Satire: Eric Weinstein Talks Romance

Only respect for Eric Weinstein. Simply satire.

“As I enter her moist rotunda, I feel deep gratitude that I have taken it upon myself to be with her. Here. Within this particular sphere of existence. In the mud of her vagina, I become earth. What treasures will nature offer me? That depends on how long I last in the jungle. Will I seek temporary deprivation in order to last longer and, finally, at a moments notice, rain on her forest like a force of nature? In the gemstones of her mind, I am the universe. In the swirl of my urethra, she is the conductor. Drawing out my moist, viscous pleasure. Prodding me to scream victoriously. While I do enjoy it, I must temper my pleasure like an iron rod of honor. For my arousal is but a pin drop in the symphony that is our sex. The timpani is pounding and my thunderous trombone wants to belt out its own tune but I refrain. I prolong the dance with hushed silence. Capping off my spout with thoughts of sports and science. But just when the time is right. Victorious symbiosis. I cement my manhood on her belly. And now I sing.”