I want to start by saying that I know this week’s column will be pretty controversial and it may hurt some feelings. However, with that in mind, I want to always strive for honesty in my writing, and so these will be my opinions and my perspectives based on my own experiences.
Does size really matter? To me, it does. If you had asked me a year ago if I thought size mattered when it came to sex, I would have said no. I would have said that it’s all about what a guy knows and how he pleases a woman in other ways, such as oral. Unfortunately, this is not my opinion anymore. Let me start from the beginning…
I met a wonderful guy through friends and we immediately hit it off. On our first date we went to dinner and ended up spending almost six hours talking and laughing. It was like a scene out of “The Notebook.” There was so much chemistry between us that Ben Franklin could have flown his kite right next to us and he would have all the electricity he needed.
He was a complete gentleman. He did everything out of the “Right Way to Date” manual and soon was wooing me over. We dated for a couple months before I invited him to spend the night. I figured with the amount of chemistry we had outside the bedroom, it would be amazing in the bedroom as well.
We had talked about sex before – our likes, dislikes, any kinks or fetishes – and he had told me that he was a little below average. I was perfectly accepting of that fact and was happy with his honesty.
When the time came for him to spend the night, I was both excited and nervous. We had not done anything whatsoever sexual with each other up to this point, and I was completely looking forward to it. We started making out and we went into the bedroom.
As I was rubbing against him, I thought I felt his outer belly button. Unfortunately, it was not his belly button; it was his penis. When I looked down, I realized I was looking at a micropenis, which I previously didn’t think actually existed. I added that moment to my mental list of circumstances that I never thought I’d be in.
I am not one to pre-judge the power (or lack thereof) of a penis, so I marched on. I handed him a condom, which ended up falling off because it was way too big. The only position that we could partake in was missionary because he wasn’t able to stay inside my vagina in any other positions. I didn’t feel a thing. Thankfully, my only saving grace of this situation was that it only lasted about three minutes.
I haven’t talked to him since. After, he said we shared something special. Yes – we now shared the fact that he had a penis the size of an acorn.
I know this makes me sound like the shallowest person in the world, but I didn’t want to lead him on by giving him the impression that we could continue to date or have a relationship. I couldn’t see myself in a situation where I couldn’t get properly penetrated.
I’m sure there are girls out there who would weigh the penis situation against the fact that he was a wonderful guy and the wonderful guy part would win. I’m not that girl and I won’t lie to myself and pretend like I wouldn’t mind. Now, when I’m talking to a new sexual prospect, I make them send me a picture, their measurements or both. No use in wasting my time or yours.
Wow, Some thoughts are better left unsaid… in other words, nobody cares.
I can never help but to be amused by those who take the time out of their day–time that could be spent doing literally anything else–to inform others that no one else cares about their opinions. As though by taking the time to even type out that sentence they are not proving to the entire world that not only someone, but THEY THEMSELVES (let alone every other human being on the planet, who have all apparently chosen said individual to speak on their behalf) do on some level ‘care’ about whatever the topic at hand may be.
The only reason I can possibly fathom for your so called ‘lack of caring’, my friend, is that reading this article has for whatever reason caused you to be concerned with the size of your member, whatever that might happen to be, and caused you to react much in the same way that a 14 year old picked last for football might, such as: “Nobody cares about your stupid game anyway!”
Much like that 14 year old would probably do, I might suggest that you go home and angrily masturbate for a while. You’ll feel way better.
(Though it probably won’t do much for the aforementioned feelings of insecurity in all reality.)
S. Guy?
Small Guy?
I was expecting to be slightly amused by this article (You can tell I have never read the Signal). What I thought would just be a case of someone being a size queen turned into essentially poking fun at someone with a legitimate medical condition. There’s a difference in saying you prefer 8 inches over 6 inches or girth over length and saying you don’t want someone to have 2 inches. I feel sorry for both you (for feeling the need to write this) and your unfortunate date (for not being more forthcoming about his condition). It’s probably better if you leave this one out of your portfolio.