I wish more men were like Nick Gilronan, winner of last year’s Smallest Penis in Brooklyn contest (this year’s contest is this Sunday, aka Father’s Day). He is proud of what he’s got between his legs, so much so that he was willing to stand almost naked, wearing just a mankini, in front of a crowd and strut his stuff. He told an interviewer, “The size of a man’s penis does not matter for who he is as a person or in a relationship,” and I wholeheartedly agree. See, I prefer guys who are a little less endowed, with good reason. Firstly, the best lovers I’ve ever had have been on the smaller side, which I don’t think is a coincidence. My hunch is that because these men feel self-conscious about their size (all of them told me as much at some point), they go out of their way to make up for it, excelling at oral sex and making good use of their fingers as well as positions like doggy-style.
Second, smaller guys are grateful for the attention paid to their member. A former lover, who is one of the most confident, bordering on arrogant, people I’ve ever met, was almost shy the first time he took his clothes off with me. “I hoped you would like it,” he said once he was fully naked. I would never have expected him to be anything but sure of himself, and, far more than anything we did in bed, that moment of humility endeared him to me. It made him vulnerable, which made my heart beat extra hard. Well-endowed guys are, in my experience, often too cocky (pardon the pun), so sure of themselves and their magical penises that they act like all they have to do is lie there to impress me. The result is the very opposite.
Along with this, being able to laugh about your penis size is something else I appreciate. Sure, we all have aspects of our bodies we wish were different, but if you’re so hung up on what you’re missing, you’re not going to be fun in bed. I appreciate lovers who’ll joke around when I tell him I want to get busy, like the boyfriend who said, “You want to touch my small penis, don’t you?” Or if we were at the grocery store and I picked up an unusually large zucchini, “It’s always about size with you, isn’t it?”
Third, I’ve slept with men on the opposite end of the penis size spectrum—in my opinion, they were too big. One of whom I had a huge crush on and worked hard to woo, only to find that during sex if he pushed all the way inside me, it hurt. No matter how much I shifted around, took deep breaths or prepared myself, sex with him wasn’t that much fun (in hindsight, lube would have helped, but I didn’t have any on me). Not to mention giving him head was almost impossible. That’s not to say I wouldn’t have dated him, but only that sex with him was more work than someone with smaller. So be careful what you wish for, ladies.
Fourth, smaller actually works better for certain activities like anal and oral sex. I’m more likely to want to try anal sex with someone who I don’t fear will hurt me because of his size.
Too many women fall for the myth that a bigger dick automatically means better sex; there’s even a dating site, 7orbetter.com for, you guessed it, men who hang at seven inches or more, and the women who lust after them. I’m not saying size doesn’t matter, but it’s not the be all and end all of your sex life. Can you imagine if a guy rejected you because your boobs weren’t big enough? Judging a man by what’s between his legs is just as obnoxious, especially since it’s not something he can change.
Still, telling a man he’s small is the worst insult we can give a guy in today’s culture—witness Farrah Abraham trying to belittle her sex tape costar James Deen by mocking him and saying, “His penis is small. I haven’t seen many but his was definitely not big.” Never mind that this we can all judge for ourselves via a Google search—she sunk to the lowest common denominator of attacking someone’s manhood. So what if it was small? That doesn’t mean the person on the receiving end of such an insult isn’t a good person—or a good lover.
When I say I prefer a small penis, that’s not to say I have a tape measure in my hand when I jump into bed with someone or that not having one is a dealbreaker. I couldn’t tell you the exact measurements of my boyfriend’s penis, or any of my exes. It’s not a matter of a hard number, but more that when I fall for someone, I fall for the whole package (again, pardon the pun).
A 2013 study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America (yes, the shortened version is PNAS!) found that “males with a larger penis were rated as being relatively more attractive.” Of course they were! Visually, a big bulge is going to look sexier than a small one, but that doesn’t tell you anything about what the guy will actually be like in bed.
More than any single position or act, what my best not-so well-endowed lovers have shared is confidence in themselves. Sure, they may wish in a utopian way that they were bigger down there, but they’ve learned to work with what they have. They weren’t sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. The worst of all worlds would be a guy who wanted constant reassurance that he was “big enough”—that’s not my job.
Just as you seem taller when you hold your head high and project confidence, a penis will seem bigger if you present it the right way—and I don’t just mean shaving your pubic hair, though that works too. As my hero Gilronan said, “Probably the most fun I have with my penis is that I’m a grower, not a shower, and when I’m with women I love seeing their reactions as it grows to double its flaccid size.” Exactly. I like the whole process of sex—it’s not just about the end result. Knowing that I’ve turned him on—that he’s getting harder specifically because of me and my attractiveness—makes me want to go further. If I feel the need for something bigger inside me, there’s always a trusty dildo or vibrator.
Being with an actual, flesh and blood human being is about enjoying all their eccentricities, not just measuring them against a pre-conceived checklist. When I’m with someone who completely captivates me, at that moment, he could be two inches or twelve—I truly don’t care.
Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) is the editor of over 50 erotica anthologies, including The Big Book of Orgasms, Best Bondage Erotica 2014 and Flying High: Sexy Stories from the Mile High Club. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and Tweets at @raquelita.