Friday, 9 December 2011
I'll admit that I have a decent sized "package" when it's junk in the trunks, but I was self conscious for the longest time. I've never been a "low hanger" but that's altogether another story... let's just say I'm a "grower, not a shower."
I've hit my 40s now so I have come to realize I am what I am, for better or worse.
The comparisons have ended. I have what I have, and other guys have whatever they've got.
It's not that I am unimpressed by a big bulge, but along the way I've realized that anybody can make-do with whatever they've got, as long as everything is wired-up moderately close to the "reference design." Even if some protective skin was (sadly) lopped-off before you even knew what it was for, most of the time things are, thankfully, "fully functional."
When I was young -- long before I realized I was mostly homo -- I remember sneaking peeks at other guys' packages. In fact I became quite the expert at it. To my knowledge, I was rarely, if ever, caught stealing glances.
Today, with my (admittedly limited) sexual experiences, I know there are thin, thick, long and short; big nuts and small; and everything in between (it's surprising how few partners are needed to provide these total metrics if you get lucky, so to speak).
I suppose along the way, I've just lost interest in "what's in their pants."
So it surprises me, every time, when I see a younger guy (21+, easy there copper) staring down at my package. I've never considered myself to be impressive (Howard Stern syndrome), but I'm in fairly decent shape, I look good, I'm well dressed, and when things are all hanging just right, I suppose I give good crotch bulge.
I have caught younger guys catching more than a glimpse. I've seen them in a full-on crotch stare.
When I was in my 20s, I would steal glances, that much I remember. But later in life, I came to realize I was gay.
Most guys love talking about equipment and comparing. I suppose this transfers to our precious "built-in" gear.
And I suppose that being gay has, ironically, turned my interest away from the "gear" and towards the primary sex organ. I can quickly adjust to what's in a guy's pants... but if we don't click, then why bother ?