Somewhere amidst my tenure of calling people cucks and snowflakes I realized that I too was a human being with feelings and emotions. *sad face*
I came to this unsettling epiphany during a congressional banquet where I was in attendance as an intern and was fortunate enough to dine with a major league roster of Republicans and Democrats.
Sometime during the event I noticed something rather irregular; a sort of burning sensation that I was being “inappropriately analyzed.”
The perpetrator of this heinous assault was none other than Nancy Pelosi, who I had originally thought was a wax statue decoration in the banquet hall because I previously hadn’t noticed any movement of any kind from her.
Had the feminists been right all along? Was there really such thing as “stare rape”?
Before that event I would’ve laughed, called you a cucklord and strutted away in my confident arrogance that you were a special snowflake.
My greatest fear was realized, however, that the feminists were right, stare rape was a real thing and it was happening to me!
With each visual caress from Pelosi I became startlingly aware that I was a victim of stare rape; she was undressing me with her eyes and thinking about ravenous sexual intercourse with me, no doubt.
It was such a tremendous violation that, beyond my reasonable judgement, I took to receding into isolation and engaged in a regiment of coloring book therapy for months.