The Phallusy, A Penis in Five Parts: Part Five: Enough Is Enough
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This makes me laugh. I love the truth in it.
Question: Why do men nickname their penises?
Answer: Because they don’t want a complete stranger making all their decisions for them.
Do I wish I was bigger? Sure. But I want to get over that. Even more I want to get to where I know I am already more than enough. And that’s the work I’ve been doing. That’s the truth that I am rewiring in my brain. And I’m getting there.
A big part of this recovery and rewiring of my brain has been to work hard to eliminate porn. I haven’t watched a shitload of porn, but I’ve watched enough to feel inadequate. As my Dr. Harris character said on Parks & Rec., “I was distracted… by the largest penis I have ever seen.” That’s partly why I started looking for porn without men, or with “normal” men as opposed to Donkey Kong, which is most all of the men in porn. And I’ve not watched any porn for quite awhile now. As I tell my boys, it can be exciting, but it’s not real. However, the problems it can cause are real.
In my preferred women-only soft porn I used to watch, I could see that, one, the women weren’t being as objectified, and two, that these women were reaching great orgasms often without anything but their own hands or a simple vibrator. Believe it or not, I watched to learn. I wanted to know how to please a partner. And, yeah sure, I usually got off. But, I was smarter for it.
I found that if you stripped all the accessories away, all the big dicks and dildos and vibrators and mechanical bulls and were just left with two healthy normal average people coming together (and yes, occasionally cumming together)… what gets them off? Beyond a certain amount of friction… It’s connection. Give and take. Using their full minds and bodies to express their desire for the other person.
Lovemaking for men has got to be more than just about the penis. What about what my mouth could do, my tongue, my lips, and my fingers? My entire body? Even more, what my heart and soul could do. That not size, but compassion and creativity and imagination and self-acceptance are what matters.
I had to challenge my beliefs. I thought to ask,
“What makes lovemaking great?”
And with that question in hand, I went to the pros.
I was fortunate to talk with a couple of sex workers, one of them a fairly high end female escort, Naughty Nashville (though I’m pretty sure not her actual name. I called her Nash). I’ve learned that people will talk with you about most anything if you don’t judge them.
At 40, she was self-employed and had been in “the business” for a good while. Nash said that size meant nothing to her, and she’d been with all variety of colors, shapes, and sizes. And while some women may like a large penis, many women don’t because of the discomfort, both vaginally and orally. I’d never even considered that guys with large penises might have issues as well. She said what made it for her was if the person was really present, really in the moment with her. That made for great sex!
She also said, and other women not in the sex trade have said the same, that women who have had children worry about being able to satisfy a man because delivering a five to eleven pound baby package through what had always been a small mail slot forever changes things. Even moreso with each successive delivery.
As one very funny mom friend put it, what was once a cozy little runway, really only made for a Cessna or similar single engine aircraft, is now a spralling tarmac all set for an Airbus A380! Even on Kegel Airlines, we’re hardly going to know that private plane even came in for a landing.
And these women also want their partners to know that their clitoris is right there up front like a doorbell. It’s nice to have the guest come inside, but there’s a lot that can happen right there on the front porch! And don’t forget, it’s polite to ring the bell before you enter. Over and over again! In fact, the house is kind of a mess, why don’t you just stay on the porch and keep playing with the doorbell! It’s a great place to deliver a package until the lady of the house is ready to come out and bring it inside. Ring her Bell! Ring it, ring it, ring it!
But before you do, see the person and let them see you.
There’s only one thing that’s made a lasting difference, that I had to discover on my own. The only thing I’ve found that has improved my phallus?
My brain. The big head.
I can’t change the little head, so I’m changing the big head. I’m rewiring my brain in regards to how I view my body. Trying to show myself the same grace I show others. I have always found many different shapes and sizes of others’ bodies to be beautiful. Tall, short, fat, thin, firm, not-so-firm, flat, busty, dark-skinned, light-skinned, old, young, wrinkled, taut. Long hair, short hair, straight hair, curly/kinky hair, thinning hair, no hair, brown eyes, black eyes, blue, green, hazel, or amber eyes, smooth skin, rough skin, abled or disabled.
And do you know what made all of them ultimately beautiful and/or desirable?
The person. The spirit or soul inside that body.
That’s the gift we bring to others. The body that we spend so much time and energy on is just the wrapping. And yet, it is intimately connected to our spirit, our soul, our mind. One cannot be a whole living creature, one without the other. I can’t divorce the two. As one suffers, so the other. As one thrives, they both thrive.
