DOES SIZE REALLY COUNT?
Me and my long-suffe
ring girlfriend, who has sticked by me through my Alcoholics Anonymous (see pictures) meetings, chemotherapy sessions and painful tattooing (see pictures) hours met at a lavish coffee shop to discuss yet another burning issue, my newfound discomfort about the size of my Willy. Yeah, you heard me right, penis. The last time me and her brought rulers and calculators for my ego’s sake "it" ended up on the average side of the scale, but recently I'd been feeling small, not m
an enough and that affected my self-esteem.
"You know the other day I surprised everyone at the pharmacy when I demanded extra large strawberry flavoured condoms" I confessed. She smiled, while tearing the sugar sachet. "I guess the sisters licked their lips in envy huh?" she enquired.
"Sure, they fancied I packed a healthy eighteen inch" I responded, sipping my coffee idly.
"But why are you guys obsessed with penis sizes?" the question came as she seductively took a bite on a muffin.
"Lovemaking sweety, the bigger they come, the greater the oomph"
"But wasn’t Adam satisfying Eve? Did your obsession start at the Garden?" she sarcastically enquired. However, I knew there was something good about a big one since most of our friends were paying anyone with a promise to get them one. "We are only concerned with size because some of your sisters are. When you indulge in girl-talk you discuss us and suppose someone mentions how small her partner is you laugh your hearts out" I protested, she laughed out loud, spilling her coffee in the process. Some of the patrons turned to look at us as the waiter attended to her clumsiness. She found humour in what I said because she knew it wasn’t far from the truth. "So, what do you do to develop it? Balance light weights on it, put on boxer shots and exercise using skipping rope or rub that foul smelling cream, what’sitsname?" she asked laughing. The waiter returned with her replacement, she reached for the milk.
"Say whatever you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that to us size matters a lot. You must remember that a small to average one means a low to average self esteem" was my humble reasoning.
"But baby, a penis is supposed to be a tool of pleasure, more like a lollipop, not a torture stake" my girlfriend said, ordering me another cappuccino and a fresh milk tart. I gently nodded, reaching for her hand. She held my palm as if to reassure me that my size does not matter, but I knew it did.
"Okay let’s tell the truth here. Do you still remember those love toys you gave to your cousin?"
"Yes"
"Do you still remember how enormous that dildo was? All the four vibrators were huge, I am nowhere near them" I finally caught her. She blushed, then retorted strongly.
"Yeah, they couldn’t kiss me that’s why I chucked them out for you". My cappuccino came. After much silence I spoke, "So I’m just that, a substitute for a stupid gadget?" I threw a tantrum.
"No, all I’m say
ing is that they were huge because they couldn’t kiss me and they had to supplement for their shortfall, but you are a good kisser darling and I can’t remember how sma…" A pin dropped, she cut herself short and lifted her mug of lukewarm coffee. I looked at her, thought about doing a traditional enlargement which I knew a traditional healer who could and shock her one day when she came by my place. "I’m sorry"
"No, you meant that"
"No, forgive me, the thing is that a penis is just ten per cent of the ingredients of a healthy relationship. And suppose anybody enlarges it by muti, that’s witchcraft and I don’t fancy you subjecting yourself to the devil" she said as if she was reading my mind. She finished her muffin and outstretched her hands. A waiter came to enquire if he could run the bill. "No" I responded, "get her another coffee and muffin". He left, she made a face, I laughed. "But how do you convince a man who is really small that beany does not matter?" I asked.
"Why should we?"
"Because we will believe everything you say if you said it with sincerity, even if it was a lie"
"But baby, we don’t care about the size of your love muscle as long as you got a big heart and a big brain" she paused. Big heart, big brain? "I don’t even look down there when you strip naked because honestly, I don’t care"
"But I mean there are two of us, me and my friends say it doesn’t matter but there is always that percentage that says it does, and that which does not care is usually endowed. So what incentive do we get?" my question was solemn.
"Incentive? Okay, it’s acceptable to worry, you’re not alone. Aren’t we insecure about our own bodies too? Don’t we tell you to switch off the lights before we undress and never to videograph our sessions?" she resigned herself. I felt for her, but I knew there were times when size came in very handy. "But darling I need to be remembered for a role I played in your life. So if I can’t have a big brain, a big car, a big heart or a big wallet, at least I think it is only fair to be remembered for something big under my pants" I finally echoed. She called for the bill, I didn’t have a big wallet, she footed it. However, I had something I knew she would always remember me by. Under my pants.
ring girlfriend, who has sticked by me through my Alcoholics Anonymous (see pictures) meetings, chemotherapy sessions and painful tattooing (see pictures) hours met at a lavish coffee shop to discuss yet another burning issue, my newfound discomfort about the size of my Willy. Yeah, you heard me right, penis. The last time me and her brought rulers and calculators for my ego’s sake "it" ended up on the average side of the scale, but recently I'd been feeling small, not m
an enough and that affected my self-esteem."You know the other day I surprised everyone at the pharmacy when I demanded extra large strawberry flavoured condoms" I confessed. She smiled, while tearing the sugar sachet. "I guess the sisters licked their lips in envy huh?" she enquired.
