vertical. Jeroen on his guy’s size: “I know now, thanks to Gwidel Likens, that he’s OK” | Nina

Men and their penises, it’s a thing. We won’t talk about it amongst ourselves, about that accessory that sometimes seems to take on a life of its own and then refuse to serve at the worst possible moment.

You’re a late bloomer. You may know that. I had not yet entered physical adolescence when it was clear that the other boys in the volleyball club had already jumped on the bandwagon. I could see this with my own eyes when they showered without hesitation after a training session or competition.

I always go down fast. While I’m in the shower, I can do that at home, too. away from their curious looks. In my imagination looks ironic of course. Which will then culminate in an insulting sneer or an explosion of laughter. My body was limp from behind, but finally the puberty spurt came. Now my awful size will never be commended, but it is what it is and that’s okay Thanks to Goedele Liekens, who recently talked about it here.

Since the #MeToo movement, there has been a lot of controversy about men who — not constrained by any form of civilization — treat women in a primitive and, above all, sexually intimidating manner. Verbally and/or physically, to all possible degrees of undesirability. Rare are the stories of women attacking men with their humility.

So it is possible that I once came across such a copy, some 22 years ago. I was evening manager of the Theater Café of the Théâtre Kite in Brussels. People who have worked in the area sometimes come in for an aperitif after work. So is the brunette with ugly tattoos on her stomach. This ugly little thing yelled once when she—the last customer—climbed up behind the bar, turned on the music, and began dancing so gracefully. A little later, we each fell onto a bar stool. Don’t ask me how that happened, but it soon came down to formats.

The brunette has stated in no uncertain terms that she loves her lovers immensely. “Well, massive is the last adjective I would use to describe my sword,” I laughed, thinking it was mainly for effect. But…then she immediately touched my crotch and weighed my goods. I found it to be very mild. Or very short, if you will. The brunette pulled out her hand, pulled herself into her coat, and hastily disappeared into the night.

Needless to say, it was an experience that played tricks on me for a while. Soon – we already met in the editorial office of “Het Laatste Nieuws” – I managed to tame the demonic figure a little. But I confess: every time I am with a new partner, that evening in Brussels has haunted me and I fear I will be robbed of my manhood again. Men and their penises, that’s one thing, I’m telling you.

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analytics. A male sexologist writes, “Ladies, if we could get our hands around your chest, it’s too small.” Do you repair commercial appliances? (+)