Size matters?

Just that phrase is titillating. You see it on everything from billboard ads to irrelevant comments. It teases us and depresses us and sometimes strikes fear in us.

I have to say that I don’t believe size really matters. In the grand scheme of things, it is only a dick and to center too much of your life around it is not a wise decision. I became a little sad and concerned reading some of the posts from the younger guys that have fallen into a trap of having their self-confidence wrapped up in their penis as if it is the “measuring stick” of their self worth. Nothing could be further from the truth unless your head tends to hang a little lower than your penis because of it.

Size does matter.

It matters because a potential mate will sense it about you. Will sense it in the way you carry yourself, the manner in which you speak, and the way that you attack life in general, not by the bulge in your pants. Women are attracted by a courageousness of spirit, not a big dick. At least all the women I’ve met in my life are like that.

I have several friends who are massively hung yet they have drifted from one aimless relationship to another. Not always by their own choosing. Whatever benefits their giant member provided was not enough to hold onto what should have been important in their life.

I remember being 14 and at summer camp. We ate together, slept in the same cabin together and showered together. We had plenty of embarrassing moments together as well. Someone might be teased about having a morning boner, but not once do I remember anyone ridiculing another for its size.

Then one day on the last half our time at camp, a new camper arrived. He was forced to fit into a group that had already been established. He tried hard to be liked and became one of the guys pretty fast. Not long after he arrived, he confessed something to all of us as we sat around outside. He was ashamed of his penis and was confiding it in us so that maybe it would steel off any possible ridicule later. He was the only one who thought about it. I think most of us felt sorry for him. Looking back, I don’t know if it was because of the size of his dick or how it seemed to upset him. Later during a nightly shower I remember stealing a glance out of curiosity. He was right, his penis was almost infantile. It might grow later on, or it might not. But what stood out in my mind many years later was how it had affected him, enough for him to have to confess such an embarrassing fact in order to keep from being teased later.

The one thing I do remember is that no one commented anything about his penis and it never was an issue on how everyone accepted him.

This was not meant as pontificating, but as a gentle reminder to some of our younger members that seem a little devastated by what nature has given them. It isn’t what swings between your legs, but what is in your own heart that matters most. It isn’t the size of the lance the knight carries astride his white horse, but the knight himself.

Women know we are concerned with that size but that is our problem. Many will try to help us through it, some will use it against us, others will stand perplexed without understanding what it is that has us so obsessed. Except in the rarest of cases, it isn’t your small penis that is going to drive someone away.

“Size matters” is a bit of a joke. A media influenced poke in the side, a sideways wink towards what up to now we’ve hidden deep in our own little secret places. Suddenly, we’ve really begun to think about it because of all the attention its gotten. And with all that attention, then surely there HAS to be something to it all.