Meat Bingo

In giant letters, one of the flyers posted at my 7-11, it says “Meat Bingo!”

Then it gives details on location and admission costs ($20). Apparently, the bingo prizes are various cuts of meat.

But that wasn’t what I was thinking when I saw the flyer. I was thinking, “That would be a great title for my book about dating escapades.”

‘Cause, you know it’s meat. Plus the randomness of bingo as a game.

As much as we all like to check hands, feet and noses, you can’t really predict penis size undressed. You might get a good guess on length, but not on circumference. And let’s face it, there’s a reason “pencil dick” is an insult. So getting naked – playing Meat Bingo – with a partner is the best way to find out. This stresses some men out. They worry they’re not large enough. Or thick enough. Or whatever. Even if they don’t exactly worry about it, a lot of men would tell you that they wished to be a bit longer. Or thicker. Or whatever.

It’s akin to the silliness of women hating their breasts which is another waste of time. Most men are plenty big enough to reach the G-spot. And if the penis is at least as big as the index finger, there’s little reason to stress.

Sure, many women have an ideal version of the penis they may fantasize about – just like man fantasize about the perfect breasts or the perfect ass. Yet when you get down to it, skill and chemistry levels become far more important than size.

Besides, if you have enough great sex with someone, his penis becomes the ideal. And then guess what?  You’ve won Meat Bingo!



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'Meat Bingo' have 1 comment

  1. February 24, 2011 @ 2:38 am JR

    As a fairly average “grower”, I have to say I rather like mine as it is. It’s never gotten caught in a zipper, and I don’t have to decide which pant leg to route it down. I like to think of it as the travel model – conveniently sized for storage, but packs the same punch.

    Perhaps the perfect size depends on who you’re trying to get in the sack. I have no idea how size effects getting a woman to give you a chance – I’m not one, nor do I sleep with them. The nervous, and often first-time, gay boys I like bed, though, have been fervent worshipers of all six inches – and thanked God he stopped at that.

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