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Sorrow is what I feel for the man who has had the privilege of placing his penis inside of the woman he perceives to be the girl of his dreams, and there is nothing there for him to touch, run, stroke except the small amounts of air escaping. Have I been there? When I was 13.
But let’s not be that minister that preaches to the choir here. We know how important it is for the dick to press against the g-spot effortlessly sometimes. We know how important it is for a woman to be able to grab the phone once you leave to let her friends know she won’t be attending “girls night out” because she can’t walk. This has been drilled into our heads by those friends we made in elementary school who swore they lost their virginity at age 8. Those lies accompany their “my dick is big” lie. We’re adults now, and no one is bragging on losing their virginity at this age. But my dick is big.
I’ve spent my life networking, shaking hands, making toasts, dancing with beautiful women who’ve come from all over the world to my table just to hear me speak. I’ve entered into contracts with powerful men because they recognized an equal or greater amount of power within me. These things came easy to me. Just as easy as going into the store on a Sunday afternoon in mesh basketball shorts with no supportive underwear. The confidence pours from me like the smell of a grocery store cologne.
The bigger the dick, the higher the confidence in the owner. The higher the confidence in the owner, the more risks he is willing to take, hands he’s willing to shake, women (or men), he’s willing to ask out for a round of drinks at the local eatery where he’ll stare into their eyes and make them guess everything that’s on his mind.
In a recent conversation with a med student about a patient who essentially lost his penis to his pride, I was asked if I could live without my penis. Laughs were shared after the damning words I chose to share in response to such an idiotic question. I am in love with my big ego. I enjoy being that guy at a brunch with 30 others who can walk between tables and flirt with all the women at each table because my confidence allows me to do that. They notice the heart I wear on my face after they notice the bulge I wear around my zipper.
So while the small penis may be able to reach the g-spot and play its role in the production of sometimes beautiful children, it will not lend hand to many achievements of its master. Like with the blind man who can hear a hummingbird flap its wings 20 yards away, another ability within the small penis man will become stronger if he’s lucky.
So I raise my glass in a toast. To those who can stand in a busy intersection in a Speedo and smile.