I get it that I’m an innie and not an outie and so it might be easier for you to forget about me. Penises flap around as a constant reminder as if they shout out with each step, “look at me! here I am!” but I stand back, you know? I’m patient. I’m kind and caring. Like a penis, a dog will bounce around at its owner’s feet, yelping for affection and approval while I sit, tucked in and politely wait to be petted.
But you know what? You rub me the wrong way or you ignore me for too long and somebody’s gonna get bit. I wait and I wait and I wait and then it just gets too damn long and I become unglued and all of a sudden it’s zero to a hundred and there are dead bodies everywhere and I’m being dragged away in cuffs.
I’m really not fussy about appearances; I simply need care. Let me know that you’re thinking about me. Bikini wax or Brazillion, whatever. Thong, full cheek undies or commando, doesn’t matter. Whatever it is you choose for me, make it count. And I don’t want to be lovely for sex, I want to be lovely for you.
I need you to know that I’m important. Wherever your heart and soul have been, I have been too. I practically house 99% of your sensory receptors and so whenever you feel anything, I take the hit. I feel the rush. I can tell when you’ve shut me down in some kind of protective mechanism. The signs are all there. I need to know that you view me as sacred because if I feel respected, then I know that you are okay.
I need you to be okay. I need you to love yourself, so that you can then love me.