June 6, 2002
I got a wonderful email today- "Amazing New Pill Adds Up To Three Inches To Your Penis!"
Wow, they actually have those kinds of pills!? Normally, I'd be skeptical of this kind of claim... but if it's a mass-emailed advertisement, then it must be true! I could add three inches to my penis!! Oh frabjous day! Huzzah for the miracles of modern science! My life is about to be revolutionized! Oh, but wait-- won't I sprain my wrist?
I dunno why all the hooplah is given to penis size. All the sitcom jokes and article-space given to the idea that men always have their penises on their minds. Us men are all afraid that we might have small penises. We are all out to prove that our wee-wees aren't too small. We're all obsessed with the eternal question: 'does size matter?' Women are convinced this has to be among the overriding concerns of the male experience: our penis size. And it's so fun to make jokes about us based on it. Sheesh.
The thing is, I've never understood why there's so much hooplah over penis size. I certainly don't worry about my penis size. Here is why: I am extremely satisfied with it.
Maybe I'm just strange, but concern about my penis size never crosses my mind and I'm sure that it's not my overriding subconscious concern either. It just doesn't enter my mind because it's so peripheral to anything else. Much in the same way that I never worry about whether a volcano on Jupiter's moon Io is going to erupt tomorrow. Much in the same way I never worry about what happened on the eastern coast of Greenland in 1762. Penis size is just not something that is really relevant to my daily affairs. If I could have the ability to magically change anything about my body, I don't think I'd change a thing about... that southern appendage. Of this I am pretty certain.
Could it be? Am I the one guy on the planet who is actually happy with his wang? Or maybe I'm being too honest by saying this? Maybe I'm just being gross? It's awful hard for me to tell nowadays.
I was very tempted to reply with the following email-- "Dear sirs, my member is adequately long, indeed I would not want it longer lest the generative organs of my conquests prove unable to accommodate its fullness. However- to my shame, my trouser-snake is as narrow as a willow-wand. Indeed, my wispy reed of a love-tool has been a source of embarrassment for quite some time among my numerous girlfriends. Is there some means your amazing pill could add to my girth, without the lengthening effect? If so, I should become the most loyal of customers. Furthermore, if I take double the normal dose, will I grow six inches or shall my increased spongy tissues burst-through the skin upon arousal? If I do suffer such a rupture, are you liable for any legal recourse I might take? Sincerely, NiceGuy."
Heh, three inches, indeed. Well, just thank God they're not your typical fly-by night penis-enlargement-pill company...
In other news, Kaori came-over for dinner the other night, and I cooked for her. We also watched the World Cup (Japan vs. Belgium. 2-2.) I opted not to make wasabi fried-rice, because I didn't have enough wasabi. Instead, I made a Thai green chicken curry with rice, and followed-up with a bit-too-chunky chocolate fondue with strawberries, pineapple and banana slices. The food was very good. Indeed, nothing satisfies like a Thai green curry over rice. (Strawberries are expensive as hell in Japan, though.)
She stayed until 11 PM. I walked her from my apartment to the nearest subway station in the pitch-black of night, through narrow, twisting, poorly-lit streets barely wide enough for one car. What has to be among the best things about Japan: the streets are very safe at night. Kaori mentioned she was chilly on the walk back, so I gave her my long-sleeved shirt to wear. (Four days later, she gave the shirt back to me... cleaned and neatly-folded no less!) We talked all the while. Mainly, she spent the whole time telling me what a good cook I am and how much she enjoyed the evening and how smart I am to have picked-up so much Japanese in such a short amount of time. Because I'm naïve enough to assume that her compliments actually aren't all total lies, I denied every compliment she gave me and complimented her English and thanked her for her help in cleaning-up the dishes afterwards.
After she left... I felt an overwhelming, blissful peace settle-over me. I walked back, totally unconcerned with anything. Everything just seemed right. In fact, I was so oddly content, I began to wonder why.
And after a while, I think the answer came to me. It was really simple: at the end
of the day, a guy has to feel like an appreciated and respected guy.
If you're going to cook and be chivalrous, then the woman really has to
show appreciation and respect in order to make it at all worthwhile. If she doesn't
show any of either, you feel like your efforts have been in vain. It's nice to
get both appreciation and respect from a woman- before I came to Japan,
I'd wondered if women were even physically capable of giving those things.
Women
in the U.S. have such an incredibly low opinion of males, they are incapable of
even noticing that nearly every single modern convenience and utility around them
has been invented (and probably installed in their homes) by a man. So they feel
that neither appreciation nor respect is due to men-- at all.
You know, it
doesn't have to be that way. Women are capable of giving appreciation and
respect to men. They are capable of not being man-haters. But the American
chicks just choose not to. They do have the ability to be civil
yet they are content to be thankless, vulgar pieces of garbage. What's more, they
get so much satisfaction from their bitchiness; it's just so darned fun
to call men idiots. It's as simple as that. No wonder I'm so turned-off by them.
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