The Great Penis Masterdebate

In my 1986 autobiography, Playing the Field, I openly discussed the penis sizes of some of the men I had known. Because of that, the book caused quite a stir in its day. Talk show hosts, especially men, were very intimidated by a woman who frankly evaluated men the way men had evaluated women over the years--by inches. (How many times have we heard, “And the new Miss America's measurements are 36-24-36...”)

In sounding off about every girl's favorite subject, I don't pretend to speak for all women. We differ greatly in our opinions, requirements, and desires. Diversity is everything, loves. What follows are the opinions of one woman who has, let's say, seen a few.

Penis size has been, for me, one of those things that, um, comes and goes. There have been times in my life when bigger was better, and there have been times when less was more. I think that may be hard to understand if you're not vagina-equipped. Suffice to say that over time, my tastes changed, sometimes leaning toward a lover who was not King Kong, and other times revisiting that Big Banana.

This is stuff that girls really talk about, fellas. And when they do, look out! Your last night’s date is probably giving her friends a shrewd evaluation of your firmness, angle, size, and shape (more about that in a minute). Most likely she'll have a critique of your ability to make her come, your willingness to do so, your imagination in achieving it, and the duration of your enthusiasm for the task.

Now...shape. I can't recall seeing any studies on this subject, but as a girl with any experience at all will tell you, there are some weird curves and contours behind those zippers out there. And some of them, no matter how suave and sexy the operator is, just don't fit that well.

Okay, here's the long and short of it. Size is important, but we're talking about sex here, not calling up roto-rooter. There is such a thing as pleasure. And while a big dick can be really fun, it's not always a ticket to paradise for me. Not always.

I dated a guy for some time who was really huge, we're talking major kielbasa here, a highly sexed Latin who, as luck would have it, had lots of money to go along with a really enormous penis. For a while, it was like having a new yacht or a fast car, and it was fun to take it out for a spin whenever I got a chance. But after the initial novelty wore off, it became sort of an ordeal, jousting with a dick, so to speak. He acted like he had to defeat me with the thing each time we had sex. Before long, I became bored with his game of let-me-amaze-you-with-my-wang. If anything else went wrong in the relationship (and, believe me, things started going wrong in a big hurry--he was possessive and jealous!), he assumed that he could fix it with that big tool.

I have written elsewhere that 7 1/2 inches was the ideal size for me. What, you may ask, is the basis for such a specific measurement? It is a complicated equation, to be sure, part astrology, part East Indian Kamasutra, and part old-fashioned carpenter's tape measure. And experience. Hey, it's the Scientific Method: experimentation. Go figure. It's the right size.

Now, pay close attention guys. If you have a BIG one, you may have quite an asset. And if you have a small one, it probably works about as well as any of them. But neither of you is necessarily toting a passport into the famous fucker hall of fame. You still have to pay attention to the little things: attitude, humor, creativity. Guys packing the really heavy artillery may not be as creative in their love-making as some of the smaller caliber men. Often, they don't need to be.

Small guys tend to be more creative, but not always. And sometimes it's so little, there's just nothing you can do. I went for an evening with a really famous muscle man (he was Mr. Universe and you'd know his name, believe me! Never mind the year.) He was very full of himself and his minor acting career, but I brought him back to my hotel room after dinner anyway and we got down to it. We necked hot and heavy, and undressed each other. I marveled at his gorgeous body as I peeled away his clothes. Until, that is, the bikini underwear came off and revealed what must have been the world's smallest penis! It was difficult not to laugh because it looked like a toy--just like a big one, only really teeny-tiny. I developed a headache and he had to leave, un-consummated. That's not something that's happened to me often, but, with this guy, it was the combination of wise ass and micro phallus that put me off. You see, some small guys have an attitude too. They're cruising, cocky (so to speak), and always hitting on the next girl they see to prove that they're adequate.

Take your pick of stories about American politics and penises. Presidential cocksmanship is really a sort of national pastime. Other, older cultures scratch their heads and laugh at our shock over the dalliances of government leaders that they regard as boys-will-be-boys. But admit it, ours are funny. Like Trump diddling the porn star, Stormy Daniels, with a penis that Stormy herself admitted wasn’t much bigger than a peanut. Back during the Clinton years (it does seem like ancient history, doesn’t it?) Gennifer Flowers held press conferences so the world need not fear Bill—he was hung not much better than average.

Truman Capote once weighed in on the legendary Kennedy brothers after spying on them from the guest cottage of an estate next to theirs in Palm Beach. Truman had stayed at Gloria Guinesses' house in Palm Beach, which shared a private beach with the nearby Kennedy compound. Truman watched Jack, Bobby, and Ted swimming nude in the surf at various times, and was later quoted as saying,

“I don't understand why everyone said the Kennedys were so sexy,” Truman recalled. “I know a lot about cocks. I've seen an awful lot of them, and if you put all the Kennedy’s together you wouldn't have one good one.”

Maybe it was the cold Atlantic water.

My old friend, the late Forrest Tucker was rumored to have one of the biggest cocks in Hollywood. He was a tall, good-looking guy with blond hair and a great tan even in his mid-sixties, and it wouldn't have been surprising. Forrest and I were in a show back in the mid-1980's. After a performance one night we took a limo to a Polynesian restaurant for drinks and dinner. On the ride to the restaurant, I asked Forrest if the rumors were true, and he told me the following story.

Forrest and several other actors were drinking at Slapsy Maxy's, a famous Hollywood watering hole back in the 1940's, owned by the prizefighter, Slapsy Maxy Rosenblum. On this evening everyone got pretty well oiled and there was considerable bragging about sexual exploits. It finally got down to everyone’s penis size. The argument got more heated, and by closing time, money started getting thrown on the bar and a sizable bet was made. Slapsy rummaged around under the bar and came up with a ruler, and the contestants unzipped to settle the matter then and there.

“I pulled mine out, Mamie,” Forrest told me, while the limo driver strained to hear from the front seat, “and it was between eleven and twelve. I thought I had the bet won! Then this short guy, who could not have been more than five-three or -four, hauled his out...” Forrest paused for effect.

“And? And?” I asked.

“And it hung over the end!”

“Who was it, Forrest?” I asked.

He grinned. “Never underestimate those short guys. It was George Raft.”

Like Kurt Vonnegut said in Breakfast of Champions, you never know who's going to get one. So it goes.

No one gets to choose their penis size. If you guys did, I'm sure all of you would choose a big one. But it’s an unfair world out there. In the process of being born, all you boys get to play in the penis lottery. Afterward, you spend the rest of your lives playing with the penis lottery. We girls are lucky because we get to watch and reap the benefits. Take my advice and make the best of whatever tool size you got. How? By tuning in to your partner's needs and giving up some dedicated, honest love-making. What else can you do?