Women want sex… with me? Bad idea

I’m in a conversation with women (shock horror) and they want to have ‘nookie‘ and ‘make whoopie‘ with me. Maybe it’s because I don’t like Mondays. Tell me why.

Woman: Hey, Poison. Fancy some? I’m feeling ready and I want some sex.

PoisonEQ: If you must I’ll buy you one for christmas.

Woman: You don’t understand. I want sexual intercourse.

PoisonEQ: So it’s a meal?

Woman: No. I want sexual intercourse with you.

PoisonEQ: OK. Tell me the name of the restaurant that serves it and I’ll book us a table at the nearest convenience.

Woman: I want to make love.

PoisonEQ: Is it some kind of arts and crafts thing?

Conversation #2

Woman: Oh. You have a small dick.

PoisonEQ: So? Does it matter?

Woman: You can’t pleasure women.

PoisonEQ: I couldn’t give a f–k about women’s pleasure.

Woman: You can’t give me an orgasm.

PoisonEQ: I had one.

Woman: I didn’t.

PoisonEQ: I don’t give a sh-t. I still had fun and cum. That’s all that matters. I’m about looking after number one. That’s me.

Conversation #3

Woman: You need to get laid.

PoisonEQ: Why?

Woman: Then you wouldn’t be a misogynist.

PoisonEQ: Does your vagina contain magic pixie dust that cures all ills? What about rapists? When they penetrate a woman are they cured of their misogyny?

Random Nastiness

If having a small penis means I don’t get to pleasure women. I consider that a blessing rather than a curse. I don’t give a f–k about women’s pleasure. That’s for simps.

Trust me, ladies. You’re doing me a favour by not dating, sleeping or marrying me. I couldn’t care less about women or their endless whiny needs and desires.

If incel means involuntary celibate then I’m now a Decel. I’m deliberately celibate because I couldn’t care less about what women say, think, feel or do. Life is brutal as it is without extra burden of women’s B.S being put on my shoulders.

I don’t hate women. I just don’t care about them enough to have any opinion on them besides ‘meh.

The most amusing thing about having a small penis is when everybody tries to shame and guilt-trip me about lacking the necessary girth and size to pleasure women in bed even though I couldn’t give a toss about women or their feelings. It’s like trying to shame a lion into eating vegetables in order to protect a gazelle’s feelings from getting hurt.