I’m learning to love and accept and even celebrate my body. To hate and judge it is to abuse it. It’s taking the Golden Rule a step further. Not only to treat others as you would have them treat you, but to treat yourself as you would have others treat you! To love and care for myself in the same way I’d want others to love and care for me. Isn’t that a big part of what makes a relationship and sex great? A healthy view of our own bodies and not seeing ourselves as just our body? Also knowing that as I judge myself, so I judge others.
And that screws everybody.
I am working my ass off mentally and emotionally, and I am slowly overcoming these thoughts of being less than, of needing to be other than who I am. I’m learning that who I am is more than enough. That’s what I’m telling myself and what I’m hearing from others. That who I am, every bit, every measure of me, every molecule that makes me me, is what adds up to make me the person, the father, the friend, the partner, the lover that I am. That a different, larger penis wouldn’t change that one iota. Why shouldn’t that be true?
I, thank God, still have a healthy functioning perfectly capable penis. I think it’s even quite attractive. Good skin tone, no European turtleneck, but kind of a Nehru-collar that grows with me and a nice helmet. It can go casual or dress up for a nice night out. A good solid stand-at-attention or a relaxed parade-rest.
I’m coming to “grips” with my package (pun intended), by setting aside my fear and talking about it with a therapist and, over the last few years, some very dear women and even a few men. I’m also doing this through meditation and prayer. I’m doing this through regular and nearly naked exercise (I’m a swimmer).
I am the person I should be. You are the person you should be. We are the people we were created to be. Sure, maybe we could use some more time enjoying the outdoors or at the gym. Get up off the couch, play with the dog, go for a walk. We can always improve on what we’ve got, if that’s what will keep us healthy and make us happy, but it ain’t about the “package”. Not the lower case “package”.
It’s about the upper case “Whole Package”. In the broader larger sense of our whole bodies, whole minds, whole selves. The greatest thing we can bring to the table (or the floor, bed, kitchen counter, coat closet at the company Christmas party, private stretch of beach on a starry night…
or wherever) is our entire selves.
And I know I can tell myself that every day, a hundred times a day, and I’ll still on occasion struggle with my own body-shaming. But, I’ve never been told by any woman ever that I wasn’t enough. Far from it. That they wanted me to be anything more than I was. Anything other than who I am. And if you’ve ever been told that you weren’t enough, you’re with the wrong person. And it’s not about you.
What our partners want most is connection. The connection that makes it fun and exciting. That the more we can safely bare our souls, the more joy and thrill there can be when we bare our bodies. And that connection makes your and your partner’s bodies even more beautiful. And all that other crap just totally screws with good lovemaking.
All the body-shaming messages, I choose not listen to them anymore. And I have to keep choosing not to listen to them. Instead, I believe that I am who I’m supposed to be. That I was knit together in my mother’s womb just the way I was meant to be and that we are all fearfully and wonderfully made.
I’ve learned in relationship that none of the shape and size shit matters. It’s the soul. The spirit. The creative and curious, the adventurous and playful, the sensitive and caring and present among us that are the real lovers that we all want to be, and want to be with.
And certainly too, yes, we should also have good hygiene. That goes without saying. And perhaps a cool accent. Yes, that would be nice. But not French. I know it’s a stereotype, but I don’t think the French bathe enough. I know that doesn’t affect their accent, but still.
Go with Ukrainian. It’s actually a very sexy sounding language.
Or maybe just Sam Elliott’s voice. Yeah. If I had Sam Elliott’s voice. That couldn’t hurt. That would be killer.
Sam Elliott’s Ukrainian accented voice, clean body, minty breath, and good listening matters. Size? Not so much.
Just as we are is enough.
You are enough. I am enough.
And enough matters.
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Enough Is Enough is the final in a five essay series, The Phallusy: A Penis in Five Parts, actor Cooper Thornton’s lifelong journey to accept, love, and celebrate every bit of himself. The WHOLE Package, especially including the “package” part of the Package.
Thanks for reading. In many of my essays I mention or go into depth about my journey with depression. It’s helped me to know that I’m not alone. If you or someone you know struggles with depression, talk about it. Help remove the stigma. You can call any one of the hotlines out there or visit a very helpful site like youfeellikeshit.com. Please know you deserve care and love and that even though it seems there is no light at the end of the tunnel, the darkness will pass.