The measure of men
Over 15,000 of them showed up to be counted and measured in about 17 august occasions, in well-documented medical journals. Well, not all at once, thank goodness, but at the appointed times. They were all presumably obedient – rising to the occasion and relaxing, when told. The verdict was 13.12 centimeters (5.16 inches) in length when it is ready to fire, and 11.66cm (4.6 inches) around. In “peace time,” it is 9.16cm (3.6 inches) in length and has a girth of 9.31cm (3.7 inches). The result was a graph aiming to “reassure the large majority of men that the size of their penis is in the normal range.”
Was this the breakthrough medical news we have been waiting for? Well, no, but then again let us not diminish the significance of this monumental counting since it means that once again, the medical research community has done its obligation to assure the majority of our problematically wonderful XYs of this world that their hydraulic appendage is generally within standards.
These XYs are the same creatures who, based on a recent review of about half a million subjects in 31 studies on narcissism, rated, as the gender who is more generous with self-love, than their female counterparts. Never mind that it is not as likely that there will be research on the widths, lengths and angles of a woman’s geographical hotspots. Never mind that the male version of the Human Visible Body project, a detailed photographical reference of the inside of the human body, is still mainly consulted in medical research over the female one unless it is for reproductive research. Never mind that those southern “heads” are only as good as their northern counterparts (clue: the one housed in their skulls). Never mind, never mind, because of course, men had to know their place relative to the artillery of the rest of the men in the world. (This is the part where most men will give a sigh of relief in chorus.)
How useful is this information aside from reassuring the deepest worries of the men in our midst? Am not so sure. It is fun to play with numbers and stretch them to ridiculous lengths.
Where could 13.12 centimeters lead? If they had a life of their own, independent of their “Houstons”, forget the NASA space program, forget Mars One. Believers of the potency of length could link about 1.71 trillion of these straight to Mars. But since we currently have only about 3.5 billion living males, we will not have enough of this legendary “man power” for this space outreach. So let us settle for shorter distances to cover. If the interconnected lengths were just to go around the world once, we only need over 300 million of them. “Around the world” as a goal just assumed a whole new meaning.
Great, now that is all behind us and our anxious XYs could give themselves a pat wherever, we can now all move on to women and what they are for, long after they have sexually served as fertile landing pads for Y’s sexual missions. I am talking about menopause.
It is simple and makes complete sense. Women live long after menopause because they serve to increase the chances of young ones in the family even if they can no longer conceive. This is true for some species of whales and humans. For whales, the menopausal females are the ones who know where the pod can get food especially in times of scarcity. They know “shortage” and could surpass it to benefit their kin. For humans, we are familiar with this widespread phenomenon. We know grandmothers, aunts or distant female relatives contributing in part, if not substituting for the biological mother (if she were not around for any reason). It is called ‘allomothering” – taking care of young ones even if you are not the biological mother.
This is what women generally are preoccupied with – contemplating and ensuring the futures of young ones because more than women, men just generally suck at nurturing the young. We women then apologize for neglecting the ardent call to get our tape measures and scales to examine our own intimate parts. We shall petition the medical research community to remind us to pressure them.
And for the men, seriously, didn’t you know it is the task first and not the tool? It is our geography we are giving you permission to explore in a journey. We are not your pitstop so you cannot just drive though. Your bodily app cannot find the woman of your dreams if you have offloaded your thinking to that same blood-powered app. Female biology likes you because for now, we are out of choices as genetically, the next ones are chimps and bonobos.
And for the ladies, forge on. Men will catch up, eventually, at least those who will ask for directions.
Happy Women’s Month. – Rappler.com