I am a kind man, and someone who is as equal as any other man (except possibly Bill Gates type people, in which case I am not the only one who isn’t equal). But there is something about me which is not quite equal, and something which has ruined many a date. I think you know what I am talking about: I am talking about my hands. They are smaller than average, slightly feminine, and something that I would change in a second if I had the opportunity. But sadly hand-transplants aren’t the kind of thing which you can get on the NHS. I’m sure you can probably get them somehow, but without resorting to dodgy tactics, I am yet to find a way.

I wouldn’t mind, only women judge men on their hands. It’s a fact. They discern many a thing from them: 1) how MANLY they are. 2) How good they might be at things involving the hands and 3) other things which I can not and will not mention here. It’s all very unfair, really. But there really isn’t much I can do about it. (I should say that this isn’t a problem every minute of my life; it’s really only an issue when meeting new women for the first time.)

Luckily for me I am extremely intelligent (and know all about mole removal, which is a good conversation starter), so life is quite easy. And there are many advantages with having small hands, too. One of them is that by standing next to someone with freakishly large hands, I look normal by comparison, which is nice.