The Pinky Guy

I’ve often wondered about what it is that women think the first time they see a guy naked. My common sense tells me that unless a man is freakishly over or under-endowed they just sort of think, “Yep, that’s what a penis looks like.” And that’s all the consideration they put into it.

I’ve often wondered what a girl thinks when she sees a guy that is poorly equipped. Do they get up and run? Do they close their eyes and suffer through it? Do they point and laugh? As luck would have it, one of my friends recently told me a story that laid all my questions to rest.

The two of us were out at a bar, hanging out and sharing a couple beers, when we got sucked into a conversation at a near-by table. Two minutes later we were seated and chatting away like we’d known everyone for years. While I focused my concentration on a rather fetching blonde at the other end of the table, my friend began putting the moves on a tall, dark, rocker looking guy sitting to her right.

The evening progressed nicely and both of us managed to get numbers. Now, about 75% of women that I know claim to have a supernatural power to deduce a man’s penis size based on some aspect of their body. The weird thing is, no two girls can agree on WHAT it is that grows in direct correlation to a guy’s member: ear lobes, hands, shoulder width…At this point I fully expect to have a woman come up to me and take a measurement of my skull and then grin suggestively and ask to buy me a drink. My friend was certain that she could deduct with absolute certainty what would, ideally, be buried in her later that week. Turns out she was wrong.

One date in she decided that there was no chemistry working between them. It wasn’t that they didn’t find each other attractive…just that their personalities didn’t align well. So she figured, why not just use him for sex?

It was a good impulse, and she was still fairly certain that he was hiding three pounds of beef in his pants. So certain, in fact, that when they made out at the end of the night, she didn’t even bother checking out the goods.

It’s a move that I know too well from my make-out sessions with women. Both of you are in the car, there’s some serious kissing and touching going on…she wants to see what she’s got to work with. Generally, it’s nothing as obvious as a full blown hand down the pants. It’s usually a much subtler move, like pressing her whole body against you. It’s a casual, “yeah, he’s a guy, and that’ll do the trick” maneuver.

So after some heavy petting, my friend left the car with plans to go over his house that weekend to “watch a movie.” Which, as we all know, is code for, “fuck like beasts while ‘Good Will Hunting’ plays in the background.”

There they were in his room: a long forgotten TV was blaring Cooking Network shows, her top was off, he was down to his boxers and kissing her neck, so she sent an exploration party to see if he was ready for the main event.

The first land survey turned up no proof of life. Ditto for the second. At this point, she was beginning to get concerned. She had one purpose for being there: getting pounded like a white boxer on fight night. If he wasn’t going to be able to perform, there was no point in her presence there.

So, in a last ditch effort, she went up the leg of his boxers. At long last her, her hands closed on the prize.

“How bad was it?” I asked, when she recounted the story for me later.

She didn’t say anything in response. Instead, she simply held up her pinky.

I let that sink in for a moment. “Well, maybe he wasn’t ready to go. Are you sure he was--”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

She never told me her exact line of reaction to the guy, but I do know that she made it clear to him that “she had to get up early the next day.” The worst part for her was lying in bed cuddling for about 20 minutes before hunting down her bra and sprinting for the car.

Now, I’ve never had a comparable experience, thankfully. I can’t even imagine how crushing that must be to a man. My heart goes out to the dude, and truthfully, I feel bad for him. But not bad enough to not laugh.

The funny part about the story is that we still see him around from time to time. I wonder if he noticed that we both develop itches on our face that we scratch with our pinkies on his approach.