Abomination About Town

Abomination About Town

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Abomination About Town
Abomination About Town
Being a Woman Who Gets Erections, Transition and Escaping The Prison of Performative Masculinity.

Being a Woman Who Gets Erections, Transition and Escaping The Prison of Performative Masculinity.

A tale of premature ejaculation and fumbling bra-straps.

Seán Dowling's avatar
Seán Dowling
May 19, 2025
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Abomination About Town
Abomination About Town
Being a Woman Who Gets Erections, Transition and Escaping The Prison of Performative Masculinity.
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Dearest Abominations, I’m all about throwing wild opinions into the world for all to see, but I’m keeping the spicier content behind the paywall. So, buy a girl a drink first and remember, lovers… I will ALWAYS give you a taste.


Everything about my performance in this sexual encounter seemed to spell disaster.

It had the hallmarks of all the bedroom things men dread. Intermittent erections, bra-clasp fumbles, condom malfunctions, weathering bouts of irreverent giggles at said fumbles and malfunctions and of course, the dreaded premature ejaculation.

Oh, and then she made a joke about the premature ejaculation.

I can literally hear men’s erections shrivelling up. I can see them retreating into their bodies at the sheer thought of experiencing the horror of an encounter like this.

“It sounds terrible!” I hear you think. Yes, this certainly SOUNDS like the sort of sexual encounter that’d live on your memory for decades, taunting you from the sidelines of your subconscious every time you disrobe to do the deed. It even sounds like the sort of encounter that’d become the stuff myths are made of. The sort of encounter whose telling is passed around the pub, scrawled on the toilet walls and gleefully reenacted by your drunk mates at 2am for everyone else’s entertainment.

Was I devastated? Did the walls of my psyche cave in? Was my self-worth demolished, leaving nothing but the bitter ruins of woman-hating-incel psychosis because someone laughed at my flagging prowess?

No, of course not… It was magnificent sex!

Glorious. Perfect. Exquisite! The sort of fucking that fills you with joy. Sex that feels like the world outside the rented room is ending, blasted to stellar dust and fading memory while you remain safe, ensconced in this cocoon of lust and passion and understanding. 10/10. Would do again and wouldn’t change a damn thing about it!

But how is this possible?

The easiest way to explain it to you is the same way I told my lover as we lay breathless in each other’s arms.

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