How biology has saved us from trauma

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Image credit: Anjitha Senarath

Most male humans have a penis. Most male birds don’t.

Male ducks are one of the few avian exceptions to this rule.

And frankly I suspect they’re quite pleased.

Many species of duck have a corkscrew-shaped penis that is quite large proportionate to the duck’s overall body length. The lake duck is especially pleased with his, because it can measure 42.5 centimeters (16.73 inches) long. That would be spectacularly impressive for a human male, but for the duck it’s even more astonishing because the entire duck itself is barely that length. So its male appendage is as long as its body.

Most men spend significant time thinking about their penis: “is it big enough?” “is it thick enough?” “is it long enough?” “is it hard enough?” “is it magnificent enough?” In addition to these concerns there is often an unwarranted pride in the very same object: “my wonderful hard cock!” “every girl wants a piece of this big boy!” and of course “has anyone in the history of humankind ever been blessed with such a monster?”

Now imagine a human male six feet tall having a six-foot long penis.

The bragging would go on for years.

No doubt men would argue over the best way to carry Mister Lengthy: some would favor an over-the-shoulder technique and debate whether left shoulder or right was more manly. Others might utilize their children’s skate-boards for a “follow behind me” approach, at least on smooth surfaces. Perhaps others would wrap Mister Anaconda around their waists and experiment with various types of knot.

Apparel manufacturers would doubtless compete to offer the most fashionable Willie Wraps, perhaps with added pockets for storing those essential items that just won’t fit into regular cargo pants.

Glow-in-the-dark condoms could turn Mister Stiffy into Luke Skywalker’s light sabre.

Men would learn early on in adolescence to jerk their heads back out of the way as soon as they felt Mister Happy beginning to harden up, lest a broken jaw or displaced nose should accidentally result from sudden arousal.

We can only speculate with some degree of trepidation the reaction of women to the prospect of being asked to accommodate Mister Really Huge.

It would, however, make long-distance relationships slightly easier.

At least up to a distance of around five feet.

But now we come to the traumatic aspect of the whole Huge Penis business.

Male ducks, it turns out, usually lose their penises at the end of each mating season.

That’s right: Mister Stupendous drops off.

Imagine the howls of anguish tearing through a gentle morning’s sunrise as men everywhere wake up and then look down to see their pride and joy lying limp and bloodless next to them between the sheets as the first chill of Autumn initiates The Great Drop-Off.

Last night’s Magnifico now merely this morning’s flaccid memento. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “having a sense of detachment.”

Assuming one’s female partner had accustomed herself to at least some portion of Mister Merry during the preceding weeks, the subsequent disappointment would not be inconsiderable.

It’s easy to imagine the scornful remarks: “How can you expect to keep a woman when you can’t even keep your own penis?” And of course, “I expected our sex life to drop off a bit after the first few weeks but I didn’t expect it to drop off entirely.”

Men, however, would doubtless adjust rapidly. Without evidence to the contrary, who could naysay a man’s boastful account of how his mighty penis was really ten feet long during the last mating season? If anglers are today famous for their exaggerated accounts of “the big one” we can imagine how much more exaggerated would be the accounts of My Big One.

Fortunately, unless some twisted and deeply perverse geneticist out there gives play to a warped sense of humor, we happy members of the species homo sapiens will forever be of modest size; only our egos and self-belief will continue to swell beyond reasonable bounds.

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