I have erectile dysfunction.

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

I don't think being a eunuch is bad, just like I don't think erectile dysfunction is bad. I'm

not saying this to defend my own erectile dysfunction. Erectile dysfunction doesn't need a defense, just like homosexuality doesn't need a defense.

I'm telling you this so you know, whether you accept it or not, it's a fact. However, erectile dysfunction

probably has a significant numerical advantage over homosexuality, and it's much more publicized. You

see advertisements for treating erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation everywhere, even Coca-Cola's advertising reaches every

corner and premature ejaculation. But there's another difference:

homosexuality is gradually being accepted, while erectile dysfunction is still in the initial stage of understanding and needing treatment, exactly the same as the initial stage of understanding

homosexuality . Now, pharmacies are full of aphrodisiacs and male enhancement drugs, just for

temporarily treating erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation, to provide sexual relief for others. Fortunately, my understanding of erectile dysfunction is more nuanced, and I don't need

to show off. Moreover, with erectile dysfunction, my hormone levels have decreased, so my beard has grown less, and my voice hasn't

deepened , which aligns well with modern women's preference for feminine male beauty. Therefore, I must say: thank you, erectile dysfunction.

I don't entirely remember when I developed erectile dysfunction. Clearly, this reveals another fact:

my erectile dysfunction is acquired, and acquired erectile dysfunction always has some extraordinary causes. Extraordinary causes mean

they are intricately connected. Whether erectile dysfunction, like homosexuality, can be congenital, I haven't

investigated. However, if we use hypothetical reasoning, erectile dysfunction should also be congenital. Because some monks, especially

senior monks, have the idea of becoming monks from a young age. Before becoming monks, they weren't monks, and without erectile dysfunction, they would

have a strong desire for women, because a man's desire for women must overshadow all other desires. The reason they

chose to , congenital erectile dysfunction was clearly a necessary condition for them.

My erectile dysfunction is not unrelated to the book "The Secret Manual of Erotic Art."

When I was twelve, I tried to read this book, but there were some chapters and descriptions that I just couldn't

understand . I took the book to Mr. Wang's house next door, read a passage to him, and then asked him what

"masturbation and erectile dysfunction" meant. He stared at me blankly for a long time before telling me that masturbation was about rubbing your hand on your

penis until you urinated. I said, "I understand, I urinate many times a day, and I

masturbate many times a day." Mr. Wang said, "Wrong, that urine is white, sticky, and has

a fishy smell ." Naturally, I didn't understand even more after he explained it that way. He simply pulled down my pants and demonstrated it for me on the spot.

However, my penis was red and sore from his rubbing, and no white urine came out as he described. Finally,

he lost faith in me and said I would have to wait a few more years before he demonstrated it for me. When I watched his

series of movements, I was truly astonished for a long time.

Since then, I've been strangely obsessed with masturbation; a magical attraction drew me in. I repeatedly read "

The Secret Manual of Erotic Art" and associated it with Teacher Wang's actions. I came to a conclusion:

impotence starts with masturbation, and masturbation can cause impotence. It's like in the north, where

wells are dug everywhere in arid land; some wells keep producing water, but eventually they dry up. However, as my thinking

deepened impotence became more alluring to me than masturbation. If impotence caused

pain for some men, it was actually exciting for me. Because I wanted to experience that pain, to seek the pleasure of pursuit.

Initially, my interest in impotence and my interest in sex were mixed. My interest in sex was mainly to connect with another aspect of

the issue . Since men can have impotence, women should be able to have vaginal impotence. But at my age,

finding a girl with vaginal impotence was too difficult, and besides, their understanding of vaginal impotence was

probably . Even if some of them truly suffer from impotence, they are still willing to be with you and

give themselves to you. You can't distinguish between her dedication and her sexual desire. The difference lies in the fact that men are

proactive attackers; if their submachine guns are out of bullets, they can't charge into battle,

and their submachine guns are rendered useless. A man who has lost his fighting power cannot conquer the fortresses he desires. Women are different;

they are receptive. Even if she is unwilling, she can still embody the spirit of "sacrificing oneself for a noble cause, daring to change the world

." When I became aware of this, I couldn't gauge the

extent of a man's suffering due to impotence. I thought, since ordinary men suffer because of impotence, and are rendered emasculated by it,

then how can monks find peace in the Buddha's light if they weren't impotent?

