This is your classic “boy meets girl, boy and girl go back to her place, and he breaks his penis having sex” story. It also might be the best medical love story you’ll read all month.
Somehow the conversation turns to Margaret Thatcher. Somehow Margaret Thatcher becomes a recurring topic. Somehow Margaret Thatcher becomes our go-to sexual depressant. Somehow Margaret Thatcher ends up sitting naked on a suburban fence, legs swinging and twirling a top hat. Occasionally Reagan makes an appearance, too. There’s a lot of glitter involved. I invoke the former Prime Minister whenever I need to cool off. For emergency purposes only.
Also from The Awl, A Treasury of the World’s Worst Online Dating Stories. Warning, contains doozies.