Confessions Piece, July 27 2024

“I don’t know what a normal sized dick looks like. To me they’re either really big or really small.“

And it’s not because i’ve only seen one or two, no I’ve seen my fair share, nor is it that I’m dick blind from having too many pass beneath my eyes, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. No it’s a secret third thing, it’s like some kind of syndrome. My perception is actually distorted, and whether someone’s cock looks big or small to me actually has nothing to do with what it really is; I think I’m seeing something other people can’t because, I’ve sometimes compared notes with my eskimo sisters and it’s not adding up.

I started to notice something was off when I met this really sexy guy. He was so hot, the way the girls acted around him you had to imagine he’d rocked more than a few of their worlds. He was always delivering these tough truths about love and contemporary relationships. All these “hard to swallow pills.” I have to be honest, it turned me on to be described as “at my peak, the hottest I’ll ever be, on the very edge of a long decline where the first thing to go would be the light in my eyes. It was soo hot, like staring down the barrel of a gun, another fantasy of mine I admit to few people. So it was really disappointing when i unzipped his fly and found, well, a very easy to swallow pill…

I remember my high school boyfriend. I remember sitting at the dinner table with his parents, catching his eye across the table, we were quietly scheming to go upstairs but he was so sweet, he didn’t want to leave them hanging after they’d made such a gorgeous spread for us. He was so tender, so caring, took on the weight of everyone’s feelings (i wanted to make a joke here about the sheer weight of an above-average penis but, according to reddit, i would have had to do this crazy calculation of cubic volume and the specific gravity of blood and I can’t bring myself to text him to get his exact measurements because he’s still healing from our split, and fuck it I can’t do math to save my life because I’m just a girl.) Anyway, we went our separate ways in college. He understood we both needed to find ourselves.

So I thought there was some sort of correspondence between this type kindness and a man’s “size” you know? Therefore I spent some time giving “nice guys” a chance, but I encountered problems there too. As I navigated shyly, hesitantly, i’d look up and see this cold glint in their eyes watching and waiting for me to fail the test and transform into another heartless bitch. I didn’t have to go any further to know what I’d find, and the times that I did my suspicions were confirmed.

Some of the sensitive poets and artists were the same way, i would have thought their emotional cup runneth over, and they’d be packing massively in that shocking way that many fragile-seeming, soft-spoken men are, but they were some of the smallest. As much time as they spent interpreting the behavior of others, i don’t think there was space in their hearts for anyone besides the many facets of their own personalities.

And then there was this time with this guy who wanted me to do stuff i didn’t want to and i told him i would rather go home, that really what i needed was some sleep and to be alone. It was like he didn’t hear me, and looking at him, it was like he couldn’t see me at all. There was just this blank requirement and i knew it wasn’t even about me anymore just the object of me and his own inarticulable fear that he only knew to turn into control. When he entered me I couldn’t even feel it he was so small. I knew it must have been because, in that moment, his heart would have fit on the head of a pin.

When I fall in love i think I’ll find that size doesn’t matter, that perception and affection grows to fit the space I open up for it. But if I have any choice in the matter, what I really want is a man with a big juicy heart, mmm with a pulsing, ropey aorta. Give me a massive, four-chambered heart, throbbing, full of blood and heavy as hell. I want to hold it. I want to feel it fill me up.