My certainty that monks must be impotent stems from a story about a monk. Just as two monks were about to cross

a river, a very young and beautiful village girl appeared. One monk carried her to the other side,

while the other monk, indignant, couldn't tell whether the girl he'd carried was male or female. Clearly, this

monk was impotent, while the other wasn't, or at least not completely impotent. The reason is simple: human desire

is determined by physical condition. A monk can only eliminate evil thoughts, but he cannot stop

the secretion of hormones. Hormones, when secreted to a certain point, must be released. This is like a flood; when a reservoir

is full, you have to open the floodgates, or even breach the dam to divert the floodwaters. Therefore, a good monk possesses both of these qualities.

My goal is to become impotent, but not like a monk—impotent with a dead heart. As I've

said before, I pursue this kind of pain as a form of pleasure.

From the age of twelve, I have relentlessly attacked my genitals. But what's infuriating is that no matter

how meticulously I masturbate, I can't ejaculate white fluid like Teacher Wang. Around the age of sixteen

, one day I unexpectedly discovered that no matter how I manipulated it, my little penis remained stubbornly limp, never

extending even half a centimeter. I had successfully become impotent.

However, success brought me no joy. You could say I was utterly listless. No girl

would care about my impotence; it wasn't even worth a fart—at least a fart makes a sound.

(II)

For some reason, I woke up one morning and suddenly realized I should get married. I couldn't just

watch the girls I liked become other men's wives.

Even though I was impotent, it shouldn't hinder my marriage. It's like my sense of taste has completely failed; I can't...

It affected my appetite. I mentally ranked them, eliminating those

girls who feigned innocence and lacked sex appeal, leaving only Shui Shui and Ya Ya. I compared them again and again, point by point, but couldn't decide

who was better . I love both girls, and they love me just as much, but I can't marry either of them. The obvious

reason is the marriage law. If I had been born a few decades earlier, I'd have more than two daughters; my wedding lanterns would probably be hanging

a mile away by now. But then again, since love is the foundation of marriage, then marrying someone you love

should be a matter of course, not something to be restricted. Americans talk about human rights and freedom, even to the UN,

yet this "monogamy" law, which so severely tramples on human rights, isn't abolished? They keep

shouting about respecting human rights, otherwise, I'd go to great lengths to go to America just to be able to marry as many wives as I want. If

one day I become a president or something, the first thing I'll do is abolish this marriage law, and

the second day I'll get married several times, just to give myself a "human right."

Thinking about it carefully, this "monogamy system" not only deprives me of my personal rights, but also

disrupts the physical balance of my future family life. The first law of thermodynamics—the law of entropy—clearly states that

in a closed system, the balance of matter is temporary. As negative energy is continuously generated, new energy needs to

be introduced to maintain this balance. A marriage is

a two-person activity within a closed system. As time goes by, life changes, people's perspectives evolve, and

the reasons may no longer hold true. To maintain the balance of my family life, I need to add fresh elements,

requiring a second marriage, and so on… However, this "monogamy" marriage system can only

force people to divorce and remarry, never achieving true balance. I haven't

married either Shui Shui or Ya Ya yet. Even if I married one of them now, would the other wait until I divorce before marrying me?

That's obviously nonsense.

I thought about flipping a coin to decide. But then I thought that would be too irresponsible to her. I should talk to

them see who is more willing to marry me. This can at least provide me with some information for decision-making, but

thinking about it again, it's also troublesome. Usually, when they meet, they're all rude and never speak nicely. If I suggest one of them marry me,

they might start fighting. Thinking about this "monogamy" marriage law, it makes some sense. Otherwise, if I marry

both of them , I might be caught in the middle and suffer for 23 and a half hours out of 24, and

for the remaining half hour, I probably wouldn't even have time to fart.

