At 51, Poppy King received her first d**k pic.

What is the etiquette around d**k pics? No pun intended here, but I was stumped.

In this case impressively, but I wasn't expecting that on a quiet Sunday afternoon in my apartment in New York.

Out of nowhere, with a great big bang (no whimpers here) came this pic.

I am Generation X. We grew up without digital mating calls, so this was my first time – as a 51-year-old woman who doesn't do online dating or any kind of apps – receiving a d-pic.

While you are here, watch this video about love. Story continues below.

The first thing I assumed was that it must be a mistake, because I knew the other end of this guy and he was too good-looking to do something like this.

"A hustler," was my immediate reaction (I watched a lot of Dr Phil during lockdowns), and was about to angrily text back when an even more heart-wrenching thought came to mind: what if it was just misguided, lost in generational translation, and for him this is a normal Sunday?

Well, nothing turns studs on like a teachable moment. Not. 

"That will pay him back", I thought, flicking the switch to Nancy Drew. This guy was not getting out of this now without questions. It's what has kept me single – 'childlike', I have been told when said endearingly; annoying when not.

"I assume this is a mistake," I wrote back, figuring that would give him some dignity in case it was.

His answer neither confirmed nor denied, just danced around gauging my reaction.

Next, I wanted to ask him if he had just hit 'P' in his contact list and was playing some form of d-pic roulette with the alphabet. But that might scare him off too quickly and I wanted more understanding of exactly what this guy thinks (or thought) should (or would) happen with a picture like that, without any narrative foreplay whatsoever.

"Got to be a hustler," I decided, so gently asked if he was looking for paid services (either way, not my bag!).

It took him a minute, but he did seem genuinely taken aback once he realised the inference.

"No nothing like that – just want to see you."

I was dying to ask a big "why?", after four years of polite flirting, very much from a distance, with me being more Auntie Mame than Mrs Robinson to this handsome young man.

It had been four years since we had settled on one of those polite mild interactions you have with someone in your neighbourhood. The standard variety, where you nod and exchange pleasantries. He has an amazing dog, so we would talk about said dog, the garden I belong to and so on.

This picture, however, was a stark change in tone.

It could be I am a patsy, or could be seen as one by the law(s) of odds. Someone might be reading this, scoffing, "That's the oldest trick in the new book of hook-ups, and you fell for it! It's called Kamikaze D-Picing and there is a contestant-based show on Bravo about it."

The weird thing is, a few days later and I still feel disturbed. Not for my personal safety – I used the ol' Operation Exasperate With Questions Until They Can Stand It No Longer (a video was even suggested at one point so I shut it all down).

"Not going to happen with a younger man," I said. He can't change his age so how can you argue with that? 

"I have done it before – it won't ever happen again," I qualified.

He knew then that flattery was useless in the face of an experienced and exhausted Lothario (of all ages) finder, so he gave up.

I recalled, at this moment, a conversation I'd once had with another guy: We were having an absurd back and forth about why it was less shady when he did it than me doing the same thing, because he was male. He used the S-ending-in-T word and when I wouldn't accept that word unless he saw himself the same way, he eventually ratcheted down the rhetoric to, "Okay you're a Lothario then."

"All I want is the right to be as vain as men," I replied. I am sure he reverted to my having penis envy, which I have been told, but as I always point out – yes, each time – "Why would I envy something that can be the undoing of so many?"

Now I have, almost a quarter of the way in, joined the 21st-Century female experience and lost my d**k pic cherry. 

It's gone forever.

Having never one seen before, I was hoping not to. Now those hopes are dashed.

I hope that in writing this I don't set off some kind of avalanche of revenge d-pics – I get enough of that, metaphorically speaking, being a woman in business.

What a strange world we have here between men and women – or it feels that way to me. It used to be men were from Mars and Women were from Venus when I was debutante-ing back in the '80s – now it just seems we are all from Pluto.

Let's at least get out of Uranus, fellas.

Feature Image: Instagram.