Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Pretending I Help, Part II

Helping makes me happyCallers have told me that I have helped them, most often by helping them fall asleep after they climax. As someone who is genuinely, deeply concerned about sleep-deprivation for many of my friends and loved ones, I value "phone sex as a sleep aid" more than most people probably do, and I'm happy to help in that way.

But back in late 2010 / early 2011, I was active on reddit for a while. I had to quit; it ended up being too dizzying to keep up with the amount of scrolling required. But I enjoyed reading people's questions, and offering pithy and/or amusing answers, imagining that one day I could develop a following and become the phone-sex-girl equivalent of Dan Savage (gay male sex and relationship advice columnist who shares many of my thoughts about being, as he calls it, "monogam-ish").

Today, I followed a link in Twitter to reddit and saw my "unread email" light was on, which is weird since I haven't posted for months. Here's what I found:
Last January (5-6 months ago, but it feels like a different world) I posted about "getting over" the fact that I had a "needle-dick" and enjoying my sex life. Something you said really stuck with me - long story short you told me to develop a positive mantra . I did, begrudgingly so, because I really had nowhere to go but up at that point.
(note: some of what I actually said: The idea of using mantra to help change your mental state is a time-honored one. "I will enjoy sex" or whatever, but don't have a negative mantra (ex: I won't let my needle dick bother me, which only reinforces "needle dick" and "bothers me"). I think everyone should enjoy sex regardless of their physiology - it is only one part of who you are, and I wish you much luck in "getting over it")
Within two months my cock insecurity was completely gone. And here's the thing - I found out that I actually have a fairly large penis. It literally started to look bigger to me. I don't need to get into specifics but it's well above average in length and above average in girth. But that's irrelevant.

Your suggestion helped me to realize I had some kind of body dismorphic disorder combined with a crippling case of mental self-sabatoge. Looking back, almost every girl I've slept with has orgasmed from penetration alone, and some had told me my dick was big (no prodding on my part) But I literally erased these memories from my mind, replacing them with negative ones (some of which I only imagined). Your suggestion was the chink in the armor of my crippling insecurity, and once it started to fall, it fell hard. I'm the happiest I've ever been, and in and out of the bedroom my life has never been more fulfilling. Sure, I'm still one crazy and weird motherfucker, but you helped me absolutely ruin my insecurity and the negative way that I viewed myself.

Thank you so much.
Clearly, I was only one tiny push in one tiny step in this man's long journey to heal himself. He had the courage to post to reddit that he wanted to "get over" the size of his penis and learn to enjoy sex, so he was on the very brink of his own healing before he met me.

But seriously. How awesome is that?

While we're on the subject of cock size and body dysmorphia and shit I know that may help someone, here are some hand-to-heart truths:

I will play cock-size humiliation games with someone upon request, but it's all bullshit. I care thousands times more what size your heart is than what size your cock is. If you make me laugh, I will want to make out with you before I know what's in your pants. If you make me feel sexy, I will want to share orgasms with you, regardless of the delivery mechanisms.

Some of my favorite lovers have had erectile dysfunctions of various types (difficulty reaching orgasm, difficulty developing and/or sustaining erections, etc). Many of my favorite sexual memories involve sex toys, fingers, tongues, and/or women without a cock or strap-on in sight.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I love me some cock. Mmmmm cock. But an erect penis of any size is no more necessary for my sexual fulfillment than any other method which brings me great pleasure.

My personal little theory (unproven and perhaps unprovable) is that erectile dysfunctions are so common among smart men over 30 (especially men with tendencies on the autism / asperger / obsessive-compulsive spectra), because they have so many damn thoughts bouncing around in their smart brains that they find it difficult to focus on their pleasure. It took a while for me to believe that my partner could enjoy sex if he didn't get off. Once I let go of that worry, I learned to love the freedom of it.

For what it's worth, I've heard anecdotal evidence that meditation and tantric practices can help quiet your overly-speedy brain, as can prescription anti-anxiety medicines, as can other forms of chemically induced mellowness. However, please be careful when messing with your brain chemistry.

So. Here's the deal: If you squeeze my heart, I will love fucking you, even if "fucking you" involves no penis-vagina penetration whatsoever, or even if the penis doing the penetration is shallow or thin or both. It's what you make me feel in my emotional guts that counts, far more than my physical ones.

(note to callers who have told me I have helped you: if you want a blog post in the "Pretending I Help" series, now that it apparently wants to be a series, feel free to email me your at-least-somewhat-concise version of how I've helped you, in your words, and I'll publish a version of Pretending I Help for you, too... eventually... although, you know how unreliable I am about when I publish which blog posts. Also, that run-on non-sentence was not a good example of how to be concise.)

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