I Lost My V-Card To A Micropenis


I have read article after article about how “size doesn’t matter” and “girls don’t care about size.” Well those are all lies. To be honest, size totally matters. I don’t mean that in an “if you’re an inch too small or an inch too big it’s the end of the world” way. But if you have a micropenis (or maybe like a giant whale sized dick)? Yeah. Then it matters. I lost my virginity to one of these rare micropenises, and let me tell you, it was worse than you can imagine.

Now to be fair, this relationship had been doomed from the beginning. This guy was perfect, or as perfect as you can think when you’re a 17-year-old. He was tall (over 6 feet), foreign, and smart — a total catch. His only flaw? He barely talked. I swear to the Founders that we never once talked on the phone. We texted everything. In person, I talked and he would respond with “okay” “yep” or my personal favorite, “cool.”

So how did I make the discovery that my boyfriend had a teeny weeny peeny? In the worst possible way: a movie theater blow job as his Christmas present. Granted I was super innocent when I was in high school (#tbt), so giving my boyfriend his first ever blow job was a BIG deal. Sadly, that’s the only thing that was big. We went to see New Year’s Eve, a movie that I’ve still never seen, but I’ve heard was terrible, so I’m not mad I missed it. The movie theater was empty except for us and one lady sitting on the other side in the back who totally knew what was happening. He pulled his elastic shorts down (hot right?) and there it was: a little sausage in a jungle of pubes. Clearly, no one told this guy about manscaping. I looked at him confused and he said “Oh yeah, the doctor says I have a micropenis.”

It was the longest sentence he had ever said out loud.

So I gave him the easiest blow job in the world. It was horrible. And I don’t mean horrible as in all blow jobs are horrible. I mean really, painfully, soul crushingly horrible. For me. Not for him. His little penis had never been happier. After that you would think that I would have learned my lesson. But no. My micro adventures didn’t end there. A month after Christmas we decided that it was time. Time to pop the cherry. The itty bitty cherry.

We planned out everything. We would go to his aunt’s house for a group sleepover with his two cousins and their SOs, and we would get the living room to ourselves. Romantic right? We got on the couch and started kissing. I will give him this gold star, he was a great kisser. Once he told me he was “ready,” I handed him a condom and he got up, went to the bathroom, and put on the condom. Yeah. He went to the bathroom to put the condom on. What?! I was already scared, and him being evasive was not helping. He comes back and gets into position. Unfortunately the position wasn’t working due to his size, so we try something else. And something else. And something else.

Eventually we ended up laying on the floor, in the middle of the living room and did “it.” By “it” I mean he humped my inner thigh while I looked at the ceiling and asked God what I did to deserve this tiny penis?

Sadly, it took me another month to realize that he was the most boring person in the world. So I did what any rational, mature, 17-year-old girl would do. I become a horrible person so he would dump me.

I was wary of men as a species after that. Luckily, however, I was soon introduced to the glory of frat parties and one night stands with guys who not only had “normal” penises, but knew what to do with them. So in conclusion, size matters. Especially if your penis is below 2.5 standard deviations below average. As it turns out that the only thing worse than having a micropenis, is trying to be a girl having sex with one.

Image via Shutterstock

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