Men and Their Weird Penis Obsession (My Personal Experience)

I thought long and hard before blogging about him.  I’ve been considering it for years, in fact. It’s a very private matter, and I don’t know if it’s appropriate to write about it online.

But, it’s been years, and there is no way he is reading this blog. Time has moved on.  Also, the story is very funny.

Allow me to preface this: I have never met a man who was not obsessed with his penis. Every man I’ve ever been with has been preoccupied with his cock. At work, I have been paid to humiliate men over their penises (or, alternately, to praise them).  I have been paid to watch men masturbate…FOR AN HOUR.

I myself, in contrast, do not think about my vagina unless I am using it in sex or masturbation or it has a yeast infection or UTI. Contemplation of it takes up very little thought in my brain.

That said, let me tell you the story of a boyfriend who was COMPLETELY NEUROTIC about his junk.

He was (is) otherwise a highly intelligent, accomplished man in a rarefied field. I wish I could tell you how we met, but that would be TMI. Cute–slightly overweight, but cute. Also, only three years older than myself.  I am almost never attracted to men in my age range.

I was still in grad school, and very impressed with how he did his job.

I asked him out via email.  The rest is history.  I can seduce any man who isn’t committed to his significant other. It’s part of my job. Also, men are easy.

He was also a very kind man. He never said a cross word to me, except to express anger at my being late a few times and worry about the fact I could imbibe a swimming pool of cocktails and still function, walking around.

I could have married this man, but we didn’t quite “click.”  Still, I cared about him very much.  He was also newly divorced–only one year out–and he was still in  a lot of pain.

SO, getting back to the moral of the story, I go to use the bathroom early in the relationship, and found Enzyte laying out on top of the toilet tank.

Okay, weird.

My primary concern was that a man with a huge brain who had a top-flight education could believe Enzyte could make his dick larger. If big-dick pills actually worked, every man would be huge. Every rational person knows it’s snake oil, just like big breast cream in the past.

Here’s the thing: there was nothing wrong with this man’s penis.  There was nothing for him to be insecure about. It was bigger than average–not enormous, but bigger than average–and it always worked right. Not that I discriminate against men with ED. I’ve dated them, happily.

Then, a few months into our 6-month romance, he starts to ask me about whether I’ve had lovers with bigger penises, and if I liked the sexual experience better.

“Your dick is bigger than average. If it was larger, it would make me sore,” I said.

“But how many have been larger?”

I became exasperated. “I am not going to catalog all of the penises I have seen. Yours is great. What’s the problem?”

He asked this over and over again.

A month later: “I became paranoid my wife was watching porn, and saw bigger cocks than mine.”

I wanted to bury my head under the pillow.

“If she’s watching porn, all she wants to do is get off in three minutes and turn it off. She’s not comparing your penis. She’s not even thinking of that! Jeez!”

She would not have married you if she found you inadequate!

THEN–here’s the kicker–I was sleeping over at his apartment and he had to wake up early to go to work.  I kept sleeping under the covers.

A few hours later I received a phone call. He asked me to get something important for his work out of a gray bag in the closet, and bring it to him, a few blocks away where he worked.

I obliged, of course. Always happy to help.

I opened his closet, and there were three grey bags.

I swear to God, I was not snooping.

I pulled out the first grey bag and opened …

…a penis pump.  I recognized it because I saw it in this movie:

I am not making fun of him. I never do that, unless a person is a complete asshole. I just didn’t understand.

I put the penis pump back in the bag.  I never said a word. I rummaged in the others until I found the tool he was looking for.

I was still dating the Surgeon, which ultimately caused the demise of the relationship.


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