TMI Thursday: *chuckle chuckle chuckle RUN*

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Mom: You don't want to read this one, trust me.

It's Thursday again. And that means I have to wrack my brain trying to think of a story for you guys that you'd probably rather me not share. But I will anyway. And this week I think I will tell the tale of a boy named Paul, and this one time when I almost had a one night stand with him.

I was in University, and as a 19 year-old girl in University often does, I went through a period when I was an absolute trollup. I was screwing everything. The phase didn't last, I assure you, but this particular evening took place during said slutty period. I was dating this guy named Symon who was a total cokehead loser who ended up hitting me later on down the road (so that excuses the fact that in this story I totally cheat on him with his cute artist friend, Paul). Anyway, I hadn't heard from Symon in a couple of days and I was super pissed off because he cheated on me the last time I couldn't find the fucker. Sidenote: this was a very unhealthy and tumultuous 6 month affair. So I called Symon's only friend in the world, Paul. Symon was homeless and when he got caught living in the University Student Centre he often crashed at Paul's place. (I know what you're thinking - and yes, I do have excellent taste in men). Paul was a good artist, and I am and was also an artist, so he invited me over to check out some of his work. Paul was also very very handsome. And he was into psychadelics, which I hadn't yet tried, so he was automatically super cool and with it. I go to Paul's and he has The Monster Squad! That awesome movie about the kids who foil Dracula's plan to steal the amulet and take over the world? And the adorable little girl and Frankenstein become, like, best friends? Yeah! I hadn't seen it in like 15 years so when I saw it on his coffee table I was all like PUT THIS ON NOW! And we watched it on a sleeping bag in his student house attic. Classy.

One thing led to another, as it often did when I was a promiscuous little whore and the next thing I knew we were making out like crazy. Paul was a terrible kisser but he was such an interesting person and he was so fucking gorgeous that I had to forgive him and just hope that he would learn to follow my lead. He didn't, but whatever. Anyway, yadda yadda yadda, he may have gone down on me or something, I don't know, and so I reach for the button on his jeans.

Now, all women know that this really is the moment of truth. I have certainly never heard the words "size doesn't matter" come out of anyone's mouth who wasn't a) a man, b) a man with a tiny pecker or c) a liar woman in love with a man with a tiny pecker. For the most part, we know better. It matters. So when you're about to check out the penis for the first time with someone new, you're hopeful that it's going to be decent. Am I right? I think I'm right... anyway to me it's kind of like unwrapping a Christmas gift. It's either going to be a pair of socks or a nice big penis. I mean, an X-box. Whatever.

Paul's little pee-pee was so tiny, so utterly tiny, that I had to stop. I had to. I recoiled against my will, as if his penis physically repelled me with its anti-sexy and I turned super red and wore this stupid looking grin. A grin that says "I'm sorry..." like the grin you might accidentally wear when you accidentally feed a vegetarian a real burger instead of the veggie...
I could make out with him all night, even though he couldn't kiss worth a damn. Could I even stomach the idea of giving this guy a handjob? No. I couldn't. His penis was probably as thick as a roll of dimes and it was shorter than my index finger. I remember my fist being of more length. It wasn't even funny small, it was just really, really sad.
The next few moments are a blur, but I remember getting up quickly, making up some stupid excuse to leave and running out of his house, and avoiding him at all costs for as long as I went to that school, which thankfully, wasn't super long.

I want more TMI penis stories. Just puttin' that out there.