I like having erections.

They are best without any clothes on. They don’t get tangled and compressed. I can feel the air on all sides of it, and even without touching it I am aware of that simultaneous hardness and softness. It makes my whole body feel more alert and energized in a subtle and delicate way. I sense the environment better—the flows of air and energy, the spaces between things, the contrasts and continuities. A boner is easy to stroke while doing something else, and all the parts have slightly different textures. It is fun to make the head flare up like a collared lizard. And I like to see the nice golden arc of my urine when I have a boner and pee in the forest. And there is nothing better than when Luna touches me or even just looks at me and it starts to expand and we both know that everything is going to be just great.

I feel optimistic when I have a boner. It makes me realize that the simple things in life are still nice.

It wasn’t always the case. When I was young, a boner was all about being horny and wanting things I didn’t have. I didn’t know how to enjoy them. Then, for a long time I didn’t get many boners. I was working too hard, and unhappy in my marriage. But my boners have been pretty active the last five or six years. And now I sometimes even get them while reading or thinking. It is really a pleasure to know that I am slowly but surely breaking down that barrier between intellectual and sensual activities that has divided me for so long. Unfortunately, I rarely get an erection while walking or exercising, which sometimes happened when I was young.

A flaccid penis can be fun to twist like a pretzel or bury in my ball sack. But it is basically just a helpless object there to get smooshed and pushed out of the way. It is not a nexus for energy.

Unfortunately, the metaphoric potential of cocks is pretty limited—nothing at all like the richness of pussies. The cock just kind of sticks out there, naked in its neediness. It has none of the depth and layers of pussies. This is not to say that cock metaphors are rare. Quite the opposite, we are inundated by phallic symbols. But the implications are pretty simplistic. That idea of the hard, thrusting ram—it doesn’t at all fit the feeling of a vibrant, breezy, complexly textured nexus of energy that I feel.

I think the aggressive phallus is really only a compensation for pussy envy. Even so, the monodimensionality of the phallic symbol still reflects the simplicity of the male orgasm: quick, to the point, followed by distraction or sleepiness. It is trivial compared to the layers and waves that can vibrate through a woman’s body, and which can come one after another, again and again. Oh well, we all just have to make the best.


Posted on November 4, 2012, in Love and Sex and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.


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