Behind Closed Doors: Bigger doesn’t always mean better
March 22, 2011
My best friend and I were out buying condoms when she picked up a box of magnums. “That’s a total scam,” I said. “You can stretch a regular condom over your fist down to your elbow. And unless your boyfriend actually has a third leg instead of a penis, you don’t need those.” She gulped and looked at the floor as she replied, “Uh, the other ones don’t fit right. They stop too far up and are too tight around the base. He says they’re uncomfortable.” I looked at her in amazement and said, “Your boyfriend must be hung like Seabiscuit.”
So, how important is size, really? Pop culture tells us that size is the be-all, end-all of the sexual experience; all of the movies say, “Size really does matter”. Truth be told, there is a whole lot more to sex than size. The chemistry between two people is not to be underestimated. That spark can make very rational people stay in completely irrational relationships. My high school boyfriend and I went on our very first date the summer after seventh grade and broke up the summer after senior year, and yet we actually had very little in common. He was a jock, I was a brain. He was into cars and I was into the arts. In spite of this, we spent many of our formative years tethered together. Ke$ha said it right – his love was my drug. Maybe he wasn’t as focused on school as I was. Maybe we had different groups of friends. Maybe he hooked up with other girls when I wasn’t around. But we had chemistry, damn it. I thought we were going to be together forever because for five years all I could think about was the heart-pounding, gut-wrenching, wet feeling I had when we were together. In my case, chemistry held together a relationship that should have fallen apart.
And secretly? That boy was well-endowed. He had a nickname at school: The Italian Stallion. Even now the name makes me vomit in my mouth a little, but the fact of the matter is, it was more appropriate than most people could have expected. There was great chemistry. Size was a non-issue. But what? The sex was terrible. We didn’t communicate, and I didn’t know what I wanted. I was basically a body, and he was basically a jack-hammer. If that sounds crude and painful, you pretty much hit the nail on the head. I think there are definitely potential perks to being with someone who can tickle your stomach from the inside. But can there be too much of a good thing? Giving head can get tricky with a long member and a sensitive gag reflex. The most helpful tip I’ve learned from Cosmo in the 12,000 editions I’ve come across since middle school is to wrap your hand around the base of the penis in order to give yourself a guide as to how far you are comfortable going with your mouth. Another potential problem is that the bigger your partner, the greater the possibility that your sexual experience is going to feel reminiscent of a trip to the gyno. If you’re at the wrong angle, your partner may enter too far, and it could be uncomfortable. Absolutely say something to your partner; he has no way of knowing if you’re uncomfortable. Just change positions or support yourself and control the depth of the thrusts. The movies have it wrong. Maybe there’s more to it than size after all.
One of the greatest friends I’ve had since elementary school has been having sex with the same guy since our junior year of high school. She has always refused to use lube. “When I use it,” she told me, “I can’t feel him inside of me.” It sounded just awful to me, but he is her lay of choice, forever and always. My number one question was, “Well, is it good?” She nodded. “Maybe he’s not very big,” she said, “but he knows how to have sex with me.”
But let’s not hate on those that walk among us who are blessed, either. There’s definitely something to be said about width. Feeling full is a good thing, and I don’t mean in an “I just ate Chipotle” kind of way. The good thing about being with someone wide enough to fill you is that all of your nerve endings are being hit at once, which drives up the pleasure.
A sizeable member seems like it can be either a blessing or a curse, but it definitely isn’t the only thing that defines pleasure. When it comes to the shifting seas of sex, I truly believe it’s not the size of the vessel, but the motion of the ocean that really matters.