Let me start off by saying that when this happened, I was 20, fresh from a breakup with a boyfriend of four years, and desperately wanting to just move on already.
I was also relatively inexperienced in bed; at the time, I had only slept with one guy, my ex of four years. And we were in a long-distance relationship, so it’s not like we were banging like rabbits every day.
It was about a month after my breakup when Fin*, this guy I knew from high school, sent me a message on Facebook asking me how I was. He had liked me back in high school, but I didn’t really give him the time of day because I was also in a relationship then. But when that message came soon after my last breakup, I found myself thinking, “Why not?”
We got to talking, and I found out that Fin had a great sense of humor. When he asked me out to dinner, I said yes. On our first date, he continued to crack me up. He was trying to cheer me up because he knew that I was fresh from a breakup, and I appreciated the effort. I ended up having fun on that first date, and while I certainly wasn’t over my ex yet, at least I was starting to see promise in other men.
From then on, Fin and I started texting nonstop. I knew that I shouldn’t be jumping into anything so quickly because I was still not over my ex, but it felt good to feel wanted again. Fin knew all the right words to say to me, and whether or not he meant them didn’t matter—I lapped up his words. When he invited me out for dinner again, I said yes.
On our second date, he was as sweet and funny as he was the first time. After dinner, he suggested we grab drinks. Once we were settled at the bar, that’s when the atmosphere changed.
He told me that I would never regret sleeping with him because he would do his best to please me.
As we downed bottle after bottle, he started being touchy with me. He also took the conversation to more intimate territory, asking me what I liked about my last ex and what stuff we did in bed. He told me that I would never regret sleeping with him because he would do his best to please me. I was growing uncomfortable and getting terribly drunk—a bad combination—so all I could do was laugh. Then he kissed me. By then, we were both drunk, and I admit I was getting horny. The next thing I knew, we were inside a room in a motel.
It started out far from the night of pleasure he had promised; the foreplay did nothing for me. I didn’t take a good look at his penis when he got undressed, so when he got on top of me and started thrusting, I thought he was just dry-humping me because I couldn’t feel anything inside. When we switched places and I went down to blow him, that’s when I saw it.
His erect penis was about as long as my pinky finger.
Now, I have to take a break from my story to tell you what a micropenis is. According to Health.com, it’s a penis that measures under 2.8 inches when erect. I wasn’t toting a ruler with me then, obviously, and I’m in no position to diagnose him as having a micropenis—a condition that affects 1.5 in 10,000 born male children, according to the same Health.com article. But what I can tell you is that his erect penis was about as long as my pinky finger. Whether or not he has an actual micropenis or just a really, really small peen is for the doctors to decide.
Of course, I learned all that much later. As we fumbled in that motel room, I didn’t yet know what a micropenis was. I had only slept with one other guy before—my last ex who, in comparison, was definitely hung—so I didn’t know enough to go judging which peen was average and which was not.
I sucked it up, so to speak, and went to town with that blowjob. Giving Fin head was a piece of cake because I had no trouble putting his penis in my mouth, and soon he was raving about my BJ skills. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was doing so well because his peen was so small. I just wanted the whole thing to be over.
When we left the motel, it was already morning. We shared a cab going home. Throughout the cab ride, he held my hand, although I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to talk to him. His place was nearer, so he got off first. Before he got out, he kissed me on the forehead.
I was young, inexperienced, clueless—casual sex just didn’t seem like me.
After that night, Fin continued to text me, but I no longer replied. It wasn’t just the small penis that put me off; what bothered me more was my shame at what I had done. I was young, inexperienced, clueless—casual sex just didn’t seem like me.
After a few days of him reaching out and getting no reply, I finally texted him. I apologized and told him that my ex and I had gotten back together. I felt bad about lying, but I just wanted him to back off. He replied and said he was willing to stick around and be the “kabit.” His words, not mine. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.
It wasn’t until two years later when I finally told a few friends about Fin’s penis. Up until that moment, I had thought that his penis, while certainly not average, was normal. But what even is “normal?”
And truth is, whatever the size of his penis, it ultimately wasn’t the thing that turned me off.
Last thing I heard about Fin was that he was married and had a baby, so if we’re talking biological functions here, his parts seem perfectly functional. And truth is, whatever the size of his penis, it ultimately wasn’t the thing that turned me off. I did find him funny and sweet, and if circumstances were different, I would’ve gone out with him again—although I certainly wouldn’t have slept with him right away. But that’s not what happened, and what did happen wasn’t a proud moment for me. I felt like I used him in my haste to get over my ex—and he was more than a willing participant, jumping on me when he knew perfectly well that I was still nursing fresh wounds from my last relationship.
When he said he didn’t mind being the kabit, it was just too much. I didn’t think I could bear to look at him with fresh eyes after that. I would always be reminded that we used each other, and those memories would always be tinged with shame.
Despite everything, I wish him the best. I hope he’s happy. With all the societal pressure on men to be well-endowed, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for a man, to feel that you can never measure up to some standard everyone else holds.
That is, if he even knows he has a small penis. We never got far enough into what we had for me to find out.
*Names have been changed