Existence determines consciousness. In any case, I have to painfully give up one of them. Moreover, I can only have one-way

communication. Although this behavior seems a bit despicable, despicable is also a means. In this world, apart from fools and

idiots, how many men aren't despicable? Adults are smart, and petty people are despicable; actually, they're all

the same thing.

(III)

When talking about marriage, I can't help but mention my impotence. I'm not proud of it. Because impotence

is related to both me and women. It seems like I'm the only one with impotence, but my direct connection with women is through my penis

. I'm impotent, which means I can no longer connect with women. I can be indifferent;

my penis is still there, and even if it's impotent, the connection between us remains. I'm saying this because it involves

a crucial logical question, the basis for my decision to marry Shui Shui or Ya Ya. That is,

does a woman love a man for who he is, or for his penis? If a woman meets a man and

falls in love at first sight, and later he tells her I'm impotent, and she leaves him because of it, I can only conclude

that a woman, from the very beginning, views a man as a penis; in a woman's

eyes, a man is essentially a large penis.

I don't want to admit this. From my perspective, since I don't see women as large penises,

women shouldn't see me as large penises either. My impotence doesn't affect the accuracy of my judgment.

If Shui Shui and Ya Ya really leave me because of my impotence, then even though impotence is a very small,

pathological organ in my body, in their eyes, it actually represents me as a person—"impotent

. "

I thought of Shui Shui first. Shui Shui has never made any sexual advances towards me. She's more shy

in these matters than Ya Ya. When her clothes are open in front of me, there's always one button fastened. Even though my

hand sometimes unconsciously knocks that button off, Shui Shui always clings to me. My body becomes

her entire button. However, I never thought of taking things further. Perhaps impotence played a

decisive . I plan to contact Shui Shui directly first, talk to her about sex, not marriage, and

start with Freud's *The Story of Dora*. I used Freud's *The Story of Dora* instead of

the unpublished book *The Heart of a Young Girl* because I thought if she asked me, "Since you already know

the heart of a young girl, why haven't you made a move?" I really wouldn't have an excuse. Using Freud's books, I could proceed gradually,

asking her about the extent of her sexual fantasies, then cut to the chase by asking if she had any sexual fantasies about me. When

the time right, I would show her my penis—my beautiful "impotence."

Before I could even call her over, she was already there. I pretended to go out for a bit, and from a

public phone booth, I called Ya Ya, telling her I was going out tonight and she absolutely shouldn't come over. I figured

Ya Ya would never imagine I was going to sexually seduce Shui Shui tonight; I'd never had sex with Ya Ya before, and she

wouldn't suspect I'd have sex with anyone else. A woman's naiveté is so endearing at times like this.

As soon as Shui Shui arrived, I closed the door. I had barely turned around when Shui Shui threw herself into my arms.

I smelled alcohol on her breath. Her hands brazenly slipped inside my clothes, wrapped around my waist,

and rubbed my back. I was caught off guard. I hadn't even begun to play mind games with her, and directly

exposing my "impotence" would be inappropriate, and she wouldn't easily accept it. Besides, her actions were clearly provocative,

fueled by alcohol. I cupped her face in my hands, gently kissed her, then grabbed her shoulders, trying to push her away.

She let out a soft "hmm," tightened her embrace, and pressed her head against my chest, pushing me towards the bed. I

had nowhere to retreat; I'd barely moved to the bedside when she pushed me down onto it, pressing her body against mine.

I was getting a little hot, and my hands slipped inside her clothes, stripping her coat, underwear, and bra to shreds.

She was on top of me, and instead of using my hands to pull off her skirt and panties, I bent one leg, hooked it around her clothes, and pulled her

back, leaving her completely naked. Her naked body writhed against me, her lips never

leaving mine, one hand peeling off my clothes, the other hooking around my neck. When I was down to my last

pair of panties, I rolled over and pinned her beneath me. Despite my burning desire, I thought of my

erectile dysfunction and tried to maintain my last line of defense. But it was too late; she moved her hands down and quickly

pulled off my panties.

