Oh, my precious little quick shot, aren’t you just the epitome of disappointment? Watching you tremble and race to the finish line before the real fun even begins—it’s almost comical. Almost. No, darling, men satisfy. Men take control. You? You’re nothing but a fleeting burst of nothingness, a quick little spark that fizzles out before it even lights the fire. You’re the punchline to a joke no one wants to hear twice, and the only thing you seem capable of stretching is the patience of anyone unlucky enough to share a bed with you.