So while we’re on the subject of penises, I’d like to discuss something my cousin sent me recently.
No, it wasn’t a penis (what’s WRONG with you?) and Naked Thoughts wasn’t precisely on the subject of penises just now.
We talked about the pretentious psychology industry’s fascination with penis envy a couple months ago, and then men’s inexplicable fascination with their own penises, and next, we pondered whether fembots pose an actual future threat to the female gender, and we occasionally interspersed these topics with articles about zombies and the soul-sucking nature of corporate America. It has been a good month.
But I digress… my cousin sent me an article about how men with small penises are paying women to make fun of their tiny penises. I don’t want to violate any copyright laws and I’m too lazy to type out any lengthy quotes, so I’ll just throw you the link here.
In a nutshell, a bunch of British men are paying women to make fun of their tiny penises. These men are apparently part of the #sph, or “small penis humiliation,” lifestyle.
Now, the men in this article happened to be British, but you know it isn’t only British men engaging in these kinds of shenanigans, because: 1) there are enough men that love having their small penises mocked to abbreviate the lifestyle on a hashtag, and 2) I can’t think of a fetish so freaky that there isn’t a magazine and internet group devoted to it.
Seriously… Part of the reason I created this website was to provide an open forum for men and women to discuss what puzzles them about the other gender, in a respectful but honest way.
I have personally tried to get the ball rolling by talking about how annoying it is to have to watch men peeing in every other film and outlining the female perspective on the nice guy friend-zoning issue (I know, I’m a giver) and I feel we are starting to get our first sparks of real discussion on these topics.
And now, I’d like to turn our attention to the endless variety of bizarre male sexual fetishes going on…
First off, men seem concerned with penis size to a degree that’s completely out of proportion with the degree of actual female interest in the subject. Apparently, you guys are buying giant trucks and starting fights and building Washington Monuments in a grand attempt to provide evidence of massive penis ownership, and then you’re going to turn around and pay women specifically to make fun of how small your penises are?
Holy crap, I’m tired of hearing about what an irrational gender womankind represents, or how difficult it is to figure out what we really want. We are sensitive, a little moody, perhaps… but you know what we aren’t doing?
Paying men to make fun of our genitals so we can get off.
You know what else we don’t do?
We don’t masturbate with shoes, or pretend someone is cooking us like a Thanksgiving turkey, or fantasize about 50-foot tall men, or have magazines about men getting mashed potatoes and gravy dumped over them, or watch male feet stomp rats or cockroaches to death, or get off on men dressed like cartoon squirrels or clowns who throw pies in our faces, or pay men to drip hot candlewax on our nipples.
These are all fetishes for many men. I’m not saying most men, of course, but enough to maintain a significant subculture. Really, I’m tired of hearing about how baffling the female species is when you guys are engaging in these practices like they make any kind of rational sense.
My giant question then, as a female, is: what’s up with the crazy male fetishes?
The predictable answer is that men have such an enormous sex drive, such unstoppable, relentless sexual energy that it gets expressed in unusual ways that neutered women couldn’t hope to understand.
Well, part of me wants to point out that, in the grand scheme of things. men have gambled far less in the grand scheme of sexuality. Society usually cheered them on in their endeavors, clapping hands and giving bonus points for every male conquest.
Women, by contrast have always risked everything for love. Our lives, our health, our reputations… we always risked being cast out forever for failing to control our ourselves… and yet we failed, We have always risked it all, despite ourselves. Men have never faced an obviously growing belly, threatening the possibility of bleeding out into unconsciousness for a single night of passion.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if women got a backbone for once, if they listened to one more lecture about the unstoppable nature of the male sex drive one too many times, then pointed out that while men have always risked little for every fling they took, women throughout history have shamed themselves for succumbing to nights of passion even when it could be a death sentence.
Put an actual gun to a man’s head before he succumbs to a sweet-talking female, and then we’ll talk.
We hear these things are because men are so much more sexual, but its baffling for us. Sex is, really, a fairly straightforward thing. Anyone old enough to read this blog is well aware of sex entails, so I will refrain from detailing the steps, but it doesn’t entail much beyond sliding Point A into Point B.
And as much as a crazed sex drive could occupy your minds, it hardly makes clown sex seem logical. I have a few cats, and the male ones, despite being fixed, still hump furry blankets like their lives depended on it. They hump blankets, sure, but they never dress them up in clown suits or try to make them stomp cockroaches.
So if the straightforward nature of putting an innie in an outie isn’t enough to explain male fascinations, one also has to consider the idea of some men fusing every personal insecurity and desire for human connection through a sexual lens.
Once, when I was very young (about sixteen), it occurred to me that men felt very little human contact outside the sexual realm.
Women could play with each other’s hair, apply sunblock on each other’s backs, and even hold hands in a moment of connection without disturbing the status quo.
Men, on the other hand, could have almost no connection to other human beings outside of a sexual context (or getting their butts slapped after a sports game. I’m not gonna touch that one).
This idea, at a tender age, made me cry. The idea of not being trusted around children, around friends. seemed tragic. To be so utterly disconnected from your fellow human beings seemed intolerable.
I couldn’t help wondering if this became a prison for you guys, where every human feeling you have, any desire for human contact, easily slips into a twisted game of dominance.
Just own your feelings, guys… We females may be moody and subject to occasional lunacy, but at least we aren’t acting all rigidly unemotional most the time while putting on Lederhosen behind closed doors, paying someone to spank us for being a naughty Alpine boys. Sheesh…