Editorial Disclaimer This article is full of unsavoury vocabulary and tacky subjects. Not recommended for the faint of heart or the ultra-conservatives. If you are under 18, you probably shouldn't be reading this. Nonetheless, The Vice Magazine pulls similar stunt all the time, so why not publish material like this too. Send you bag of complaints and threats to the whore here.
You might think that you've experienced utter disappointment. You might think failing that class you really needed and thus not making honours was the end of the world. Or that getting dumped by "Mr/Ms Right" was like the worst thing ever! But I bet it's f*#@& not.
Until you've been hornier than a stray city bitch in mid spring, barely able to wait until the cab stops before you get the bastard's pants off, and wound up head to head with a cock even a castrato would point and laugh at, you have not experienced disappointment.
Any girl who has ever said 'size doesn't matter' to you obviously never dated the actor from Toronto that I did. Size does matter, and you better believe it. I don't care if you like to screw on the top or bottom, if your love-stick pops out because it's smaller than my pinkie finger, you're in deep shit, buddy. And no amount of pre or post-coital oral is going to make up for it. And don't give me that I'll-make-you-come-before-we-fuck shit, either. I hate that. If I come before you start fucking me, it's a bonus for me because you've been bad. Bad, because you don't know when to stop and are just going to have to work that much harder when we're actually doing it to learn your lesson. No excuses. Shut up and get to work.
I once asked my friend Carrie if she thought it was ethical for me to fuck this dancing asshole while I was still screwing my ex, (I didn't know the guy had a negative-sized dick at the time.) Her response was as follows:
"[Yes.] So, I think he can take one for the team… then bow down and ask for forgiveness." This is coming from the same girl who spat a guy's cum in his face because he didn't give her a warning. I love this girl.
What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, little dicks.
Okay, so I read the beer goggles article and it's totally true. It's also reversible, and equally as true in that respect as well. No one wants to go home with a McNasty. I encourage every woman picking up to follow the same advice. (Girls do that, you know. They go out and pick up.) But, there's a slight disadvantage. I think because there's no quick and incognito way to measure up a guy's manhood, the way they measure up our layableness, they should be required to provide that information openly for criticism. I suggest they do this by wearing the number(s), as expressed in centimetres, displayed on a tag and worn around their necks. This way, when a woman stares at a man's chest when she speaks to him, he will know that he is being judged. It will save us the hassle of faking an orgasm (Who does that, anyway?) and will save him some cab money (1). No one has to get fucked, and no one has to get hurt.
I can't imagine any way to express to a man how utterly heartbroken I am with his teeny peeny. Not only will he be so selfishly hurt and offended that he doesn't even want to hear about it, but he won't even be able to comprehend that kind of disappointment.
Think about it. You get all the way to your/her place, she's just as eager and ready as you are, the clothes are off, the condom is out- and then, all of a sudden, you realize it will be impossible for you to get off. No amount of fucking her will make you come. It doesn't matter if she's tight-as-a-twelve-year-old, it's not going to happen. So yeah, she'll probably blow you 'til you finish, once she gets sick of you riding her back all night. And that would be nice, but she's tired and not really into it, so even that takes a half hour.
It's a waste of time. And no one enjoys it. Well, maybe some of it, but not most of it.
(1)Tips for Chicks ~ Because, as a female, most of the clothing I wear when I go out have no pockets with which to carry money, I take only a house key and bus pass hung on a belt clip (in the colour of your choice!) around the strap of my shirt or belt-loop if I have one. Sometimes you have to get creative and make a bracelet. This also prevents you from spending a shit load of money while you're out.
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