A larger penis does not have universal a-peel. Photo / 123RF
This is it. I've been fantasising about this moment all night.
I can barely contain my excitement as I unbuckle Tom's belt ... Oh, my.
Admittedly, I didn't pay a lot of attention during maths class, but I'm pretty sure what I'm witnessing equals more cubic units than I can physically accommodate.
Sweet mother of Oprah. Now what?
This is why Mum warned me not to order the large sundae at McDonald's. My appetite always did supersede my body's capacity for indulgence.
I beeline it for the bathroom, flinging my back against the door once inside.
One of the drawers in the vanity is slightly ajar.
Inside it, a black box embossed with indistinct gold font catches my eye. I do what any self-respecting person in a stranger's bathroom would do – and pry it out for a closer look.
The bottom gives out.
Reels of foil pouches escape and unfurl onto the tiles in prophylactic pinwheels. The writing on the box is clear now. It reads: "XXL: Extra-large condoms for big time pleasure."
Where did he even find these? At a store that makes contraception that doubles as a tarp?
"Everything OK in there?" comes a shout from across the hall.
Everything is most certainly not OK.
I sweep up the scattered condoms and push them back into the box, before casually returning to the bedroom, as though I haven't just seen my entire sex life flash before my eyes.
Despite popular folklore, men with large penises are not every woman's dream.
Sure, there are many instances where bigger is better – pay cheques, all-you-can-eat buffets, pockets ... But a guy's junk is not one of them.
For starters, there's the issue of basic mathematics. No amount of careful geometric equations are going to make a Coke can fit into a coin slot. Just saying.
Just as nine-inch heels are sexy until you own a pair and discover every step is a minefield of pain, the prospect of a torn Achilles, and buyer's remorse, guys with big you-know-whats rarely live up to the hype.
In Sex And The City, Samantha Jones once hypothesised attractive men are bad in bed because of their lack of experience having to actually work for anything. I'd argue guys who own boxes of XXL condoms should be included in the same category.
And yet, the mythology of the well-endowed man as a kind of sexual god is as old as time itself.
Early cave paintings depict male figures with oversized appendages to symbolise fertility and virility, and Renaissance art is a homage to the codpiece – a 16th-century accessory designed to emphasise the male crotch as a nod to sexual dexterity and masculinity.
Even the 90s beloved sitcom character George Costanza from Seinfeld couldn't escape the pressure to measure up.
In a memorable episode, he's caught undressing by Jerry's new girlfriend, who can't contain her laughter upon seeing his penis. George later defensively explains he's a victim of "shrinkage".
The joke is implicit: Small penises belong to pathetic, sexless men, and as such, are worthy of mockery. Cue laugh track.
Everyone knows, if you want to emasculate a man, there's no better way to do so than publicly declaring you'll need to "use some tweezers" or "find a microscope" to view his genitals. Because men with small penises might as well be women – and we all know there's nothing worse than being compared to a woman!
But while men continue to fixate on one another's crotches, research shows they're actually operating with very similar equipment.
A comprehensive report compiling data from 17 studies and more than 15,000 men determined the average erect penis is 13.12cm, and deviations from this vary by just an inch-and-a-half for roughly 80 per cent of men. (Incidentally, it's always good to know assuaging the male ego is still a priority in medical research.)
Regardless, even the most impressive penis won't make a difference in the bedroom for the estimated 75 per cent of women who can't reach climax via penetration alone.
So, where does this leave us?
One might determine it's our social construction of masculinity that needs further examination, not men's genital measurements. That, as long as we tie what it means to be a man to arbitrary figures like the number of women he's bedded or how big his package is, we'll continue to perpetuate the same toxic ideals around manhood that got us here in the first place.
Of course, what would I know. I'm just a woman who's trying to get by without ever having to see a monster penis again.
The 100-year-old club in Rotorua that's still going strong.