08
Aug
11

girl talk and baby penises, or, “get [me] to a nunnery, but quick pit stop to soap-wash my mouth, first….”

My linesister, Clara, is an ob-gyn.

She once told me that the act of child conception was the greatest miracle there is; that the female reproductive system is little more than a matrix-style labyrinth of an obstacle course, designed to ensure that only the strongest and most persistent of sperm reach their target.

Respectfully—

That’s a bunch of bullshit.

You want to know the greatest miracle there is?

Good sex.

I happen to know this for a fact, because I haven’t had any in a while.

Now, to be fair, I haven’t had any bad sex in a while, either. We don’t need to belabor the point, as it pains me to discuss it, and detracts from my underlying premise—

Which is—

Finding your way to good sex, is a miracle.

And as any good, flesh-rotting leper knows, the days preceding the arrival of the much-anticipated miracle can get pretty fuckin’ desperate.

In my own estimation, the devolution into forced celibacy has been very much like a breakup.

You think about the good times you had (when you were fucking).

You think about how you didn’t appreciate the good thing you had while you had it (ring-side seats at the Pleasuredome).

You wonder if you’ll ever have what you’ve lost, again (pillow-biting, back-scratching, knee-quivering scream fests).

And you rehash it, again and again, with your girlfriends, dissecting every facet of your trauma ad naseaum, hoping to make sense of some seemingly senseless thing, often, to no avail.

Which is where I was, Saturday night, posted up with Micah and Carrie, on a plush loveseat in a darkened corner of Eighteenth Street Lounge.

I patiently recounted for them the lonely planet saga of my vagina, my potential new crush, and my hopes of turning water into wine; conversation into fuck.

“Well, what’s the hold up,” asked Micah.

“Idunno,” I answered. “It’s been a while. I don’t want my first venture out to be horrible.”

Micah looked at me for a moment before responding. “Are you sure that’s it?”

I frowned. “ Yeah, why? What do you mean?”

“I just think that, underneath it all, you’re afraid you’ll really like him,” she offered. My friend Micah was the most beautifully, spectacular true-believer of a fucking optimist that ever lived.

“You’re sweet. No, no. I really am just worried about the sex being horrible.”

Micah rolled her eyes in defeat. “Fine. What could be so horrible?”

What I knew, for certain, was that the possibilities of penile ineptitude were limitless. “He could be quick. He could have minimal to failing stroke capacity. He could have a teeny tiny infant baby dick,” I ticked off in blunt, quick-fire succession.

I took a moment to consider whether men ever had similar concerns about women.

Carrie interrupted my reverie.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “I had a baby dick once. Swear to God, it was *this* big,” she said, using her fingers to indicate a length just short of a glue stick.

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed. “You did not!”

Carrie nodded her head in earnest. “Did too! Swear to God.”

“OhmyGodwhat’dyoudo?” rushed Micah.

“Howthehelldidhegetinyourbed?” I shot off, right behind her.

Carrie gave a resigned shrug. “I don’t know. He wasn’t really my type in the first place, but somehow we started making out. Then he was going down on me and it was cool. Next thing I know, we’re in the bed. But then I saw it. Swear to God, y’all. *This* big.” Carrie again, indicated the less than glue stick size with her index finger and thumb. I visibly shuddered.

“So……” pressed Micah. “What’d you do?”

“Girl, I picked a fight with him and he got mad, got up, and put his clothes on,” she said, casually.

I let out a riotous guffaw. “Wait, wait…wait. You didn’t sleep with him?”

Carrie looked at me as though some growth had affixed itself to my head. “*This* big. Seriously. What the fuck was I going to do with that? Girl, no.”

Micah was barely containing her giggles. “You couldn’t have at least finished him off? Not even out of pity?”

Carrie looked dumbfounded. “And how was I supposed to do that? What was there to do???” Carrie again set her fingers to show us the miniscule amount of space her guest’s baby penis could muster, then vertically jerked them back and forth as if shaking a mini-pez dispenser.

“You see!” I shouted. “THIS is what the hell I’m talking about. I can’t go out like that. THIS is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Girl, please,” Micah weighed in. “That dude I showed you, the other night. That’s over, and we didn’t even get that far.”

