back on lunches and they may stop getting manicures, but no one stops buying porn.