The Biggest Myths about Dick Size - Part 2

Does size matter?

You can read part 1 of the 3 Biggest Myths about Dick Size here

Myth 3: The bigger, always, the better

Or so they say. I’ve got a relatively big penis, apparently, and it very nearly ruined my life.

Relative to its length that is. These trendy orifices just never seemed anywhere near as holey as people made out. I always seemed to be doing more harm than good. Years of failing to fit a square peg into a round hole left me pretty messed up. 

The fact that I’ve managed to get nothing but crippling insecurity out of a big ol’ dick really nails my blundering personal philosophy. I mean that is just bloody typical, isn’t it. 

Much to my chagrin, I somehow didn’t even realise I have a fat dong. Even the snugness of XL condoms wasn’t enough for me to suspect a thing. Huh, well that’s weird, I’ve got a small penis. So, my dick energy has always taken the shape of my flaccid tiddler.

Rule 3: No es el tamaño del perro en la pelea, es el tamaño de la pelea en el perro

If the rolling punchline that is my groin tells us anything, it’s this: a bigger penis doesn’t unriddle the meaning of life. Nor is a slightly more discrete dinkle the end of a sex life before it begins.

There’s a dick and a vagina out there for everyone. Chickzzz always brand it a “vibe kill” when I get my travel callipers out, but I’m pretty sure vaginas vary in size too. Some people want shade-giving schlongs, while others find them plain hazardous. 

Young boys are led to believe all women are ravenous size queens scavenging the charred surface of the planet for prize cucumbers. In the real world, a dick is just one, sometimes, tiny part of a person. If somebody loves who you are, it’s really not going to matter to them.

Another thing, nobody’s ever called off sex at the reveal of a plucky little pecker. As a kid, I was sure that’s how it worked. Hmm yeah, I think we’re done here.

Does size matter? No doubt it can definitely help. I’ve heard gal pals exchanging astonished notes on one of those dongs of local legend. Word of which travels as far and wide as it penetrates.

To wheel out the least effusive description of the female orgasm, there’s more than one way to get the job done. As my redwood stump grows and shows: it is just as important how you use it. 

Afterword

I remember the day well, the day I found my calling in life. Two young boys were staring at my bare penis in the toilets of a Spanish school.

Let the record show, I was just minding my own business - a one-man drainage business - and business was as stop-start as ever. When, in a clear breach of urinal code, a giggling little peeping Tomás appeared either side of me. 

Next, these waist-height scamps started wiggling their pinky fingers up at me. “Well, what are you fucking packing then, mate?” I felt like saying, but obviously didn’t - the language barrier holding me back. And for the love of god, in this temperament climate, at least give me a toddler’s forefinger.

As I stood there, pissing, with two kindergartners snickering at my manhood, I realised this is really kinda fucked up. Not for me, I exhausted my shame years ago, but for them. These insecurities shouldn’t even be on a little kid’s radar. 

Someone needs to take it upon themselves to educate these misguided young men. If not for the constraints of European law*, I would have pulled up my trousers and shared three proverbs in piecemeal español:

Rule 1: You never judge a racehorse while it’s grazing in the paddocks

Rule 2: There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Rule 3: It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. 

Any dads out there, I suggest you take a deep breath and let your sons know it’s really not worth their worry. Trap them in a car ride, avoid the rearview mirror and let’s dispel these myths once and for all. 

*Thanks, Brussels!