In this physical battle, I was clearly passive; she was driven by lust, and it was a swift and decisive affair

. I could smell the fading scent of alcohol on her breath. Her hands moved down from my waist, gripping

my buttocks, her genitals rubbing against me. She was pressed tightly against me, desperately searching

for something. It was my penis. I never imagined it would be so exhausted,

limp and lifeless. A sweat broke out on my brow, and panic gripped me. My body

writhed with each thrust , hoping that sometime, somewhere, it would suddenly rise again, displaying

the might of a powerful warrior. But no matter how much Shui Shui struggled beneath me, no matter

how much , no matter how much I prayed to God for inspiration for my penis, it was all in vain…

My emotions began to subside. When I gave up, my spirit finally collapsed.

Lying on top of Shui Shui, I couldn't feel her

warmth

. My blood felt thick and sticky. In that moment of grief, I wanted to devour her whole, even to strangle her, to kill her, to prevent her from harming me. Shui Shui was surprised that I had stopped moving. The fire within her was raging, almost overwhelming. She

pushed me away, sat up, and looked me over. I didn't dare meet her gaze; my eyes swept

over her and then turned to the roof. Shui Shui's body was beautiful; her pink and tender skin was very alluring, and her firm, round

breasts were even more pleasing. But I had no such thoughts at the moment. I felt ashamed of my impotence and wished I could

escape from the room and pass through the roof. Shui Shui reached out and touched my body, slowly moving downwards.

I wanted to turn around, but my nerves were numb, and I remained motionless, naked as she examined my

body . Finally, Shui Shui grabbed my penis, a tiny penis, a lifeless penis.

She was stunned for a long time, then suddenly said: "Wow! You're not a man after all."

I don't remember how Shui Shui got dressed or how she rushed out of my room. What I longed for was that I

hadn't jumped off the building and died that day. I am not a man .

(IV)

I no longer thought about marriage. Since Shui Shui said I wasn't a man, I no longer had the courage to propose to

anyone . Women are all the same; they are born with a penis, and they need a viable penis to match it. No matter

what kind of "man" you are, if you are impotent, you are not a man, and you are worthless in a woman's eyes.

In a woman's eyes, a man is just a big penis, a big penis for their amusement and entertainment. Empress Wu

Zetian favored the Zhang brothers, and Empress Lü kept extraordinary men in her harem—wasn't it all because of their penises?

Why would I want to get married? I don't need sex. I have alcohol to drink, disco, and wild girls to accompany me in

my unrestrained revelry. I re-recorded Beethoven's "Fate" Symphony with my shouts and disco beats.

While those girls were being stimulated to the point of nerve pain by this music, I was in high spirits, shouting:

"Don't say I'm empty inside, it's because I can't build a skyscraper on the ground, the sun doesn't shine on a ball..."

As these lustful girls rolled out of the room one by one, Ya Ya always stayed, unwilling to leave.

I continued playing that music until her nerves were almost broken, forcing her to escape. But today,

Ya Ya slammed my tape recorder shut and yelled at me, "You're a pig, only pigs listen to this

music!"

I am a pig, you're right. When I went to turn it back on, Ya Ya pulled out my tape and slammed it against

the wall. I picked up the tape recorder and slammed it against the wall too. The reverb was great, very modern.

Ya Ya stopped, and I stopped too.

Ya Ya didn't leave that night, even though the bed was narrow and I didn't share a blanket with her. She tried several times to crawl under my blanket, but

I kept myself wrapped up tightly, and she couldn't lift it. In the middle of the night, she got up to go to the bathroom, and when she came back, she suddenly pulled off

my blanket, crawled under it, and before I could do anything, she hugged me tightly, as if afraid I would push her away.

This was a very embarrassing moment for me. I love Ya Ya. My Shui Shui is gone; she hasn't seen me since that day.

I thought to myself, "Ya Ya, when you wake up tomorrow morning, you will also leave me, leave me forever." But I won't

let you say to me, "You're not a man." I'll tell you myself, so my heart will have no more desires!

I said to Ya Ya, "It's dangerous for you to hold me like that." Ya Ya was silent for a while, then said, "I'm not afraid .