"Sure, they fancied I packed a healthy eighteen inch" I responded, sipping my coffee idly.
"But why are you guys obsessed with penis sizes?" the question came as she seductively took a bite on a muffin.
"Lovemaking sweety, the bigger they come, the greater the oomph"
"But wasn’t Adam satisfying Eve? Did your obsession start at the Garden?" she sarcastically enquired. However, I knew there was something good about a big one since most of our friends were paying anyone with a promise to get them one. "We are only concerned with size because some of your sisters are. When you indulge in girl-talk you discuss us and suppose someone mentions how small her partner is you laugh your hearts out" I protested, she laughed out loud, spilling her coffee in the process. Some of the patrons turned to look at us as the waiter attended to her clumsiness. She found humour in what I said because she knew it wasn’t far from the truth. "So, what do you do to develop it? Balance light weights on it, put on boxer shots and exercise using skipping rope or rub that foul smelling cream, what’sitsname?" she asked laughing. The waiter returned with her replacement, she reached for the milk.
"Say whatever you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that to us size matters a lot. You must remember that a small to average one means a low to average self esteem" was my humble reasoning.
"But baby, a penis is supposed to be a tool of pleasure, more like a lollipop, not a torture stake" my girlfriend said, ordering me another cappuccino and a fresh milk tart. I gently nodded, reaching for her hand. She held my palm as if to reassure me that my size does not matter, but I knew it did.
"Okay let’s tell the truth here. Do you still remember those love toys you gave to your cousin?"
"Yes"
"Do you still remember how enormous that dildo was? All the four vibrators were huge, I am nowhere near them" I finally caught her. She blushed, then retorted strongly.
"Yeah, they couldn’t kiss me that’s why I chucked them out for you". My cappuccino came. After much silence I spoke, "So I’m just that, a substitute for a stupid gadget?" I threw a tantrum.
"No, all I’m say
ing is that they were huge because they couldn’t kiss me and they had to supplement for their shortfall, but you are a good kisser darling and I can’t remember how sma…" A pin dropped, she cut herself short and lifted her mug of lukewarm coffee. I looked at her, thought about doing a traditional enlargement which I knew a traditional healer who could and shock her one day when she came by my place. "I’m sorry""No, you meant that"
"No, forgive me, the thing is that a penis is just ten per cent of the ingredients of a healthy relationship. And suppose anybody enlarges it by muti, that’s witchcraft and I don’t fancy you subjecting yourself to the devil" she said as if she was reading my mind. She finished her muffin and outstretched her hands. A waiter came to enquire if he could run the bill. "No" I responded, "get her another coffee and muffin". He left, she made a face, I laughed. "But how do you convince a man who is really small that beany does not matter?" I asked.
"Why should we?"
"Because we will believe everything you say if you said it with sincerity, even if it was a lie"
"But baby, we don’t care about the size of your love muscle as long as you got a big heart and a big brain" she paused. Big heart, big brain? "I don’t even look down there when you strip naked because honestly, I don’t care"
"But I mean there are two of us, me and my friends say it doesn’t matter but there is always that percentage that says it does, and that which does not care is usually endowed. So what incentive do we get?" my question was solemn.
"Incentive? Okay, it’s acceptable to worry, you’re not alone. Aren’t we insecure about our own bodies too? Don’t we tell you to switch off the lights before we undress and never to videograph our sessions?" she resigned herself. I felt for her, but I knew there were times when size came in very handy. "But darling I need to be remembered for a role I played in your life. So if I can’t have a big brain, a big car, a big heart or a big wallet, at least I think it is only fair to be remembered for something big under my pants" I finally echoed. She called for the bill, I didn’t have a big wallet, she footed it. However, I had something I knew she would always remember me by. Under my pants.
Lets face it we guys are the ones who suffer from penis envy, which is ultimately the one truth to come out of mel gibsons'what women want' movie.The rest of the movie is a sad case of bullshit.Even and my relatively endowed member have feelings of discomfort and insecurity- one day its so huge it needs no introduction and the next day you have to check to continually remind yoself its there, and this thing has seasons as well. Winter is the time most women will be begging you to get laid and thats the time it decides to shrink. Summer is good for size.
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