Am I The Only Girl That Actually Finds Penises Endearing?

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laughing woman

By Ashley Reese

On the outset of my Accidental Virgin adventures, I expected to play the field, gain some experience, and finally have p in v sex with someone I don’t hate.

Instead, I only went on dates with three different dudes, gave two of them blow jobs on separate occasions, ended up in a long term relationship with one of the beej recipients, and still haven’t had a successful go at intercourse.

But while I’m a card carrying member of the V-Card Society (by my personal definition of virginity), I’ve still managed to dive head first into the land of dicks and honey. I’m no Carrie Bradshaw, but finally, at 24-years-old, I’ve gained a bit of wisdom and strong convictions about sex and hooking up. I couldn’t lay claim to that early last year, when I’d never even been kissed yet.

Here’s one that I never thought I’d believe a couple of years ago: I find penises oddly endearing.

I was the girl who asked her male friends about their hard ons in high school, not to turn them on, but to actually gain some sense of logistical understanding of how the hell penises work. Penises were as awkward as they were alien, and when your primary source of information about them comes from sex ed and bad fan fiction, it’s easy to get a little confused. Surprise, surprise, the same women writing sex scenes didn’t know much more about penises than I did.

My first experience with penises in real life was drawing them in a high school figure drawing class. Whenever I trailed my charcoal down from the chest, to the torso, to the hips, I always drew a wispy looking rectangle where the penis was before breathlessly moving on to the legs.

I wouldn’t actually come face to face (face to peen?) with a penis again until six years later, and over those years I came to the conclusion that penises were ugly drooping messes of flesh and veins.

Just a couple of years ago I witnessed a friend of mine bemoan how utterly heterosexual she was, and between drags of her cigarette, she launched into a ramble about how much she loved dick. The shape, the diversity, the sensation…it was an ode to dick. I laughed, but I couldn’t wrap my head around finding affection towards penises. Besides, I figured that cis-gender dudes already love their penises, they don’t need any more praise about it from anyone with a vag.

Things have changed.

I maintain that they’re funny looking, but I’ve grown a little fond of that strange, dangling organ.

My appreciation doesn’t come from a place of cowed respect, nor do I now see penises as some beacon of strength and virility. Fuck that.

My newfound fondness of penises comes from the opposite perspective: I like the fact that they’re actually quite vulnerable, easily swayed yet finicky. Plus, they’re goofy as fuck.

I can’t help but approach them with the same lurid curiosity I did when I was a teenager. I marvel at how quickly it stiffens in my hand, I frown when it stays limp. I poke, I prod, I caress, all while asking the tough questions: “Does it really shrink up when it’s cold? That doesn’t hurt? What’s your most embarrassing boner story? Did you know that you have a very aesthetically pleasing penis? Because you do.”

No, seriously, I’ve told my boyfriend – who can’t even take a compliment about his hair –that he has an aesthetically pleasing penis in the same sterile way a snobby art critic approaches some post-modern sculpture at MOMA. I’m not sure how he took it, but I was just keeping it real.

I’m not sure how long I’ve considered myself a connoisseur of dicks at this point. I mean, my credentials confirm that I haven’t interacted with enough to be a true expert, and balls are still elusive territory. Still, I’ve resigned myself to falling for the penis’ charm. I might not be able to admire it in my vagina yet, but it would take a lot for that affection to fall to the wayside.

In conclusion, penises are aight, and I’m excited by the prospect of proudly drawing one if I ever take up figure drawing again.

This article was originally published at The Gloss. Reprinted with permission from the author.