Phallus and I
Phallus, a symbol of fertility, power and love, is close to our cultures whether we celebrate it or not. While men can possess a penis, none can really possess a phallus, though every man has a relationship with his other phallic self.
He thinks he has got my number, but really I know his game and what he’s all about. Ours is a relationship in which each of us thinks he’s in control. And that is essentially the nature and probably the sole objective of our relationship — simple assertion of one’s will over the other. It’s phallus or me.
Woman doesn’t relate much with her vagina. It’s just there and a useful part of her body. Man’s penis as well, is useful, cooperative and a team player with all the appendages and organs of the body.
Phallus though, without warning as a sniper lurking in the hills, when I least expect him or even want him, tumescent and demanding, he embodies my penis. At first, I notice he’s coming and then I have a decision to make. I have to choose either to ignore him or to entertain his demands. In the case of ignoring him, he sometimes quickly vanishes just as suddenly as he appears, but at other times, he’s assertive and demands my attention. Often, I must admit, I’m a pushover and gladly accommodate whatever it is that he wants.
To be fair, while he’s a sort of a bull, pushing and shoving his way into my awareness, in public, Phallus is a gentleman most of the time. Where he would be especially conspicuous, say in a nude sauna or on a beach, he prefers to keep his distance and others never see him. Even if there are attractive women, which one would think would beckon his presence, he remains in the background, quiet, waiting for a moment when he can have a word with me.
He seems to like reflective or restful moments for example while I’m reading, lost in thought, appreciating art or film, sitting on a bus or sound asleep. There’s seldom room for him, but he barges in and we wrestle and compete for the same space. If I’m in a museum and struck by beauty, he seems to appreciate it as well, and we both find a place to sit down until he’s finished looking. It just wouldn’t seem right to get in the way of others, so I accommodate him.
Phallus and The Threesome
Often when I’m sleeping in bed with my wife, just the two of us, I turn over and wake up to find that Phallus has joined us recently. We make room for him in the sheets, and the three of us drift off to sleep again. Often he’s there again in the morning and shares coffee with my wife and me. He’s usually only good for the first half cup and then he’s mysteriously off to some other business.
Most of the time he’s a good sport when there’s play to be had. He wriggles himself into the middle of the fun and shows us what he can do which sometimes leaves us shaking our heads saying, “Huh! Who would have thought it?” I puff out my chest at those times, and I’m especially fond of my friend.
Occasionally, Phallus is in a foul mood and wanders off somewhere. At those times I grow annoyed with him because he says in his pompous way, “You can’t play if I’m not there!” Well, I can and I do, but I never tell him it’s not the same without him.
We get along as long as Phallus does all the talking, and I just listen and keep quiet. I keep my game face on and never let him know what I’m thinking. After all, I need to keep the upper hand.