never so simple

So that last post probably left you thinking I’m just another guy who wishes he had a bigger dick. Yes and no. Let’s get one thing out of the way right off the top: every guy wishes he had a bigger dick. If you were standing naked next to all your buddies (let’s just go with it here) it wouldn’t matter which of you was cuter, which of you was fatter or even whether or not you were pasty white. Everybody in that room is going to notice the guy with the biggest salami this side of the deli counter. You can rhyme off all the studies and surveys you want about how “size doesn’t matter” and how most women prefer a moderately sized penis to an over-sized one; you can spend days, months and even years trying to convince us otherwise but in the end, it does matter. Why? Well that’s a complicated question.

The easy answer is the one you’ll find pretty much everywhere you look: the locker room test. A guy wants to know that when he wanders through a locker room every guy in that room looks at him (though most wouldn’t admit to it) in awe. The funny part of that is that I’ve never in my life walked naked through a locker room. I haven’t even been in a locker room since I was in high-school. Now I know that’s not necessarily true for every guy, but it’s fair to say that a vast majority of people aren’t naked much outside their own walls. So why then have I always wished I had a python-sized appendage between my legs?

A big dick is like the ultimate trump card. You can be smart; others are smarter. You can be good looking; others are more handsome. You can be funny; others are more funny. There will always be bigger? True, but here’s the thing: all of that other stuff, that’s stuff you can change. You can learn to be smarter. You can clean up your look, get a makeover and even go so far as to get surgery to become more attractive. Learn to laugh a little more and you’ll probably be more funny. If the person standing next to you can’t compete with your meat, they never will.

So a few hundred words later and I’ve yet to get to my point. All of what I wrote up there? It’s a lie. The trick is, I believe it’s true. I’ve believed it to be true since that day nearly 20 years ago when I first watched a well-endowed man get exactly what he wanted from his eager female partner. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to compensate for the fact that I can never be that guy. It’s taken me almost as long to figure that out. No matter what I do in my life, I never feel like it’s enough. I will always be looking for the one thing I can never have: to be the biggest guy in the room. You’ve heard the expression, “the grass is always greener on the other side“? Well, for me it’s, “the dick is always bigger on the other guy“

genesis

So where does it all begin? When was that watershed moment when everything in my life began to change in ways I could have never foreseen?

You’ll probably get a kick out of this, but when I was about 10 or 11-years-old I saw my first porn movie. Well, not the entire thing really, probably just a scene. I couldn’t even tell you exactly what went on in the scene (aside from the obvious) but the fact that I remember it at all is enough to convince me that it was a pivotal moment. One of the stranger things about me is that I remember so little of my own history that on the odd occasion something sticks with me I tend to take notice. That’s a recurring theme that I’ll probably come back to. I need some kind of footnote or endnote or some such thing to keep track of it all.

Anyway, you’re probably thinking that 11 is too young to be watching that sort of stuff. You’d be right of course. That doesn’t mean there aren’t 11-year-olds (and I’m sure even younger kids) experiencing the same thing every day. And before you go off on some tangent about how easy it is to access now-a-days, I’ll burst that bubble by telling you I’m 30-years-old and there was no internet when I was a kid. Nope, this was good, old fashioned VHS tape.

There are probably a dozen or more reasons that this event could have shaped the person I would become, and if any of those were true, I wouldn’t feel the need to sit here and write about it. It wasn’t until recently that the impact of this moment even became apparent to me. I hadn’t grown up, as you might expect, seeking sex wherever I could. I hadn’t grown to become a raging misogynist, compelled to ogle and display awareness of beautiful women at every turn. What porn had done to me in that briefest of glimpses was something far more sinister. Porn made me feel inadequate.

“But you were only 11-years-old!”

I’m not going to tell you that the moment I stopped watching my world started spinning into a death-spin of inadequacy and self-loathing. I mean it’s not that big a deal. The truth is, I quite liked the experience. And when shortly thereafter it went along with masturbation, well, let’s just say I ain’t complainin’. Porn and I have been good friends ever since (yah, we’ll probably get back to that sometime later).

Little did I know then that the chances of my growing up to have a 9-inch penis and a perfectly sculpted body were so ridiculously unlikely. Now that, my friends, is the start of a good old-fashioned preoccupation, the basis for countless neuroses and the beginning of my story…

history

So here I am again.  Or at least it’s like old times for me anyway.  I used to have a blog much like this one that I ended up giving up on because I never took the time to post on it.  Turns out I miss it.   Who would have thought?

 A part of me — and maybe it’s a natural way to think about such things — doesn’t see much point in putting words down on a public page that nobody reads.  I spend most of my days thinking thoughts quietly to myself and it seems a little like work to take those thoughts and type them out for the benefit of… well, obviously no one.  I guess where I’m stuck is that another part of me misses the catharsis of spilling things onto a (virtual) page.  It’s therapeutic to take the mess of ideas and self-analysis out of my head and put it somewhere that it can be seen.  That’s not to say that it ever will.

So here I am, again.  If by some random chance you encounter this page, let it be known that this is the last time I will ever attempt to explain what goes on here.  From this point forward, everything on this blog will just be right out of my head with little regard for what the non-existent reader might think.  Hopefully I won’t break any of wordpress.com’s obscenity restrictions in the process.