I’ve had a big dick for most of my life. Then again, I also grew up with disproportionately large hands, and so I didn’t realize that there was anything remarkable about my penis until the age of fifteen when I began periodically whipping it out at parties. This drunken act of attention-seeking was probably just my way of getting the urge out of my system at the time (I suspect that most men who run around flashing teenage girls are simply frustrated at the fact that they didn’t get to do it when it was socially acceptable), but before I knew it, people were congratulating me on my considerable endowment—most of the time it was my male peers, who would walk up and slap me on the back before saying something like, “Dude, your dick is huge!”
My phase of youthful exhibitionism culminated during a booze-fueled get-together in a crowded public park, wherein I assailed a statue commemorating my homeland’s war heroes, unbuttoned my Levi’s, and after calling out to a group of fellow teenagers whom I did not yet know, I unleashed the beast and waved it at them like a fleshy white flag. They burst out laughing, and we became fast friends. Socializing was easier back then.
Cut to the present day and my life is a fucking mess, a state of affairs I attribute solely to what the aforementioned partygoers jokingly referred to as “a sea monster attached to a teenage boy.” Of course, it’s no longer attached to a teenage boy (insert your own ephebophilia joke here) but a grizzled, weatherbeaten man, a man with few job prospects and even fewer things to look forward to in life. So where did I go wrong? How exactly did being well-hung leave me in a state of affairs so dismal that if I only knew how to tie a slipknot, I’d wrangle my cock into a noose and hang myself with it? I’ll tell you how, but be prepared to have your preconceptions shattered and your mind blown—being blown a pursuit I am unable to partake in as my stupidly huge appendage doesn’t fit in any normal human mouths.
Guys that are packin’ are guys that are lackin’, just in every other department besides the one that supposedly counts the most. We coast on our manhoods like enormous phallic watercraft, and as our voyages through life are governed by the winds of societies inflated view of our worth as people, we have little to warn us of the impending rocks of reality upon which we inevitably crash. When you have a big dick, you’re treated like a black man regardless of your race, and we all know how shitty that can be. You’re expected to be a sexual superman, a ferocious warrior, a talented athlete, and a leader of men, despite the fact that those few superfluous inches you’ve been dealt only lend themselves to one of those areas, and even then there’s no guarantee that you can fuck well.
In fact, it limits your versatility in the bedroom. If she doesn’t like being split open, she’s shit out of luck, and before you say “use your fingers,” no. Screw you. I’m trying to have a mutually enjoyable experience here, not manipulate a woman like a living, breathing sock puppet because she’s too scared that my grotesquely oversized genitalia might end up bruising her womb. Maybe there’s a size queen out there who would be a perfect fit for me, but Lord knows that I haven’t met her yet.
On top of this, having a “third leg” invites a dangerous amount of violent jealousy into your life should you opt to wear tight pants or use communal showers—as is any man’s right to do, regardless of what nature gave him. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve narrowly avoided being shanked at the public pool because some pimple-dicked nobody decided he couldn’t accept his loss in the genetic lottery and so felt like cutting me down to size. You wouldn’t believe how many nudist beaches I’ve been chased out of or how many leotard stores have shown me the door because my custom fitting resulted in a tearing of their wares.
Big Dick Discrimination will never end until we, the last unsung minority of the world, come together in solidarity, take our swords in hand, and rise up to have our voices heard. They’ll want to destroy us, their eyes will burn green with envy, and they’ll threaten us with mass castration, but ultimately we’ll come out on top, because we’re more focused, more driven, and more dedicated than the average-to-small-dicked majority. We’re in it for the long run, even if we risk tripping over ourselves in the process.