You look like the kind of guy who fucks. Hard. Who gets to go home every night and fuck the absolute shit out of his gf and coats her in hot nut before throwing a rag at her. Who absolutely destroys her, making her beg for mercy as you pound her into a broken bedframe. Is it true? Can you fuck? Your throat goes dry and your pits get wet. Your mind goes blank, blacking out every time you are faced with the question: How is sex with your girlfriend?

It’s not that you don’t enjoy sex. You wish you could love it. You wish that every you’ve tried wasn’t a mind-numbingly humiliating experience, recovery seen only after subsequent days—no, weeks—of disassociation. So what the hell is the problem? Just stick it in, right? Wrong. Bold to assume there’s even anything to stick inside. Bold to assume there’s anything to work with that isn’t the size of a single grain of rice, a short-grained wriggling maggot with no purpose other than scaring and disgusting the people you just want to be intimate with. The thought of whipping your sad nub out makes you want to throw up—even you disgust yourself.

You are utterly lacking. On the outside, you look like a catch, but you’re not. Your hyper-fixation on your micro penis has atrophied the rest of your personality, so now you’re boring and tiny. They say to pick a struggle so you chose all of them. Nobody laughs at your jokes because they’re all so self-deprecating and depressing. You laugh to yourself and your friends whisper asking if that guy is okay. You’re fine, you shout while holding back tears, and once again your pits are a river while your dick is still microscopic.

It’s ruining your life. Relationships never last. Your current girlfriend is only with you because she’s poly and has eight other boyfriends to service her perfect pussy, which is just a nice way of saying she’s too busy getting plowed by other men to have discovered you’re missing your entire man part. It’s not fair and yet it’s the perfect arrangement for you, until she inevitably finds out you’re just a walking embarrassment. You’ll do her a favor and remove yourself from the equation before dropping your pants for her and watching her face turn from desire to disappointment. You already feel her distancing herself from you, spending entire weeks at a time vacationing all over the world with her other boyfriends. Boyfriends that pound her into the walls, no mercy, with their offensively massive boners. This is what you spend your free time thinking about.

The solution? You shut yourself away from society. A self-shun. Why should anybody have to put up with you and your missing package? You’re doing a disservice, expecting somebody to be with you only to pretend not to be embarrassed by you. Not only would your existence be fraudulent, you’d be incriminating them as well, sentencing them to a lifetime of pretending they don’t wish you could just rail the shit out of them. At best, they’d wake up every day thinking, great, another day with the man with stale crumbs for a penis. At worst, they won’t even think about you at all, because you’re just the type of guy to be overlooked and discarded. Abandoned, forgotten, replaced—all because you have a grain of rice for a penis.