Men Unplugged: Of G-nuts, Girth, and the Grand Delusion, An African Discourse on Penis Panic, Masculine Mythology, and Erotic Misunderstandings

 

By Isaac Christopher Lubogo

 

Epigraph:

“He who pounds cassava harder doesn’t always make sweeter kwon.”

— Luo Proverb

 

 

DISCLAIMER & EROTIC CAUTIONARY NOTE

“Of G-nuts, Girth, and the Grand Delusion”

By Isaac Christopher Lubogo

 

 

Disclaimer: For Mature, Mentally Clothed Readers Only. The characters are only fictional.

 

This article is unapologetically provocative, intellectually seductive, and deliberately satirical. It is intended strictly for readers of mature age, sober mind, and erotic literacy. If you are under 18, emotionally unstable, allergic to truth, or still believe that love is manufactured solely in your loins—leave now.

 

The content within explores male insecurities, penis panic, and bedroom dramatics using raw language, African humour, and exaggerated erotic scenarios. It pokes the soft belly of male ego, challenges phallic supremacists, and dares to ask: “What if all your mattress gymnastics meant absolutely nothing to her?”

 

You will laugh, you may cringe, and—if your conscience is still intact—perhaps blush. Some of you, midway through reading, may experience spontaneous Eros Election Syndrome (EES)—a brief, involuntary arousal triggered by high doses of truth wrapped in intellectual arousal. If this happens, don’t panic. It is not witchcraft; it is wisdom—stimulating the part of your soul that never thought it needed therapy.

 

Let it be known: this is not erotica. It is a philosophical unzipping of the erotic myths men worship like golden calves. It is not for pleasure, but for awakening. Any stimulation, arousal, or pelvic tremors that occur are merely collateral damage in the war against delusion.

 

So read with an open mind and a zipped trouser. Let your laughter be honest and your reflection be deep. And remember:

 

> “Even a lion doesn’t roar just to prove it has teeth.”

 

 

 

Now go on, brave soul. Let the truth arouse your intellect and perhaps—just perhaps—liberate your bedroom forever.

 

#ReaderDiscretionArising

 

MEN UNPLUGGED BEGINS NOW.

 

Introduction: The Gourd Is Not Always Empty

 

In every village, from Dokolo to Ntungamo, there exists a sacred myth—one whispered between men under mango trees, passed down in taxis, and reinforced by YouTube “doctors” with herbal diplomas. It is the belief that if only your penis were bigger, stronger, longer, harder, louder, deeper, you’d finally be crowned the true king of the bedroom. That women—these mysterious, multi-layered beings—are just waiting to be shattered into submission by a “kikumi-kikumi” from a man carrying a biological log.

 

But allow me, in this deeply African and unapologetically honest discourse, to grab that myth by its overinflated neck and throttle it with truth. For in truth lies the comedy, the tragedy, and the liberation.

 

 

Lesson One: When Okoth Drank the Giraffe’s Tail

 

There lived a man in Busia called Okoth. In his youth, he was nicknamed “radio mirembe” for his soft voice and gentle approach to women. But after being mocked by a friend who called his manhood “a USB cable in a socket meant for three-phase power,” Okoth lost peace. He sold two goats, borrowed money from the SACCO, and went to a Kampala herbalist named “Dr. Wa Bbaale Omukulu.” The good doctor prescribed a concoction made from crushed baboon testicles, dried Nile perch gallbladder, and herbs from the mountain of naked men.

 

Okoth took it religiously. He even stopped drinking beer to save the herbs’ potency. Weeks passed, and yes—it grew. Slightly. But when he returned to Awor, the woman of his heart, something else shrank—her interest.

 

She said, “Okoth, where did your jokes go? Your storytelling? Your kindness? Now all you do is thrust and monitor. This is no longer love; it’s warfare!”

 

 

Lesaon Two: The Woman Speaks but the Man Hears What He Wants

 

Women across Africa have screamed this truth in different tongues: “It’s not the size, it’s the sincerity.” But men? They hear what suits their panic. You tell a man, “I love it when you hold me afterward,” and he hears: “Next time try handstands during the act.” You say, “You make me feel safe,” and he buys a donkey aphrodisiac from Owino market instead.

 

Why? Because society taught him to equate his manhood with his weapon, not his warmth. He becomes a prisoner of performance, of pressure, of pelvic theatrics. He forgets that a woman is not a drum to be beaten but a harp to be strummed—gently, attentively, musically.

 

 

Lesson Three: The Curse of The Kampala Bedroom Olympics

 

Let’s be honest: we live in an age of erotic capitalism. Radio talk shows are riddled with “Bedroom King” ads. There’s a tea that gives you six-hour stamina, an oil that makes your banana “strong like Mugabe’s rule,” and another that allegedly makes a woman call you her ‘mzee of thunder.’ The market thrives because men are scared. Of rejection. Of inadequacy. Of being compared.

 

But here’s the bombshell: most women are not sexually satisfied not because you’re short, but because you’re emotionally absent. You bring anaconda moves to a woman who needed a conversation. You arch your back like an athlete, but haven’t asked how her day was. You moan louder than her, and call it dominance. No sir. That’s drama.

 

 

Lesson Four: The Wisdom of Mama Nankya

 

Mama Nankya of Mpigi, now 89, once said to a group of young girls:

 

> “My husband was short and quiet. But every night, he would place his hand on my back and say, ‘I am here, Nankya.’ That, my daughters, was sweeter than any motion.”

 

 

 

Her daughters nodded. Some wept. Because they too had encountered six-pack, six-inch, loud-mouth men whose love was hollow and whose rhythm was borrowed.

 

Eros is not about the pounding—it’s about the presence.

 

 

 

Lesson Five: Philosophers Speak (But They Were Ignored)

 

Even the wise have spoken:

 

Nietzsche: “There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”

 

Plato: “Love is a serious mental disease”—and yet most men only treat it with genital gymnastics.

 

Okonkwo’s ghost (Things Fall Apart) might whisper: “A real man is measured not by how hard he thrusts but how deeply he sees.”

 

 

 

Conclusion: The Return of the Real Man

 

Brothers, take back your minds from the puppeteers of penis paranoia. Tear down the posters that say “size equals pleasure.” Burn the herbs if you must. Return to the art of conversation, compassion, humour, and timing.

 

She didn’t leave you because your machine was faulty. She left because the operator was emotionally unavailable, insecure, and obsessed with demolition over intimacy.

 

Let your penis be part of the story—not the whole plot.

 

So next time you’re told “size doesn’t matter,” don’t scoff—listen. Perhaps the very freedom you seek is not in your groin, but in your growth.

 

#Lubogonomics | #ErosReimagined | #MenUnplugged

More at: [www.lubogo.org]