Monday, October 14, 1996
PRIVACY:
Public or private showcases of genitalia require consentMr.
Happy, stubby, baldy, one-eyed willy, spanky, smiley, shorty,
lefty, bishop … The list is infinite, and I can’t help but to
wonder why. Why are men so preoccupied and concerned with their
genitals, and why do some insist on sharing their family jewels
with others when not asked to do so?
Exhausted from a day of shopping, my friends and I sank into our
seats on the Boston subway.
We sat in comfortable silence, until my friend Ginger suddenly
broke out into uncontrollable laughter. Startled out of my reverie,
I turned my head from side to side, not knowing what I was looking
for. Then I saw it.
A floppy penis challenged my vision as drooping testicles dared
me to keep looking.
He appeared to be normal. He was in his mid-30s and had dark
curly hair. He sported a nondescript white T-shirt and short
running shorts. A plastic bag of groceries sat obediently at his
feet. The only thing that stood out about him was the fact that he
forgot to put on his underwear before heading out to go shopping,
and his genitalia were falling out of the right side of his
shorts.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t want to look, but there was something that was drawing
my inquisitive eyes to that fleshy bulge on his thigh. The only
thing I could do was laugh and try not to make a scene on the
crowded subway.
In a world of his own, the man across from us leaned over and
shifted the grocery bag at his feet. Sitting up in a new position
caused the last inches of his pride and joy to become visible to
us. Absolutely nothing was left to the imagination. It was all
there.
Unable to speak, we kept our faces buried in our shopping bags
until we reached our stop at Harvard Square.
We stumbled off the subway, as did Mr. Penisman. After he turned
the corner we laughed until we cried, and somehow made it back to
our dorm without peeing in our pants.
In the days that followed I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr.
Penisman. Did he simply forget to put on his underwear? Was it
intentional? Was he looking to meet his next girlfriend? Did he
have a job or a family? Or was he a perverted freak who rides the
subways wearing running shorts during the day and then trades them
in for a yellow raincoat to flash impressionable young girls at
night?
I sometimes feel sorry for men in our penis-driven culture. They
think they have to worry about size and the ol’ boxers vs. briefs
debate. Most women I know, including myself, think that penises are
funny looking and have a yucky taste that will not go away no
matter how many times you brush your teeth. My empathy stops,
however, the second I enter a public domain.
Last spring my friends and I went to Tijuana for a night of
debauchery. The next morning, on Easter Sunday, as we staggered
back to the border, a man walked up beside us. He seemed to be
muttering to himself, but then we realized that he was breathing
heavily.
Instinctively, our eyes traced his shoulder down to his hand,
and low and behold, he was masturbating as he walked next to us. We
walked faster than we thought possible to get away from this man
who should have been helping his kids hunt for Easter eggs.
Unfortunately, the story doesn’t end there.
Before we got back to our car, we witnessed another man
masturbating. This one was sitting on a park bench and tried to
make conversation as we walked by.
I don’t think that penises are bad things, but I wish that we
could establish some basic guidelines in regards to when they are
seen by others. Consent is the key. Men, don’t whip it out until
your partner has given you an indication, verbal or nonverbal, that
they want you to.
I have always wondered why many men think its OK to take a
woman’s hand and shove it down their pants, because most women
would never take a man’s hand and shove it down their pants.
Life is only as rich and fulfilling as one’s experiences, and in
an odd way I feel that Mr. Penisman and the masturbating men added
to my life.
In civilized society, people aren’t supposed to do things like
that, but it happens. Recognizing the fact that strange things
which don’t fit into our general paradigms occur on a regular
basis, we can learn and grow from these experiences.
Leah Green, a.k.a. "Glitter Girl," has studied at the Penis
Institute of America, and will publish her first novel, "Impotence,
Alcohol and College Men" next month.
Leah Green