Consider the hot dog. While it has its 2-foot-long renditions in places like Six Flags, in general, it is enjoyed by the general public at an average length of six inches. See, six inches is a length that makes sense. Six inches is manageable. Six inches fits in the right places. You can hold six inches in one hand.
Sure, monster hot dogs slathered in chili and Funyuns have their appeal, especially if it’s 3 a.m., you’re hunting down Mizzou Hot Dogs and your bloodstream is circulating more beer than hemoglobin. Any other day, though, six inches is just fine.
So what I don’t get about the male culture is the “who has the biggest dick” obsession. I’m sure it dates all the way back to evolutionary times, when having a big appendage meant that not only were you able to provide for your women, but you could also use said appendage to beat prehistoric predators to death. So understandably, for a caveman and women driven to reproduce, a big penis had its perks.
As a human living in 2014 with ample access to Louisville Sluggers I can use to beat up animal predators, I just don’t see why bigger is supposed to be better. Because, let me tell you, the worst sexual experience I’ve ever had was with the most well-endowed guy I’d ever seen.
Sure, at first sight, I was pretty thrilled when the pants dropped and I was introduced to the organ in question. It was like when you get the “Gotta Have It” bowl at Cold Stone. There’s so effing much of the goodness that you’re momentarily dazzled by sheer much-ness. Because if we value anything here in America, it’s much-ness.
Within seconds, though, there, ahem, arose some problems. Like an over-sized diesel truck, it took forever to, well… you know. And then, because over-sized diesel trucks get terrible gas mileage, there was about a 30-second window before the blood flow failed to keep up, and the show was over. Our supposed romantic tryst turned into a Great Pumpkin watch party, as we laid in wait for the appendage in question to resurrect.
Putting on the condom was nearly impossible. Trying to fit it anywhere led to an aching jaw and a terrified vagina that refused to cooperate. We tried three times. It literally did not work.
Which is why I say: Give me a small penis any day. Not only is it more manageable, like your favorite hot dog, but guys who know that they can’t just stun you to orgasm with that sheer much-ness consistently tend to have actual technique. These are the guys who, while the more well-hung Neanderthals were beating young gazelles to death with their jaw-dropping members, were the ones romancing the cavewomen back at the cave, so to speak.
According to 90-year-old sex columnist Mahinder Watsa, as long (sorry) as you’ve got at least 2.5 inches going, you can do wonders, stud.
Still, if there’s anything we’ve learned from Dove beauty campaigns and a general appreciation for humanity, it’s that we come in all shapes and sizes, and no one size — or length — is better than the other. I’m just speaking as a relatively short girl with an even shorter cervix, who has had above average experiences with dudes who don’t scare the crap out of me with their body parts.
The takeaway is this: Guys, your penis is a great pleasure-giving, life-affirming — literally — part of your body, and that’s all that matters. Don’t get in a tizzy and whip out a ruler. Don’t compare yourself in the locker room (Is that what dudes do? I don’t know. I get this from watching Freaks and Geeks). Keep lube on hand and realize that 99 percent of your potential sexual partners couldn’t care less how many inches you are. Figure out some techniques to use with your little buddy, whether he’s little or not.