A buddy of mine developed bipolar disorder and schizophrenia in his early 20s and decided on a whim to go to Tijuana for a sex change.

Apparently, mid-surgery something went wrong - not sure the details - but they basically stitched up what was left, leaving just a small, scarred protrusion (think a Ken doll.)

Unable to have a (traditional) physical relationship with a woman, he tried his luck as a bottom. He’s a good looking guy and so managed to score some dates but the guys he got with usually got weirded out and didn’t want to see him again.

Whether it was the literal emasculation or the mental illness simply winning out, he continued to spiral downwards. He moved back to our hometown shortly thereafter and for the past decade has lived in squalor a few towns over, scoring drugs whenever he gets his inheritance allowance, then taking a bus to our old neighborhood, walking around aimlessly for hours and then going back to the ghetto for another score.

TLDR: (straight) childhood friend went off his meds, got a botched sex change in Mexico on a bipolar episode and now has neither knob nor gobbler; tried his hand as a bottom to no avail and now subsists on a diet of smack and nostalgic walks around our old hood.