This article is dedicated to guys out there who have suffered from Limp Dick Syndrome: a condition that does NOT result in crazy hot sex and is caused by nervousness, malfunction or excessive alcohol intake. To prove the universality of this anticlimactic (no pun intended) ailment, I collected stories from girls who’ve witnessed the phenomenon firsthand. As it turns out, boys, you’re not alone.

I was looking to end my dry spell when I met Ryan (name has been changed to protect the guilty). He was cute — tall, pretty eyes, not a douchebag. It could have been the way he looked at my eyes instead of my exquisite rack, or maybe it was my need to see a penis without being separated by a computer screen… but when Ryan leaned in and kissed me like a true gentleman, my thoughts sprang to the truly savage behavior I hoped was lurking under his polo. A few sultry looks and our eighth tequila shot later, we migrated to my bedroom. We were rounding bases at an impressive speed and closing in on a home run when the effing ball turned into a cockblock and Ryan struck out. For a drunk, hyper-sexual chick, failure is not an option, and I pulled out ALL the stops. Sexy corset, five-star blow job, the works. It was a close call, but he was outta there.

My “Ryan Story” is not unique to alluring sex columnists. In fact, girls all over Isla Vista have experienced some version of this tale. One fourth-year female, for example, wasn’t sure how to react when her chem major hunk couldn’t perform one night. Sex with this boy had released her inner wild child, so when he brought her to an empty apartment with promises to fulfill her greatest desires, she was stoked. Unfortunately, this science guy had invested too much time easing his nerves at the bar, and although the pair had serious chemistry, their atoms simply didn’t bond that night.

Luckily for these two couples, they were alone when disaster struck. For Giselle (name has been changed to protect the innocent) and her prom date, this was not the case. There is something truly special about a prom date. It doesn’t matter if he’s your down-the-creek neighbor or she’s a Snooki look-alike, there’s a good chance you want to see them naked. For Giselle and “David,” it was in the backseat of her friend’s Bronco. Despite a serious connection on the dance floor, the pair seemed to be having trouble getting the bronco to buck. The situation wasn’t helped by the arrival of a drunkard looking for a jacket he left in the backseat. Giselle dismounted the beast disappointed, David fled the scene mortified and the interrupting drunk was left with a slightly soiled jacket. It wasn’t quite Brittany Snow’s “Prom Night,” but the evening certainly wasn’t a box office hit.

When a girl discovers that her partner is afflicted with LDS, she has two options: stick around for a.m. action or abandon ship. For an anonymous blonde who had climbed two flights of stairs and a bunk bed ladder, option one simply didn’t exist. After 30 minutes of sexy maneuvers on her part and promises of a speedy recovery on his part, the O.C.-native hiked down the bed, down the stairs and past his video game-engrossed roommates. I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time FIFA players scored higher than the little boy in the bunk bed.

To all the Ryans, Davids, bio babes and bedtime babies, here’s a hint from the girls who’ve been let down by your depressed dick: The next time Jack Daniels steals your mojo, entice your lady to stay the night with oral sex and promises of bagels in the morning. And if that doesn’t work, you can always transfer. I hear the University of Coitus Interruptus has some openings.

Send your own embarrasing stories to