I was at the bar with friends—seven men and seven women—when Rachel asked me how I’m doing.
“My life is great! I’ve been having nonstop sex lately, and you know me, my No. 1 priority in life is my dick, so ….”
Rachel laughed. She and I are tight, so she has permission to mock me when she wants—within limits.
“That’s ridiculous!” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“You can’t have your dick as your No. 1 priority.”
“Why not?” I questioned.
“Because! What about life? What about work? What about love and friends and hobbies?”
“My dick is my hobby,” I said, laughing at myself for saying this. But it’s not untrue.
“I don’t understand why you think I’m saying something controversial,” I went on to explain. “It’s the world’s oldest cliche that we men think with our dicks. Every guy’s first priority is his dick. I’m not saying anything other guys wouldn’t say.”
Rachel, half-drunk, pursed her lips in comic disapproval.
“Doug, that can’t be true!” She responded.
This is when I got indignant and turn to our friends and yelled, “Hey, hey, hey! Guys! Guys! I need to ask y’all something.”
Everyone shut up and listened to me, the loudest person wherever we go.
“I need to do a survey of all the men here. I just told Rachel my dick is my No. 1 priority in life. She thinks I’m crazy. So guys, raise your hands if your dick is your No. 1 priority.”
The next thing that happened was my favorite result of any survey I ever conducted. Of all seven men, six of us raised our hands.
The only guy who didn’t raise his hand was Rachel’s boyfriend.
The women laughed uproariously. They couldn’t believe what they were witnessing, I guess.
“I don’t have a list of my life priorities,” she said. “But if I did, my vagina would be, like, 36th!”
And now I’m flabbergasted. “Thirty-sixth? What?”
“I just take my vagina for granted,” she said, “and it always works out.”
I then saw why Rachel’s cheating boyfriend unwisely convinced himself it’s OK to have sex with other women.
“I think you should stop taking your vagina for granted,” I told her. “You know, Rachel, everything in life is use-it-or-lose-it. You better use that thing while you can.”
She laughed again.
I’m aware that Rachel doesn’t represent all women.
My own long history with women flows like an index in a Tolkien tome, but suffice it to say I’ve come in close contact with many women who aren’t like Rachel—women who are sexaholics, professional masturbators and “super orgasmers,” or those who come hundreds of times a day.
Meanwhile, all men have verifiable physiological reasons to be dick-centric.
So let me drop some big dick insight on you.
First of all, as I said to Rachel, a mother of two boys, “Did you breastfeed your kids?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“What was it like when your boobs got full of milk, but you couldn’t get the milk out for some reason?”.
“It was excruciatingly painful,” she answered, grabbing her boobs and made an “ow-ey” face.
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what happens to men when we don’t get semen out of our bodies.”
“Oh. That makes sense,” she replied.
When we men don’t clear out our semen, doctors call that “semen retention,” and sometimes our balls hurt. “Blue balls” has an official medical name: epididymal hypertension. Neglect your dick long enough, and you get hyperspermia.
If our balls hurt, our kidneys hurt by extension, then we become bad men.
A man who doesn’t come enough is a man who can be more dangerous, more depressed, more evil, less patient, less giving, less forgiving, angrier, sadder, despondent, desperate and shittier.
When men reach age 50, many doctors tell us to ejaculate once a day to keep prostate cancer away. Why?
Because a 20-year Harvard study of 30,000 men found that guys may need to “turn on the sprinklers” a minimum of 21 times a month to claim up to a 31% reduced risk of prostate cancer.
The more men “shake hands with the milkman,” the better. Ejaculation flushes out potential carcinogens, and it keeps cellular turnover healthy. Plus, orgasms flood us with pair-bonding hormones and healthy chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, endorphins, prolactin, norepinephrine, vasopressin, nitric oxide, testosterone, Gamma-aminobutyric acid, and Adrenocorticotropic hormone and Melanocyte-stimulating hormone peptides.
So when we focus on our dicks and orgasms, it’s not because we’re dogs. It’s not because we lack restraint. It’s not solely because it’s the most fun thing in the world.
It’s like I told Rachel, “We have a biological imperative to get the come out of us so we don’t kill everyone and die.”
“All right, you’ve convinced me,” she agreed, ready to move on. “But I’m still going to take my vagina for granted, if that’s OK with you.”
