From the original article on November 2, 2015. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
We’re all familiar with the thousand-cock stare — the glazed, unfocused, hollow eyes of a broken slut in the grips of a delirium from having taken a few too many rides on the cock carousel.
There’s a male analogue to the thousand-cock stare:
This is the thousand-cuck stare, the tormented look of a man in the friendzone trying desperately to hide his pain from the world. His suffering is exquisite; always within sniffing distance of prime poosy but who may as well be twelve parsecs from ever reaching vaghalla. He is cucked by: a jerk boyfriend, a mandingo lover, his own futility, the cosmic overlord. Another man has what he wants, but the poor bastard doesn’t even have the dignity or good sense to stop being a party to his humiliation. Instead of admitting failure, he’ll pretend as if his blue balls are a badge of honor and his sexless circumstance is his free choice.
But his eyes will belie the massive backlog of sperm in his aching testes. If you see a man with the thousand-cuck stare, be on guard. There’s no telling when he might snap, like John Boehner remembering his mudsharking daughter and what his grandkids will look like.
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