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It happens to the best of us. It doesn’t happen often–or maybe just not nearly as often as it happens to our male counterparts–but it happens. Work happens. Grad school happens. Your kid sister visiting from out of town happens. That asshole of a FWB of yours, Jason, has been texting that whore of an ex-girlfriend of his and LOL no. Just no. Regardless, sometimes you just hit a not-so-dry streak, and thanks to your cubemate Mary’s cousin Alex or Tinder Mike, your slump might be coming to an end. But, Lord knows you’re probably in your own head way before you’re on top of his.
Am I bloated?
Remember when we could eat whatever we wanted and never saw an ounce of it? Ah, memories. Being a grownup means having to prioritize your life, and sometimes that means you have to choose the way you’re going to intake your protein for the day. Is it going to be in the form of a McChicken (add bacon, please) from McDonald’s or is it going to be in the form of a protein shake straight from Peenland? Did I eat salt today? Has that Diet Coke fully digested, or am I still as bloated as a beached whale? More importantly, does it look like I have a whale’s vagina? I’ll have a Caesar salad and a water with lemon, k thx.
What if my vag has returned to its formerly virginal state?
This shit happens, and OH MY GOD, the agony. As the old saying goes, “if you don’t use it, you lose it.” You have to find that happy medium between using it too much and not using it enough, between slip ’n’ slide and prepubescence. Men think this is great, awesome, fucking prime time. Women wish they never had to pee again. Stretching, ripping, tearing…ugh. Tears. Just tears. Even the thought of anything remotely touching the general area after someone’s hotdog goes down your virgin hole makes shit burn. You’re killin’ me, Smalls (and that’s where that joke ends).
How big were his hands and feet again?
While this method is not the be all, end all of whether or not his other appendage is just as proportionate, it’s all we’ve got to go on. What was it like? Can I even remember? I really hope he’s got really manly hands. And nice feet. Feet are gross, but as long as they look nice, I guess they’re okay. Remember that guy you almost dated who had really feminine hands? You sure did dodge that bullet! Wait, what were we even talking about? Oh yeah, peen size. Like the wise words of Eminem, “feet don’t fail me now.”
Did I take my birth control today?
The answer here is probably not. You also probably didn’t yesterday or the day before that, so you’re just a lost cause at this point. With great power comes great responsibility. Unfortunately, we’re still deciding whether we want to use our powers for good or for evil, and the responsibility portion is still flying right under our radars. Hope he brings a condom. Or, at the very least, he pulls out and prays.
This is in response to 4 Things That Go Through A Guy’s Mind Before Breaking An Abnormally Long Dry Streak.