The only time most women give their lady parts a second thought is when those lady parts start acting up. This can happen in 1 of 3 ways and always results in a trip to 1 of 3 places. If they itch, burn or bleed you’ll be heading to either the medicine cabinet, the drugstore or the doctor. If they do all three you’ll first head to Google. It’s spelled “gonorrhoea” by the way. And if you need to know how to spell that, you’ll probably also need to know how to spell the words “subpoena” and “you asshole”.
Other than those few occasions when our lady parts speak up, it’s really as if they don’t exist. I mean they’re pretty useful when the time is right and babies rocket out of them like nobody’s business, but for the most part our vagina’s are our silent partners in life. We don’t talk to them, they don’t talk to us and the world goes around just fine.
Men are different.
If you’ve ever been pregnant or read a baby book you probably know that for the first 2 months or so in the womb, the fetus is really neither a girl nor a boy. After a few weeks the fetus develops something called “indifferent gonads”, which will eventually become either ovaries or testicles, but for the time being, they’re nothing. They’re indifferent. They’re completely and totally loosey goosey about what sex they are. They’re just a few cells holding their place in line until they decide to either scream HEY WE’RE BALLS, or HEY WE’RE BABY MAKERS.
During the 2nd month of gestation …that’s when shit gets real. At around week 7 or 8 stuff starts happening. The Y chromosome, in an attempt to establish dominance, starts peeing testosterone all over the place and the “boy” is born.
It is my belief that this is also the exact moment all men name their penis.
So pregnant mothers be careful about everything you do when you’re 8 weeks pregnant. Innocently whipping up a batch of Rice Krispie squares could result in your son referring to his penis as Marshmallow for the rest of his life.
Men admire, talk to, name, point out, play with, whip back and forth, dress up and even have lengthy, emotional discussions with their penises. From, like, day 1 basically. Oddly they don’t seem to need privacy for any of it.
A man is happy for you to watch him scrunch, move, stretch or ricochet Marshmallow from one side of his pants to the other, because even though he knows he is the proud owner of his very own penis, YOU might not be aware of his good fortune. Think of it like a dog who loves to show you his toy. He has a toy, he’s proud of his toy, and even if he’s going to run away with that toy right away, he wants you to know he is the lucky, lucky owner of that toy.
Like I said, men are different.
And so are the many names for their penis. A few years ago on this very blog I referred to a man’s penis as a “dink”. I didn’t think anything of it. That’s what people round these parts refer to it as. A dink. I mean not everyone, all the time; urologists still haven’t caught on for instance and only the hippest of them tell men they’re going to insert this garden hose sized tube into their dink. Most of them still use official terminology, like ding dong.
In fact, it was through one of my readers that I learned her southern grandmother’s term for it, “that ole’ purple thang”. Which gives new meaning to the term colourful description.
I guess you know where this is heading don’t you. I’ve done it once before, and I’m doing it once again. Asking you for the terms you and your family use for “penis”. Dink? That ole’ purple thang? Weiner? What is it?
Let the world’s most entertaining comment section commence …
p.s. don’t forget to come *back* to this post later today to read the results!