Solicited Advice is Better Than Unsolicited Advice.

Dear Timythy.

I was born without a partition between my balls. Meaning, I have one big ball. It looks like someone left a brown fuckin (sic) sea anemone in the sun for nine years.
What do chicks have to say about uniballs? Will I ever be loved?
Sincerely,
Ball One

Not with that attitude, son.

I am reminded of a certain local firefighter acquaintance of mine who might very well sum up my advice to you with his particularly well-worn and signature aphorism: "cold coffee is better than no coffee." Never mind the fact that his romantic advice ought to go largely unheeded; and never mind that on numerous occasions he has prevented me from ending my own life through the irksome fulfillment of his public duties, The phrase is something to be meditated upon at this juncture.

"cold coffee is better than no coffee, son."

You, my friend, are afflicted with more than just monorchia. You have what is quite possibly a debilitating dearth of knowledge about sea anemones. What is more, son, is that you seem to be infected with a festering case of ingratitude.

There are literally scores of cryptorchids who would literally kill to be in your position. Thankfully, they somehow lack the motivation.

You've got one good ball, son! You should be out there USING it! And I don't just mean in the production of sperm. Technically, you can do that in your sleep. (IF you sleep at all, you freak of nature. Do you even have a reflection?) What I mean to say is you should be doing your damnedest to deliver deeds of derring-do! All too often, feats of courage and bravery are attributed to the testicle in its plural form. Through a well-executed (and well publicized) series of heroic and death defying acts, you could single-handedly redefine the idiom! How comforting, then, would it be to your beleaguered psyche to overhear some duly-impressed plebeian regaling his compatriots with tales of your greatness:

"Man, that kid has BALL!"

"A chrome-plated one!"

As to your question about what chicks might have to say about uniballs; I'm glad you asked.

I popped 'round to the all-male typing pool we have here at BIPL and asked the stout lads to broach the subject with their wives.
They said they had none. Who knew bachelors could type with the grit and determination one normally sees among married men? In any case, bereft of such a focus-group I'm forced, once again, into the position where I must speak for all women everywhere.
The answer, son, is a resounding "no," shortly followed by a well-anticipated "kill yourself."

-TIMYTHY