Originally, I wanted you to marry me before I gave myself to you. You're too fickle with girls; I want you to focus on me." Hearing this,

I was truly at a loss for words. But I was ashamed to say it. I turned around, facing Ya Ya, and put my hand

inside her clothes, pressing it against her breast—I couldn't help but show a little intimacy.

I started to beat around the bush, going through countless twists and turns before finally saying what I wanted to say. But Ya Ya listened

calmly, then hugged my neck and laughed. Just as I was about to angrily push her away, she

said, "I've always wondered why you haven't slept with me, since you've slept with so many girls. Now I'm relieved."

Ya Ya still seemed like a little girl, and I was speechless for a moment. Ya Ya suddenly said, "I can cure your illness." I

squeezed her breast a little harder, then hugged her tighter; "Let's sleep." Ya Ya's emotions hadn't changed much, which had

released much of my filthy thoughts.

She was a good girl, just a good little girl.

(V)

When I woke up in the morning, Ya Ya had already left. Sunlight streamed in through the window, shining directly on the blankets. I shook

my head and suddenly realized that I should do something. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my penis,

feeling a pang of sorrow, as if I were pitying a poor, broken stranger. It was the deformed thing I had abused.

It's my karma. I have to save it, restore it to its original state, make it stand up again. I decided to go to

the hospital, not for anything else, just for Yaya.

As I crossed the street, the walls on both sides were covered with advertisements for treating male impotence and premature ejaculation. I

didn't dare look at them, feeling like someone was watching me, that gaze seemed to determine that I had impotence or premature ejaculation,

a look of disdain mixed with mockery, as if I had become a different kind of person, or a third kind. I am impotent,

so what?

When I arrived at the boys' hospital, I walked in with my chest puffed out. I didn't expect the hospital to be so crowded,

noisy like a people's assembly. This world is really interesting, so many impotent people. I felt quite smug.

Finally, it was my turn. The doctor looked to be in his sixties or seventies, a very impotent old man. I felt mocked

. Sitting there, I maliciously wanted to pull down the old man's pants to see his impotent appearance.

The old man asked me: How old are you? I told him I was of marriageable age. The old man asked again, "What illness do you have?" I said, "

What ?" The old man asked again, "Do you masturbate?" I said, "Old man, are you annoying me? What business is it of yours

if I masturbate?" The old man pulled down his glasses and scrutinized me, "When did you start masturbating?" I couldn't sit still anymore. Damn it, I

didn't come here to cure masturbation. I said, "What is masturbation? Show me, I don't understand you." The old man put

his two hands together and humorously rubbed one hand against the other, speeding up the process, then said

, "After this, a string of white stuff will shoot out." After the old man finished doing all this, he looked at

me with a smile in his eyes. I was both ashamed and angry, and wanted to walk away. But I thought of Yaya, my dear Yaya, and I said in

my heart , "Yaya, I'm making you a big penis." I held back and said to the old man, "Nothing has ever come

out." The old man didn't believe me and told me to take off my pants so he could see. Damn it, my impotence is so beautiful even

old men want to see it.

When I left the hospital, I was carrying a bag of medicine—a whole bunch of tonics, vitamins, and pain relief ointments. I

suddenly didn't understand how I ended up in this hospital. What was the point of me coming here to fix my penis for a woman, to

please ? Even without a penis, I can still shout, yell, sing, dance, go crazy, have fun, pee,

and be surrounded by a bunch of girls. If I'm lonely at night, someone will keep me company until dawn. Isn't that enough? I threw the bag of medicine into the trash can

and hailed a taxi. Damn it, go to a bar!

When Yaya came over that night, she brought a VCR and several videotapes. She mysteriously closed the door, plugged it in, and

told me to sit on the bed and watch the videos. I said I was going to watch martial arts movies because I was going to fight. My Wild Goose Kung Fu looks pretty good, I'm not bad at it

. Yaya said it wasn't a martial arts movie, and after a moment of silence, her face turned a little red. She said, "Watching this can

cure your illness." I said, "Little Yaya, don't be so naive. There's no such thing as watching videos curing illnesses." Yaya seemed a little

angry, her face stubborn. She said, "My mom makes my dad watch it once a week, secretly, together. They watch it together before it's even

finished and then they're all sticking together in their room. It's a pornographic film my dad found during a raid, a really high-class porn film. I secretly watched it once,

and after that I came here, but you ignored me. I really wanted to be raped by you, it happened a long time ago." Hearing her say that, I

was actually a little tempted, not hoping it would cure my illness, but wondering what was so special about this "high-class porn film.

