WHATEVER YOU DO….DON'T MARRY HIM!
Sometimes, it's so hard to see that your guy isn't the right guy
NICE GIRLS DON'T SAY ...
"SIZE MATTERS"
this HQ for a Chinese newspaper may be trying to make a point
FACT: Nice girls don’t say “size matters”
RATIONALE: If a woman divulges that the size of a man’s penis matters to her, it reveals that she is sexually experienced enough to admit connoisseurship (i.e. she’s a slut). And she might scare of future lovers who fear the stigma of keeping company with a self-admitted slut.
WHY THAT'S BULLSHIT: All sexual politics, throat clearing, and foot shuffling aside, let’s face facts. We all know size matters.
But before I can get into exactly why that’s the case, I have to make a confession. I have been trying to write this post for two weeks and have roughly six drafts floating around on my desktop. While I think the issue of penis size is fascinating (the fact that men find it even more fascinating than women is what makes it extra fascinating to me, but more on that later), I’m more intrigued by my inability to commit an opinion on the matter to paper. I’ve blithely written about my own experiences with drugs, dildos, glory-holes…you name it…but I couldn’t bring myself to fire off a few lines about the importance of penis size. Why? What could possibly stop me in my tracks?
In the privacy of my own mind, do I shrink from the knowledge that width is a hugely decisive factor in whether or not a gentleman friend gets a second invitation back to Casa Jones after his inaugural run? No. Do I care if anyone knows that I, like most women, am not so interested in a twelve inch penis that will inevitably introduce itself to my cervix in a way that guarantees a classic job-application rejection letter along the lines of “Thank you, but your services (cervixes?) are no longer required.”? No, I do not. Penis size is, in my world, standard locker room talk for the ladies. We all say essentially the same thing: width, good; length, please be reasonable; if you are lacking in either or both, please be inventive with whatever else you’ve got. Period. That’s all, folks.
So why did it take two weeks to write this? It boils down to a conversation I had with a guy friend who was brave enough to answer the size-question honestly. Here’s what he said:
“Unless you’re basically in the “holy shit” range, you’re gonna think about it. Me personally, I don’t think about it unless it’s brought up. And look, I wouldn’t want to be with a woman who hasn’t been with a number of people. Experience counts. But if she DOES talk about size and her latest greatest boyfriend is what you know she’s talking about, then you’re all like “what about me?” It’s hard not to compare, or not to imagine that she’s comparing. Also, if you’re really into a girl and you’re not sure about how she feels about you, the next thing for a guy to do is jump to penis size as a way of measuring his relative worth. Men will create this ideal lover, Brad Pitt with a 12-inch dick. Guys will equate a big penis to being a great lover. Which is not the case, of course. Because I’ve spoken to and been with some women who say that some guys with a huge dick think that’s all they need, which is, of course, totally ridiculous. All equipment and no technique add up to nothing, right? Anyway, when a woman talks about a big penis and you don’t think that’s what you’ve got, just a normal one, it can make you feel like you’ll never satisfy her. And that makes you feel impotent, so why try? You’re incomplete so what’s the point? It’s the quickest way to shut a guy down. If she’s thinking, “This guy is nice but he’s got a small cock”, you know you’re not in the game.”
WHOA!!!!!!
Not the hubris-filled or dismissive grunting response I expected. Of course I knew that men would have feelings on the matter. But I hadn’t wagered on them going so (excuse the pun) deep.
Of course, after my friend was so brave and honest and, from what I learned later, accurately representing what many other men think, I was forced to rethink my position on this subject. Originally, I thought, “Penis size matters primarily to women. This is so because we are the proud owners of a collection of nerve endings that can be properly and pleasurably stimulated if a penis of the right size and shape is allowed to say, “How you doing?” to them. I was wrong.
IN SUMMATION: Right or wrong, penis size seems to matter far more to men than to women. While a woman might care because she’d like a delicious sexual experience, men seem to by lugging huge issues of self-worth around in their boxer-briefs. And while it is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT to say that nice girls don’t say size matters because it makes them “sluts”, there actually may be a real reason for women not to announce that size matters at the drop of a hat.
Because when you’re dealing with the nutty and potentially emotionally scarred, sometimes it’s just nice to be….nice.
Didn’t see that coming, did you?
NICE GIRLS DON'T SAY ….
"YES, I THINK I'M GORGEOUS"
FACT: Nice girls NEVER admit it if they think they’re pretty.
RATIONALE: Because if you say you think you’re pretty (read: like yourself), you might make another female person feel bad, make others think you’re stuck up, come across as a bitch, disrupt an existing social pecking order, or be embarrassed because no one else agrees.
