“I heard that you is Tiny Tim down there,” my girlfriend’s female cousin said to me.
I already knew she was talking about my “tool” because of the way she said those words.
I’ll be honest as hell. That shit caught me off guard like a BIG DOG! But it sure as shit didn’t shock me. I already knew that my wiener made a better tater tot than it did a footlong!
The “Tiny Tim” comment was made eons ago; back in 1998 when I was a 21-year old black guy dating an 18-year old white woman, I’ll call her B. For the record, I’m still a black guy but either unfortunately or happily, I’m far beyond 21.
There has been a sizable debate since the beginning of time about the importance of a guy’s dick…I mean, penis size.
The famous question, “does size matter?” is about as ambiguous as the location of O.J.’s murder knife.
What do these people mean when they say “matter?” Because if their intended meaning is “can a guy pleasure a woman with just any size dick?” then I would say hell the fuck yeah.
But the caveat would be that he wouldn’t have to necessarily do it with his actual tool.
A few months before the “Tiny Tim” comment, my other girlfriend’s friend was on the phone with me, roasting me like a batch of red potatoes over an open fire.
She roasted me so bad that she’s the reason for my current Wesley Snipes skin tone!
I’m being goofy, but she obviously took her cues from my girlfriend, I’ll just call her K. She had been my girl for a little over a year and she and I had fucked a lot in that time.
Ironically, K was actually pregnant at the time of the roasting session. K herself never said a word about the portability of my wiener.
Instead, I heard her giggling up a storm in the background after her friend landed another verbal jab to my stumbling self-esteem.
The funny thing is, during that point in history, I had two different girlfriends at the same damn time and the very idea that my miniature dick was being ridiculed was actually a symbolic ridicule of themselves.
They had their choice of many guys that they could have fucked around with. But they chose me. Hell, it doesn’t even matter if they were cheating on me because I was still one of the people getting to “play in their sandbox.”
Plus, ya know, I was doin’ both of ‘em.
Size does not matter.
I will say it again for the people in the back.
Size does not matter.
In the almost 23 years since these situations took place, I have acquired the equivalent of a Ph.D in the area of “Dickology.” Because anytime I try to convince myself that size actually matters, I am faced with my own personal history and certain other stories and anecdotes that won’t allow it to be true.
Take the mentioned situations for example. Why were those young women having sex with a guy with a little dick in the first place?
Either they couldn’t get anyone else or they liked something else about me that enabled them to “deal” with the little dick, or, they were just saying it to try to hurt my feelings.
This is what I know for a fact: both women had zero problems getting guys to fuck them. That is an automatic disqualification as a potential reason.
K had been with guys before I had even lost my own virginity and others wanted her even as we dated. I knew of two for sure.
B had also began her sex life before meeting me. She had been fucking a guy who she said had 12 inches.
So recognize the dick size in these Karl Kani jeans, I’m in 13’s, know what I mean? — The Notorious B.I.G.
I can almost guarantee that they fucked me because they liked my personality and I presented myself well. I always smelled good, wore decent clothes and had a distinctive “cool” style.
I was great at holding interesting conversations and I have always been highly skilled at making anyone laugh. All of that on top of the other sexual things that I actually excelled at. I was a master of all things related to the mouth, and dispensing pleasure that way was always obvious.
Whenever I gave out my “oral exam,” these broads were gyrating their hips better than 1968 Elvis and writhing uncontrollably like that possessed bitch in The Exorcist!
So even if someone mentions all that and uses it as “proof” that it wasn’t “the dick” that they liked so size does matter, I would argue that no it doesn’t. That’s because one of the reasons that it doesn’t matter is because other things factor into pleasure and attraction, therefore no single thing actually matters.
It was very telling that both women were very insecure of each other.
They knew about each other, but I denied that I was gettin’ loose with the other. Why would they be worried? “Tiny Tim” was packing a Vienna sausage in his trousers!
A decade later, in 2008, a different young woman ridiculed my wiener to someone behind my back. I couldn’t help but laugh at that because we had gotten down and dirty so many times.
She definitely had her pick of the litter, so why bark up my tree?
What I am about to say is not to brag. It is just to give some perspective on this topic for any guy out here who is sitting there ashamed of his micro-rod.
In 24 years of being sexually active, I have had four different women desperately want to marry me. One woman bought me a sports car for my birthday one year. Many of them have put their face…where the sun don’t shine a truckload of times.
Which always curled my toes!
They have paid my rent, paid my bills, bought me very expensive things, cooked for me, catered to me, cried over me and in some cases, trashed their own lives to help me.
The entire time, I have had that teeny tiny tool in my trousers.
I know lots of guys with Major League Baseball bats in their boxers and even they haven’t experienced anywhere near the spoils as I have with women.
The best thing about having a miniscule dick is the fact that us guys had nothing to do with it! The guys with the enormous ones had nothing to do with theirs either.
My grandmother told me many years ago, “one monkey don’t stop no show.”
That applies to everything, but in this instance, this world is so overflowing with women with all types of tastes, sensibilities, desires, fetishes, preferences that every guy…hell, every person will always find a “buyer.”
So, if the size of our wood, big or small, defines us as a person, we have a bigger problem.
My “mini me” has served me well. These women will jump on that little shit and bring us to our own quivering climax if she digs our vibe.
But we might need to “french the kitty” to square things afterwards!