Ok…..well I’ll try to keep this story as simple and to the point as I know how.
My mother was a proud 1960s-70s protest movement activist, the youngest of 2 daughters of old-world fanatic Orthodox jews of Russian Ukranian origin. They were intent on giving me the exact same Hebrew upbringing as they had been raised with in Brooklyn, New York prior to WWII.
So when I was born my grandparents had already made all the arrangements to fly their chosen Moyle rabbi from NYC to SFO for the traditional Bris ceremony which was set for one week after I had been born.
But apparently the stonewall-resistance spirit of my mom’s inner protester had come roaring back to life upon my birth, because she made sure I never made it to that ceremony.
What would follow during my early years i can only describe here was lots of confusion and feigned ignorance by my parents feeding me misleading information about judaic cultural traditions, while the anger from my grandparents aimed at my mother was never ending & never explainable to me as to why they would be so angry at my mom yet unable to tell me why.
Years went by and I finally entered junior high school. By this time my grandparents were doing their best to salvage my Jewish education as I began preparing for a bar mitzvah ceremony, which to them included enrollment in the synagogues youth group activities. Sometimes the co-ed youth group would stage overnight sleepover events inside the synagogue social hall.
It was during one of these sleepovers that a girl I remember having a building crush on came and handed me a note that invited me to a game she and 6 other girls had secretly organized in the administrative office that night.
That game of course turned out to be truth or dare, my first time ever being invited to take part in.
It was this cute brunette girl who, like I said, I had been developing a serious crush on, who actually turned and asked me “your turn, truth or dare” - and of course my answer was Dare. She giggled softly as she looked back at her friends in the circle and dared me to drop trou and flash them.
I remember I was nervous as ever at that moment- and yet despite my anxiety I could feel that my adolescent cock had become fully erect and hard as a diamond. All the girls giggled at the growing bulge in my jeans as i stood up in front of them to carry out this dare. I remember one girl whispering to another just then, “Look at the front of his pants. That means he has to have a really big one.” More Giggles and excited laughter from the girls all around was the response to her observation.
A few seconds later my whole life would never be the same - both as a practicing jew AND as a young male in general.
I remember i had taken a deep breath and closed my eyes as I slid my pants and underwear down and felt the open air hit my erection as it was now exposed for all to see.
But instead of gasps of delight as I was expecting to get in response, I began hearing shrieking and “Oh god what’s that?!” & “Ewww what’s wrong with it” reactions. They still echo in my ears even today.
Word about that moment spread so quickly and far around the entire synagogue about that moment, by the next week the rabbi was in talks with my grandpa, awkwardly explaining why he had to cancel out my entire bar mitzvah ceremony in light of the events that had just effectively excommunicated me and my parents from the entire faith unwillingly.
And ever since that one dare I carried out all those years ago, there’s no question as to what my worst personal insecurity ever as a man has become.
It didn’t help that every girl who first displayed interest in any hooking up would also react in very similar ways.
Less-than-complimentary names like “Anteater” and “Sharpei” were what I continually began regularly getting called all the time by these girls.
Even when I finally lost my virginity at age 14, on that night even that girl had stated a few observations of her own on the side of humiliating.
And for the rest of my life until present day, a good 80% of all girls who would at first appear ready and willing would end up abruptly reversing any amorous intent into that of needing to leave quickly without explaining.
I believe I tried to make light of the whole issue by saying, “I’m a half breed. I’m a jew up to my face, but I’m all Irish below the waist”
I guess since then I’ve become more resigned to the fact that I’ll never fully fit the aesthetic description of what a “normal” man is to American born women.
And in fact, looking back now its an established fact that I’ve never really known just what exactly the definition of the word “normal” even means anymore tI believe I tried to make light of the whole issue by saying, “I’m a half breed. I’m a jew up to my face, but I’m all Irish below the waist”
damn that felt awkward AF to say again just now.
Not to mention the meaning and purposeful intent of my entire explanation was something I was too ashamed & embarrassed about to go state it like how I just did
I guess since then I’ve become more resigned to the fact that I’ll never fully fit the aesthetic description of what a “normal” man is.
At this point I’ve never known just what exactly the word “normal” even means anymore to most women in⁷ the united states.
Cuz to them I’ll always look disgusting and therefore 100% undateable - despite how much hygienic work I had always made a point of putting the effort into every day.
But As one seemingly horrified young lady once said as she hurried out the hotel room door, “Ugh…..Either get that thing sliced or its no dice.”