“He didn’t have a baby dick, too, did he?” I asked, genuine panic about to set in.

“No, he was straight. But he’s a liar. He lied about some old bullshit, and I’m done. I don’t have time for that mess. I didn’t do anything but dry-hump him anyway,” she answered calmly.

I looked at Micah for a moment, trying to assess whether she was shitting me.

She wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” I asked.

“I don’t know him like that. I can’t just be out here fucking just anybody. So we dry humped,” Micah said.

“And he let you do that?” I asked, trying desperately to hide the incredulity in my voice.”

“Girl, yeah. It feels good,” she asserted, confidently.

“Swear to God, Micah, I don’t even have any words for that, right now. I’m going to need a minute on that shit,” I said, attempting to stifle a giggle, and failing.

“This is a mess, “ I declared.

“Yeah, girl,” added Micah.

We’d all let out a collective sigh, lost in a myriad of our own thoughts, reclining into the darkness, when Carrie revealed, “I just want to be swept up, you know? Overwhelmed.”

“Me too,” offered Micah.

By some dick, I thought.

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8 Responses to “girl talk and baby penises, or, “get [me] to a nunnery, but quick pit stop to soap-wash my mouth, first….””


  1. 1 Anonymous
    August 8, 2011 at 4:05 pm

    irreverent!

  2. August 8, 2011 at 4:24 pm

    One of the best parts about being a man is that you don’t need anyone else’s opinion and needn’t consult any further than your own understanding if you have a sexual deficiency such a rapid-fuck, or baby peen. Men find out right away, usually the first time, if these debilitating conditions exist. He may be in denial but when a fair assessment is made, it sticks.

    Women on the other hand have their own anatomical deficiencies and men aren’t usually going to tell you that your vagina feels like sandpaper, ever. Men are content to keep smashing that dry box until it isn’t offered anymore. Maybe years later, a woman could be like “we dated for a year and how come we never got serious?”

    If you have enough sex, you are bound to run into someone that isn’t made for you.

  3. 3 Boondoc
    August 8, 2011 at 4:40 pm

    there is so much fuckshit going on in this post.

    1. do they actually make condoms that small? or do they just walk around with those single finger protectors cooks use when they nick their fingers?

    2. a rehash from twitter… i still need you to explain to me who these dudes are that are walking away with a big ass smiley face after getting a handy. i really hope these niggas are lying to yall talking about “nah it’s ok, i wasn’t ready to go all the way yet anyway” (i’m assuming that these men settling for rub and tugs still use high school vernacular being that that was the last time any of this shit was halfway acceptable) cause if they’re really running back to their boys talking about ” yoooooo she touched my pee pee” yall are fucking with the wrong niggers.

    3. lastly a dry hump might feel good to yall… i wouldn’t know, i haven’t participated in that shit since Brenda Walsh went to London, but uh… yeah that shit doesn’t feel good to us. i mean maybe if the dick was hanging out getting some air… but up to 4 layers of fabric plus the possibility of two metal zippers plus buttons? nah nigga. nah.

  4. 4 micka
    August 8, 2011 at 5:18 pm

    Hilarious!!!

  5. August 8, 2011 at 5:39 pm

    this was a great piece. I love the biblical and literary references in the midst of the sex discussion.

    no baby penises, but I’ve had at least one emotionally sexual toddler to contend with. he seemed fine until the sheets started flying, then stopped being a man and started acting like a sheltered kid caught watching porn

  6. August 8, 2011 at 8:38 pm

    oh wow this is hilarious.

    i don’t think men think about things like this at all before they first sleep with a woman. if the sex is bad then we wonder why we didn’t think about that in the first place. i would say that one of the things we think about is if her head will travel below our waistlines.

    dry humping though? i can’t remember the last time i did that. i’m sure i was still a virgin though.

  7. 7 NubianEmpress
    August 13, 2011 at 10:03 pm

    Girl…that baby D might have grown in to an adult. dont block ur blessings! lmao.

  8. January 17, 2012 at 8:04 pm

    I’m so with you on that last line. Smh. That is was hilarious!


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