WHY THAT'S BULLSHIT: Look, I love fashion and beauty magazines as much as the next person. I watched The September Issue until I was seeing Grace Coddington in my dreams. I'll check out Allure every month to see if the perfect shade of red lipstick has FINALLY been created so I never again spend five hours in Sephora, smearing 19 versions of the same lipstick on the back of my hand. However, there is a statement that screams from the cover of more than one beauty rag every season that both cracks me up and makes me consider being institutionalized. Here it is: "Pretty Is In!"
Really?
This pronouncement is so absurd it's not remotely worth going into how stupid it is. Girls, teens and women walk around every day with the burden of beauty practically crushing them. It's a wonder no one has flipped out yet and just torched a newsstand when one of those covers hits the racks. And for those girls, teens and women who claim not to care about keeping up appearances, I'll wager they do. By not buying into traditional ideals of beauty, be it anything from eschewing mascara to leaving their mustaches firmly in place, those women are making a conscious statement. And are therefore adding their opinions to the public discourse on the subject, which of course invites response. Sorry ladies. No one's immune. Just when you think you're out…they drag you back in.
With all the focus on looking "good" or, even worse, "right", it would stand to reason that if some woman actually achieves the holy grail of being gorgeous she'd want to pipe up about it. And that's where the wheels fall off. Because if a woman does that, she runs the risk of being burned at the stake by a jury of her peers. If you prefer a more modern version of that punishment, she'll be unfriended, blocked, unfollowed and whispered about in study hall. Or at PTA meetings. Or at work. Take your pick, shunning isn't fun wherever it may take place.
I covered the reasons why this happens at the top of this post, so no need to rehash. But no matter whom I speak to about this subject, no matter what walk of life she comes from, the rules and fears and punishments are the same.
So, the take-away lesson from this social dynamic that starts on the schoolyard and gets carried into the rest of women’s lives is this: “If you’re happy about the way you look, i.e. you like yourself, shut up about it or you’ll wind up being the only one who holds that opinion.” It’s a lesson that, after years of affirmation, tends to lead women to the conclusion that life is easier to manage if you just don’t like yourself. At least not too much. (I know it's confusing. That's part of the problem.) Should you find yourself in the awkward position of having someone comment on your loveliness, God forbid you take the compliment gracefully. Everyone in earshot will think you agree! Be sure to deflect the compliment by raising your eyebrows in surprise, pointing at your chest and saying, “Who me? Oh please, that’s just ridiculous.” Because that’s what nice girls do.
IN SUMMATION: I’m sure this doesn’t come as a surprise, but my feelings on this subject fall somewhere between “You’ve got to be kidding” and “Fuck that”. And my inspiration is this: I have a friend who is 93 years old. She recently said, “When I turned 80, I finally realized how beautiful I am. I’m so glad I’ve gotten to enjoy it, but I wish I hadn’t waited.” It's fabulous that she's had, so far, thirteen years of loving and admiring herself. I'd like to shoot for the next fifty so I can at least catch up to her. How about you?
NICE GIRLS DON'T SAY THAT: The Blog Begins
This blog is a direct result of having written and published the book KLONOPIN LUNCH, and the responses that it got. Which were great. Some people loved it, some hated it. Some people loved me, others...well...not so much. The point is that nobody was lukewarm about it, and who can blame them? I put my dirty linen out on the front lawn (by writing a book about my extra-marital affair that ended the marriage) and NOT commenting on its presence, and potentially disturbing presence at that, would be weird, right? And if I didn't want a reaction I wouldn't have published it. So, all's fair.
But the most interesting part of the process for me was realizing that what readers were really responding to was that a woman decided to tell the unvarnished, raw, ugly, funny and unapologetic truth. Because....wait for it.....NICE GIRLS DON'T SAY THAT!
We're all brought up to speak a certain way, only about certain things, not to speak about certain other things, and definitely don't even THINK about a whole bunch of other stuff. And that didn't sit too well with me. Why not talk about what we're not supposed to? What will happen? Will men be horrified, shrivel up and die in our presence? Will aliens invade the planet with Mars Attacks ray guns, turning us to radioactive dust where we stand? Will we be subjected to endless Honey Boo-Boo marathons until we just give in and shut up again? These do not seem like likely outcomes.
So I am embarking on a journey, quest, investigation, whatever you want to call it, to find out what American women are not saying. The research will begin right here, in New York City, and eventually take me to parts unknown across the country. As I meet women (and men) with jobs, backgrounds, educations and families of all different shapes and sizes, I'll report back with what I hear. And as the picture of who the American woman is and what her voice sounds like comes together, you'll be the first to know.