" Yaya sat down next to me, putting her arm around me. The film started: one woman and one man,

two women and two men, three women and three men, three women and four men, three women and five men,

three women and six men… I said, "Yaya, that's like dogs! The dogs I saw when I was a kid looked like that."

I turned off the video camera. I said, "Yaya, none of the girls in the movie can compare to you. You're prettier than them,

a thousand times prettier. I feel a stirring in my heart when I see you, and I feel disgusted when I see them." Yaya lay on me, tears streaming down her face.

I thought to myself, "What's wrong with me? My Yaya did nothing wrong. My Yaya is right here in my arms. She's better than

any woman in the world. She's so docile that she could hold your pants down and let you pee, but I can't be her." Yaya started

taking off her clothes, until she was completely naked, and said through tears, "You can see me every day.

" At that moment, I really wanted to lie on Yaya and cry my heart out, but I held back. I swung my hand hard at the wall.

In an instant, a thought flashed through my mind, and I clenched my fist and punched that spot... It wasn't that

I couldn't, but Yaya's hand was already gently covering it.

(VI)

In the afternoon, I rode my bicycle to visit a friend. On the way back, I was hit by a taxi and fell

off the bicycle. Back in my dorm, I took off my clothes and saw that the skin on my thighs was broken,

even my scrotum was partially torn. Washing it with water caused a burning pain.

Lying in bed, I felt like I was on the verge of the end of the world. The pain of these past days had

killed me ninety-nine times over, even now, lying in bed, I felt half-dead. In these despondent and

hopeless days, Ya Ya became my only support. In front of her, I tried my best to force a smile,

a cruel smile in my heart. I tried to convince myself to let Ya Ya go. But every time I made that decision, I

backed . I selfishly stayed with Ya Ya, and in her repeated prayers, I also hoped for a miracle, hoped

that God's mercy would unintentionally fall upon me. I'm not a good-for-nothing; God has no reason to abandon me, let alone

torment me like this.

My bones felt like they were gradually loosening, my legs burned even more intensely, a surge of energy swelled inside me, slowly

overflowing my body, making me feel like I was floating in bubbles. The pain had spread to every nerve, and

a part of my body felt like it was swelling…

Suddenly, Ya Ya burst in. Seeing me lying on the bed, she didn't ask me anything, just sat on the edge of the bed, looking somewhat

lost . I reached out to grab her hand, but she pushed me away. I said, “Ya Ya,

what's wrong with you?” Ya Ya then buried her face in my blanket and started crying, pressing down on me painfully. The energy inside me was still swirling, and I could clearly

feel a part of me struggling to expand.

“Why are you still like this?” Ya Ya cried. “I can't stop it, but I love you.” I was suddenly

stunned, and sat up abruptly, asking Ya Ya what she was saying. Ya Ya kept pounding my chest with her hands. “I blame you,

I blame you, I blame you…” I suddenly fell backward, as if dead, but a part of my body felt like it

was bursting open. "Anyway, you can't go in, so you wouldn't know whether it's clean or dirty, good or bad..."

As I slowly regained my senses, I didn't know what I was thinking. I said to Ya Ya, "Take my blanket..."

"Lift it up." Ya Ya seemed not to hear at first, perhaps too preoccupied with her own grief, so I repeated myself. Ya Ya lifted my

blanket and suddenly froze. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, feeling as if it were about to crush me.

Ya Ya turned to look at me, hesitated, then looked back at it, as if in disbelief, her hand slowly

reaching towards it. I could sense that the imposing force of the blanket had intimidated her. But I was filled with despair.

Suddenly, she collapsed, sobbing loudly. Not onto my shoulder, not onto my chest, but

onto that part of me.

What am I to her!

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