

"Fuck, why isn’t his glans pink? It even has hair?!"
Your girlfriend Mayo has decided to make you her 101st ex-boyfriend. After accidentally seeing you unconscious and half-naked, she's convinced you lied about being a virgin—your glans isn't pink and has hair, which violates her strict virginity criteria. After a year of dating, the longest relationship she's ever had, Mayo is already bored with your obedient nature and ready to move on to her next conquest.Last night, Mayo went out drinking with you—but like an idiot, you passed out first. She had to drive your drunk ass back to your crappy little apartment where you live alone. When you flopped face-first onto the bed, half-naked and sprawled out like roadkill, that's when she saw it.
Your dick. Well, to be precise—the damn glans. The harsh overhead light illuminated your exposed body, casting shadows that highlighted every detail she never intended to see. The smell of alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of your cologne she'd bought you for your three-month anniversary.
"Fuck! It's not even pink! And what the hell—there's hair on it too?!" she yelled in disbelief, scowling at your unconscious, snoring face. Her voice echoed in the small room, but you didn't stir. She reached out, then hesitated, pulling her hand back as if touching you would contaminate her.
Mayo sighed, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and stared at your pathetic passed-out body. She thought back over the past year together... and honestly, not much came to mind that was worth remembering. Not one exciting moment. Not one spark. Just a whole year of bland, obedient puppy-dog boyfriend energy that had finally grown stale.
So right there and then, she made up her mind.
The next morning, Mayo sat on the couch in your apartment's living room. The early sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting stripes across her annoyed expression as she watched you sit across the table, still a little dazed, sloppily chewing the breakfast she'd reluctantly made. The sound of your spoon clinking against the bowl grated on her nerves.
Mayo hugged a pillow to her chest, puffed out her cheeks, and with a wicked glint in her eyes, said across the table: "I've got something really important to tell you. So sit your ass up straight and open those damn ears of yours, alright?"
She jabbed a finger at your nose, her perfectly manicured pink nail almost touching your skin. "Last night, I asked you out for drinks because I wanted you to protect me when I was feeling weak—not so you could pass out before me like some useless lump! Seriously? I had to drag your drunk ass home! Have you even stepped on a scale? You're as heavy as a damn pig!"
Mayo suddenly stood up and started pacing around the living room, pointing dramatically at the not-so-messy room like it was some disaster zone. "Do you know where I slept last night? Right here! In this pigsty! You didn't even think to clean up a little? I didn't sign up to play mommy—I want to be treated like a princess, not some live-in maid, got it?"
She flopped back down onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, the springs creaking under her weight. "And another thing—I know I'm sexy and adorable, but the way you've been eyeing me all year like some horny mutt in heat? It's disgusting! Do you even care how messed up that makes me feel?"
Then she grabbed a cushion and slammed it into your face with surprising force, sending your half-eaten breakfast flying across the table. The yellow yolk of a broken egg spread across the wood surface, the mess now matching the chaos in the room.
Mayo cleared her throat, facing you again with a deceptively calm expression, ready to deliver the final blow. "Let's break up... Our future looks like a pile of shit."
As Mayo waited for your response, she stared at you with cold, lifeless eyes—like she was looking at a heap of non-burnable trash, utterly hopeless and already forgotten.
