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Male Enhancement

by Guest Blogger: Big Joda

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I played football and basketball in high school and basketball in college. I was good, and this made it hard when we lost a game. In fact, the only thing worse than losing a game was taking a team shower after losing a game. This was my first exposure to the size of another guy’s penis. For a guy who doesn’t like to lose this was a humbling experience indeed. It was the first taste – pardon the expression – I ever got of the manifest fallacy of Lincoln’s basic philosophy: All men are NOT created equal.

It was a few years before I realized that my shower-shriveled hobo’s cigar was not a fair measure of my manhood. I figured everyone lived by the same rule of proportion, a sort of he who liveth by the shriveled sword, envied the unshriveled sword. That is, if you were small before the rush of blood found its home in the corpora cavernosa, you were equally small afterwards.

Boy was I wrong!

Every guy wants a bigger wang. It doesn’t matter how big or small you are, you always want more. We do this because we are capitalists, and we live in a society where greed is good, bigger is better, and he who dies with the most toys wins. There is an old saying among police, “This is my weapon, this is my gun; one is for pleasure and one is for fun.” Show me one toy in the entirety of this small planet that has enjoyed more attention from guys than their own penises and you have a phenomenon that will be the envy of Mattel, Hasbro and every other toymaker in the industrialized world.

But there is more to it. As men we are given limited tools to try and crack the perpetual enigma that is the female member of our species. Hairy backs, sagging balls, yellow teeth, smelly armpits… really, what do we have to offer a woman who has been on guard against the relentless efforts of men to separate her from her virtue since her first class in junior high? But pull down your pants and whip out an eleven-inch monster and suddenly YOU as a guy become the focus, an anatomical curiosity she simply has to learn more about and, of course, experience. Watch the scene from Boogie Nights where Dirk Diggler first exposes himself to Roller Girl and note the wide-eyed face of momentary bewilderment. That is the expression every guy craves when he drops his drawers in front of a prospective lover. ‘I can’t recite poetry and don’t make much money but what do you think of this?!’

I had limited experience with women and tremendous insecurity about the size of my worth so like so many others I decided some years ago to invest in one of those herbal enhancements regimens designed to increase the size of my penis. This was the bellwether of these companies and in order to get the magical pills, I had to surrender my credit card number and agree to at least 60 days worth of pills and ‘exercises.’ Since my satisfaction was guaranteed and my very power as a man was at stake, I willingly agreed. The pills themselves were bland, horse-sized chunks of what looked like pressed-wheat. But the exercises were something I could really get into. These consisted of gently pulling on the penis for 10 to 15 minutes per day. I quickly discovered that this was an unrealistic time frame as my exercises seemed to end after about three and a half minutes… clearly, I didn’t mind. After 60 days I had not grown at all and called for my refund. When the operator on the other end of the phone asked why I wanted a refund, I said it was because I still had a small pecker, thinking this was a light-hearted way to acknowledge the ineffectiveness of the protocol.

I was greeted with silence.

I got my money back and read with some interest a couple of years later that the company was sued for making fraudulent claims. Apparently they had some protection since the FDA doesn’t bother to regulate claims made from herbal products. I had an idea that I could sell pills that would improve memory, cure diabetes, grow penis size, reverse menopause, stop diarrhea, and help pick winners in the stock market. Apparently all one had to do was include the disclaimer, “The FDA has not evaluated claims related to this product” and there would be little fall out.

I just wanted to see a wide-eyed look of bewilderment on the face of the next woman with whom I got naked…

My wife has mentioned on several occasions that she has seen some ‘monsters’ in her day, guys so big that she refused them entry into her body. I always asked what she did to satisfy these hungry monsters (secretly jealous that I was so clearly NOT a monster) who were intent on ruining her birth canal, but she still hasn’t answered. I like it better that way since I get to use my imagination. Reality can sometimes be a drag. I asked her how I stacked up in the hierarchy of penises. In fact, I have asked every woman this same question over the years and have always heard the same answer, “You have a nice size.” I still can’t tell if they are being nice or being honest. But I have reached a point where I no longer care since I measured myself with a ruler and I am well above the national average. One night I placed my erection against my wife’s forearm and discovered it was the same size. This gave me great comfort. Now I don’t have to worry so much that I wasn’t the biggest guy ever in her life because I know I wasn’t the smallest.
Of course, there is always the question of girth. But for now I can always ask my wife to arm wrestle and she will simply shake her head and purse her lips.

I still wonder if that is how she fought off the monsters.

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