Hey there, fellow commuter. Pretty crowded on this train, huh?
I know what you’re probably thinking: I should close my legs. It’s rush-hour and I’m manspreading as wide as I can, rendering multiple adjacent seats unusable. Well, I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m a self-involved narcissist who doesn’t care about the personal space of those around me. No! That’s not it, at all. I understand why you might think that, especially when this subway car is filled with people who look like they could use a seat more than me, a spry male in my 30s. But the truth is — and I’m speaking on behalf of myself and all other manspreaders — we’re manspreading because we have massively wide chodes.
Let me explain. My dick measures one inch long and six inches wide. Flaccid. When erect, it gets wider, but not longer. Kind of like an accordion, and just as irritating. When you see me or any other man stretching out as if the subway is our own personal living room, know that it’s due to our penises being oriented horizontally and shaped like harmonicas.
I know this might be hard to believe because of my confident, “I don’t care about anyone but myself” demeanor. But that’s an act. I’m actually really sensitive. Or at least as sensitive as any dude with a wide, short dick would be.
And I get that when you see us men not making space for pregnant women or elderly people, you’re probably assuming “huge asshole.” But no, that’s actually a total normal size. And we wish we could help out. It’s just the dick thing.
Believe it or not, our chodes are also the reason some of us men can’t be bothered to share the sidewalk. It’s difficult to side-step when we’re dealing with a ruler-type-object wedged perpendicular to our legs. If me or any of the other men with misoriented peckers body-checks you, it’s not because we move through the world under the assumption that people should move out of our way. It’s because our wide, protractor penises need so much extra space.
Having a chode is also why we have trouble listening and maintaining a respectful conversation. You try focusing when you’re dealing with the most uncomfortable, unusable sling imaginable. If we had vertically oriented willies, I promise we’d be the type of guys who could pay attention and appreciate your experience and expertise. But our thinking is sideways, just like our dingalings.
Listen, I see you shifting your weight and adjusting your bag. I know you’re hoping to sit in one of the seats over which I’ve draped my legs. But do you see me? Do you see my plight and my sidelong-sausage-wiener?
Before I leave, please don’t forget what I’ve told you here today. Next time you find yourself on the bus or subway and are confronted with a manspreader, or somebody who walks right into you or mansplains, remember that it’s because anyone doing these behaviors suffers from having an unbelievably wide chode. The only logical alternative is that we’re all raging egomaniacs. So it must be our medically improbable dicklets.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my car that I parked on the line, taking up two spaces, which, again, I had to do because of my chode.
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Emily Kling is a writer based in New Haven, CT, where she is currently pursuing her MBA degree from the Yale School of Management. Her work has appeared in The Weekly Humorist, Points in Case, Little Old Lady Comedy, and The Belladonna. While Emily is often late, she is rarely fashionable. Find her on Twitter @EmilyKling2 or at www.emilyannekling.com.