It never fails that, if a topic can be made sexual, it will be by horny guys who’s only mission in life seems to be the biggest perverts possible; essentially, a sexualized version of Murphy’s Law. I could be talking about U.S.-North Korea nuclear arms and they’d make the pun, “I’d like to launch my rocket and go nuclear in your ass.” The puns are literally that stupid.
Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not horny 24/7. Sometimes I just want to talk about, I don’t know, something other than my dick. My dick encompasses 512 cubic inches of my body, whereas the average human brain is 1500 cubic inches—one of these things is greater than the other. I appreciate your adulation of my dick, but the more you talk about it, the less of a novelty it becomes. And, look, I get it: I’m open about my sexuality. I sort of invite sexual advances in a sense, and I generally don’t mind, but when it’s the lead to every. single. conversation. it becomes annoying. It’s tedious to the point that, even if there were a chance I wanted to fuck you before, it’s not going to happen in the future.
I realize it sounds like I’m pulling a Gretchen Wieners (“I can’t help it that I’m popular”), but honestly, in the same way women don’t find straight guys’ incessant, crude comments cute, neither do I.