Monday, November 22, 2004

"What is that?" Isabel was staring at my crotch.

"You want an anatomy lesson, baby?"

"No, I mean, what is that in your pocket?"

So she wanted to know what I had in my pants. Isabel and I worked together, but had gone out on a few great dates, fooled around a little bit, and were always flirting on the job. At that moment there wasn’t anyone else in the file room besides us two. I wasn’t as worried about my sexual remark being considered harassment as much as a lame double entendre.

So I said nothing and just whipped it out.

My L.A. Marathon medal. I had just run the race that weekend and brought it in to show off my accomplishment.

"Oh," she said. "I thought that was a condom."

I can understand mistaking the shape -- a flat circular protrusion on my thigh -- but the size? The medal is about three inches in diameter. "I’m not that big."

She smirked, so I jokingly backpedaled. "I mean, I got plenty and all, I’m just sayin’..."

Isabel continued to give me that look, enjoying watching myself dig a deeper hole of humiliation. "Of course, not that my size is even anything I’ve ever worried about..."

"Mm hm."

Really, it isn’t. I’ve got my share of physical insecurities. Who doesn’t? I wish I was taller, or had as much hair as when I was eighteen. Can’t do much about that, but I can control my physique, so my exercise routine has got me constantly committing hate crimes against the love handles.

But when it comes to the fifth appendage, I never gave it a second thought. I delete the "enlarge your penis" e-mail spam because even if those pills and creams did work, hell, I don’t need 'em. Wouldn't say I ever considered myself huge either.

Until my last girlfriend, the one I dated before meeting Isabel. Isabel and I were pretty comfortable with each other -- that's one of the things I liked about her -- and could talk freely about our exes. I had mentioned this former girlfriend to her, though until today I hadn’t discussed our sex life.

To put it bluntly, that girl adored my dick. Honestly, it kinda threw me for a loop.

We’d talk on the phone, saying how spending last night together was great, we couldn’t wait to see each other again... And then she’d start talking dirty. "I miss you and your nice... long, thick... shaft..." I’d respond by telling her how good she tasted, like strawberry ice cream... But she was fixated on my phallus. Going on and on about it. "You know, Michael," she said, "you’re really well-endowed."

"Really?" My voice went up three octaves from that Barry White thing I was doing.

"You never had a girl tell you that?"

Not really the next day. I got plenty of compliments during sex -- gasps of delight at the sight or feeling of my full arousal, praise during pauses in fellatio, etc., but I just chalked it up to pillow talk. The chick providing verbal viagara, if you will.

But maybe it was just that most of the women I had been with didn’t talk dirty in the daytime. The things they said were more romantic than racy. Or maybe this girl’s past boyfriends all just had spaghetti schlongs. So by comparison she was impressed with Mega-Mike.

No. My ex was well-experienced, and she was right. I am huge. After that, I found myself standing in front of the full-length mirror, naked, flexing every muscle, thinking, "yyyeah..."

Then I snapped back to reality. I had been sharing all this with Isabel. Jeez, this was embarrassing. "Sorry," I said. "I don’t know why I just told you all that."

"It’s okay. I know you’re big." Isabel said, "I could tell."

What? How? I looked at my crotch again. Maybe you could see shapes in my pockets, but the pants were too loose elsewhere.

She said, "Yesterday, when we were up front next to each other."

Ah yes. Those slacks were tighter, and we were sitting down. Still...

"Women notice those things? I mean, you look?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling. I smiled back, but had to look away; I was starting to blush.

Before either of us could break the silence, the boss walked into the room. Isabel and I tried to look all businesslike, but we were stifling an awkward laugh. The boss asked if I found the file he needed, and I handed him a heavy folder, packed with papers.

"Wow," he said. "This is a big one."


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