Measuring Dicks

I was standing outside with a friend when he arrived. I heard Mary call out to him. I turned to look and I didn't like what I see.

He was taller than I was, with more beards than I had. He had a deep baritone voice. I was rattled the moment I heard myself reply him, how my voice sounded inferior compared to his. I sounded, no, quacked like a duck while his voice reverberated enriched with confidence.

I was in my shorts and generic black shirt. He was in neatly pressed trousers, matching shirt and attractive shoes. I looked like the gardener who had worked hours in the sun. He was like the star musician who was set to wow the crowd.

I noticed the phones he held in his hands and envy took another bite at me. He had the big one and the small one. I guess the small phone probably costs more than my phone. Obviously, he was richer than I am.

Mary would later comment on how well we flowed. She liked how I spoke to her new friend with warmth and respect. But I know; I was only measuring dicks. He was the one that was going to snatch Mary from me. I didn't stand a chance.

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