Yeah yeah, I know, pretty stupid. Basically, I’m somewhat well endowed in the girth department shall we say, and attempting to get one on is similar to how I imagine it would be trying to put a wedding ring on a marrow. And yes, I’ve tried the large ones. They’re hardly any better.
And on the odd occasion that I have managed (at great pain) to force one on, having the extra layer of rubber over what is already a pretty desensitised area due to circumcision, means that I might as well just go and bash it against the wall for ten minutes to receive a similar amount of pleasure.
My notch count? No idea. Somewhere around 50 if I had to try and guess. I go through bouts where I will add 10 in the space of a few months, and then only 1 for the next half a year.
However, this flagrant disregard for precautionary intercourse has led me to two conclusions:
- having never picked up anything more serious than a mild case of thrush, the level of risk of getting an STI is massively over-exaggerated. Either that, or I’m statistically the luckiest man alive – in which case, where is my lottery win dammit.
- having as yet (knowingly) sired no love children, the amount of supposedly crazy women who can’t wait to get ensemeninated by some hot stud is also greatly over-exaggerated. Admittedly, I’ve not slept with many women in their 30s or over, but all of the girls I know in their 20s are typical of the kind of girl talked about on the manosphere – career orientated, like to sleep around, and with no wish to get tied down with kids of their own
So there you go. I’m not especially proud of myself for embarking on this course of action, nor would I recommend it to anyone else, but personally, I’m going to continue not wrapping it up with gleeful abandon. And then when I simultaneously contract HIV and get 7 consecutive court summons for child maintenance payments, you can all say “Told you so”.