September 25, 2017

Weird Boobs and Little Wieners

Get your giggles out now and then let’s jump in. I want to really discuss a very sensitive (and taboo) subject, and yes I am choosing to write this from a purely heterosexual perspective for discussion’s sake. You’re big enough to apply it to your own sexuality if that sexuality is fabulously different.

The topic to discuss… Boobs and wieners. And even more specifically, weird boobs and little wieners.

Recently I sat across from a woman who I had thought was so beautiful only moments before. It was our first date.

She had these fantastic and warm eyes that flickered between blue and hazel depending on the angle of the light. Her cute little button nose and her high soft cheeks had finally abandoned the red hues brought to the surface by the thick winter wind outside.

Upon meeting, the conversation had almost immediately elevated to this rare level of communicative excellence. She was one of those people with whom I shared almost too much similar history and life experience.

I found her to be very pretty when we first met. By the time she decided to tell me about her breasts, I thought she was beyond stunning. Great conversation has a way of doing that to people, I suppose.

Then, out of nowhere, she made sure to educate me as to how unbeautiful she was, at least underneath her clothes.

Maybe it was because her mind had wandered to the possibility of future intimacy. Maybe it was because she needed reassurance that I wasn’t an arrogant and judgmental type who needed a perfect air-brushed woman. Maybe it was because she just hated her boobs and wanted everyone to know. I don’t know. I just know that she found a segue into it (a joke she or I made, I can’t remember who) and started to tell me how awful, and tiny, and misshaped her breasts were. She made sure to mention the horrid effects of breastfeeding and age as she painted a Picassoesque picture for me.

The way she went on was a level that I would consider somewhere below disenchanting.

Where moments before I was so comfortable and excited about this new wonderful human sitting in front of me, I now felt like I was drudging through the fine print of an exciting time share opportunity that was becoming less appealing by the second.

I don’t know what it was about this woman specifically. I’ve been on dates with plenty of women who let me know in no uncertain terms how imperfect their breasts are and none of them bothered me the way this particular date did. I think it was because I was liking her so much and the thought of a romp in the bedroom was the last thing on my mind. Out of nowhere, and on a first date I was led to believe that if her bra ever came off with me, two shriveled and aged naval oranges would unroll themselves and come flopping to the floor in front of me.

It was amazing the level of detail that came spilling out of her mouth, almost as if it was doing so against her will.

Finally I cut her off, not knowing what I was going to say.

What came out really surprised me.

I looked her dead in the eyes. “I have a tiny penis.”

“Huh?” she said, somewhat shocked.

“Oh, it’s ridiculously tiny. Like a little smokie, even at full erection. It’s shriveled and hangs off to the right. Ugliest damned thing you ever saw. You’ll be holding your lunch down if you ever see it.”

“Are you serious right now?”

I sure was acting serious.

I just looked at her and said, “I bet you’re so much more attracted to me now than you were a minute ago, huh.”

She just shook her head and laughed. “I get it,” she said uncomfortably. “But are you being serious? Because I think you’re joking but I can’t tell.”

I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

“Look,” I told her. “I never asked about your boobs. I never even thought about them. That’s the truth.” She looked at me with a look that said yeah right, you’re a dude. I just continued like I didn’t notice. “Your breasts, if you ever choose to show them to anyone, are a gift. It doesn’t matter what they look like, they’re a gift to that other person. They’re your breasts for crying out loud. And they’re beautiful, I guarantee it. Don’t ever treat them like they’re a commodity.”

Well, I suppose anybody could have fed her a line like that to shut her up and get her to feel comfortable when and if it ever did come time to start ripping each other’s clothes off with wild abandon. But I didn’t really care about that. Something suddenly wasn’t sitting right with me about women in this day and age, and their concern of their breasts in general.

I continued word vomiting my perspective all over her because I seem to have some sort of disease that won’t let me keep my over-boiling thoughts to myself. I won’t quote the dialogue, but my thoughts and our subsequent discussion went along the lines of something like this.

Men are obsessed with the size of their penises for some reason.

Women are obsessed with the shape and size of their breasts for some reason.

If a guy doesn’t have a porn-worthy penis, he often thinks every girl is going to judge him harshly for it.

If a girl doesn’t have porn-worthy breasts, she often thinks every guy is going to judge her harshly for it.

But I don’t think that’s true at all. Will there be those people in the world who always have to have some perfect magazine-quality naked someone de-clothing across from them? Absolutely. But they’re also the jerks who throw a ten dollar bill on the bed and tell their new visitor to catch a cab home. They’re not the kind of people who you or I will generally ever be with.

No, we tend to all end up with everyday ordinary people.

And here’s the truth about everyday ordinary people.

If over time, I am with ten different women who take their shirts off, one or two of them might actually have epically fantastic porn-quality breasts. The rest are just, well, normal. Meaning that they cover just about every shape and size. Some have been nursed on. Some aren’t perfectly symmetrical. Some are tiny. Some are huge. Some have little nipples. Some have large nipples. Yes, breasts are as extremely different as the women they are attached to.

And also… If over time, a woman is with ten different men who take their pants off, one or two of them might actually have an epically fantastic porn-quality penis. The rest are just, well, normal. Meaning that they come in any shape and they come in every different girth and angle. Some are the American average of 5.5” long. Some are the French average of 7” long. Some are more the average of the countries with smaller penises. Yes, penises are as different as the men they are attached to.

