QUESTION:
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your column “A Small Matter of Large Size”. I’m so relieved to know that there are nonsuperficial, nonpenis obsessed, gay men out there. I’m 37 y/o and like you, I have friends that make me feel as if I’m in a perpetual junior high school because all they can talk about is cock size. I’m 6’3″ 205lbs, so I’m a pretty big guy but not well endowed. This superficial culture makes me feel as if I have to apologize for being small. I also have friends that their first question is, “how hung is he?” Like you, I refuse to answer. I just feel I cheapen my experience—and the guy—if I answer. You’ve helped me realize that the truly good guys who are sincere and worth being with don’t care about the size of your penis but the size of your heart.
— Grateful
Dear Grateful:
I can’t believe you bought that load of shit. I was drunk when I wrote that column!
I kid. You brought out some great points. I do, however, believe that you can’t be *too* sanctimonious about this issue. Hence, my favorite joke about the size of the prize:
Four Catholic ladies are having coffee together. The first one tells her friends, “My son is a Priest. When he walks into a room, everyone says ‘Father’.”
The second one chirps up, “My son is a Bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, everyone says ‘Your Grace’.”
The third Catholic lady says smugly, “My son is a Cardinal. When he walks into a room, everyone says ‘Your Eminence’.”
The fourth Catholic lady sips her coffee in silence. The first three ladies all ask, Well…?” She replies, “My son is a 6′ 2”, hard-bodied stripper, and hung like a rhino. When he walks into a room everyone says, “OH, MY GOD!”