And here is some more truth.

Women need to understand how the average man views breasts.

Men need to understand how the average woman views penises.

And I’m not just making this up. Since having this conversation, I have polled almost all my closest friends, and I am convinced that the following is true for the average everyday human being. You know… you and me.

Here’s the truth about men and breasts. If a woman opens her bra and a pair of fantastic porn-quality boobs flops out (big or small, depending on the preference), a lot of men love it. Most men will love it. And men are allowed to love it. Porn quality breasts are amazing. There is nothing wrong with loving them when we encounter them. It’s an exhilarating experience for many of us on the rare occasion when we do experience them.

Here’s another truth about men and breasts. If a woman opens her bra and any other type of breasts flop out (which is most of the time), any size, and shape, and anything with two nipples attached, we love it. They are mysterious and wonderful and fun and beautiful to us no matter what they look like. And, it’s pretty much always an exhilarating experience for us. EVEN WHEN THEY DON’T LOOK EXACTLY LIKE THE BOOBS IN PORN.

And, here’s the truth about women and penises. If a man’s pants come off and a big fantastic porn-quality wiener flops out, a lot of women love it. Most women will love it. And they are allowed to love it. Porn quality penises are probably pretty fun and amazing. There is nothing wrong with loving them when they encounter them. It’s an exhilarating experience for many women on the rare occasion when they experience them.

Here’s another truth about women and penises. If a man opens his pants and any other type of penis flops out (which is most of the time), any size, shape, or anything else attached to a pair of tenders (as my son so calls a man’s testicles), women love it. Penises are mysterious and wonderful and fun and exciting to them (sorry fellas, usually they’re not classified as beautiful) no matter what they look like. And, it’s pretty much always an exhilarating experience for them. EVEN WHEN THEY DON’T LOOK EXACTLY LIKE THE WIENERS IN PORN. 

Why? How? WHAT?!

Why are non-porn-quality boobs and non-porn-quality penises still fun, and exciting, and exhilarating? How is this possible in this day and age?

Because, my insecure friends, they are boobs and they are wieners! They are breasts!!!! They are penises!!!! They are awesome!!!! They’re fun to have touched, and they’re fun to touch. It’s always been that way, it always will be that way.

Why can’t we finally somehow understand that women obsess far more about their breasts than men ever will, and men obsess far more about their penises than women ever will?!

But more than that, breasts and penises are something else very important that we seem to have forgotten.

They are a special part of us. And they are gifts. They are gifts that each of us chooses to give to whomever we choose to share them with.

Part of the great insecurity that exists in this day and age is that we have lost sight of just what a gift those areas beneath our clothes really are. Instead, we treat those parts of our bodies like they are a public offering for the merciless judgments of others. We treat them like they are objects being laid side by side on tables at flea markets, compared next to all the other breasts and penises (and let’s be honest, vaginas too) of the world.

Sexuality has become such an open and common and even public thing that we are actually starting to believe that everybody wants the exact same thing.

And we are starting to believe that everyone wants what they see in porn, which is perfect breasts and giant penises. We somehow believe that just because people find perfect breasts or large penises to be fun or noteworthy, that it’s all they will ever want and that it’s all they will ever actually appreciate.

We grow to hate the very parts of our bodies that have always been the most cherished in generations past.

We brace ourselves for our partners to be disappointed when they first see us without clothes on. We warn them for crying out loud!

My friends, we are doing it all wrong.

What we have under our clothes is a gift, damn it, and we need to treat it as such, no matter what genetics we happened to be born into.

We need to get things in perspective and be okay with the fact that yes, other people know what giant penises and perfect breasts look like, and yes, they enjoy the hell out of them when they do encounter them. But we also need to learn to believe again that our penises and our breasts and our vaginas are still just as important and still just as cherished and still just as appreciated when it comes down to it.

We need to not mentally prepare the person we are with for the awful and grotesque moment they are about to suffer through with our naked bodies. We need to not describe the less than porn-like experience they will eventually have so that they’re mentally prepared when they do have it.

We need to not obsess over the partners our new partners have had in the past and whether they were better or worse. Bigger or smaller. More endowed or perfectly shaped.

Who cares?! Even if they had the most epically endowed partner ever… WHO CARES?! They are not here now. They are nothing but part of a highlight reel. No big deal.

Your breasts. Your penis. Your body. Your skin. Your curves. Your everything.

It’s all amazing. I don’t care who you are.

And my advice is, if you’re with someone who really would look at you in all of your unique genetic perfection, and who would really take your gift and spit on it by wanting something else, put your clothes back on and tell them to get the hell out. It’s your gift to give. It’s your gift to take away. And nobody deserves it who doesn’t understand that. Nobody deserves it who isn’t enchanted, and excited, and fascinated by your gift.

As for me, maybe you’re wondering if I was being honest with my date. Do I have a ridiculously tiny penis? Was I being facetious to prove a point? Do I actually have a marvelous porn-quality penis? Well, my gift is actually none of your business and the only way you’ll ever find out is to find your way into my life and to be the kind of person who wouldn’t care at all anyway.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

PS. I would love your comments on today’s post. I’d love your blatant honesty and perspective. Should be a fun one to discuss. Do you agree? Do you disagree? What do you think has caused such an obsession with breasts and penises and everything else below the neck?

And yes… you may giggle now. We made it to the end.