Does circumcision damage a guy’s sensitivity? According to a study in yesterday’s Los Angeles Times, the answer is no. For the study, 4,500 sexually active Ugandan men gave up their foreskins in the name of science. After two years, the men reported that their rate of sexual satisfaction hadn’t changed.
Personally, I think this is great news — I love circumcised dicks. I didn’t realize this until last year, when I finally encountered a foreskin in the wilderness. Up until then, I thought uncut cocks were pretty much a fairy tale, something I had to Google for evidence that they actually existed. (I realize this is a distinctly American phenomenon; if I lived in Europe, I might very well have the opposite situation.) When I found that they are alive and well and even attached to hot guys, I realized that I’m not just inclined towards penises sans foreskin, I also actively dislike uncut ones.
And it has nothing to do with Judaism. Uncut cocks don’t look sexual or arousing to me. Rather, they make me want to pat them like a dog and tuck them back where they came from. This preference, which is much more definite than my feelings on the subject of height, hair color, religion or race, makes me feel quite shallow, but it’s unstoppable. If I had one of each kind in front of me to do a real side-by-side comparison, I could perhaps give a more thoughtful critique, but instead you’ll have to trust me. Which you should, since I’ve seen more than my fair share of penises. Only a small fraction of them were Jewish cocks, but all of them, as far as I can recall, had been cut.
Until last summer, when I found myself in the apartment of a man I’d been flirting with over email. Suddenly there it was, and I was faced with a dilemma I haven’t felt since I was a teenager: What to do? It seemed like a foreign creature, one that had only a vague resemblance to the organ I’d come to know and lust after.
Uncut cocks might be natural, but they seem like the very opposite to me. The foreskin gets in the way. It’s a pesky interference between me and what I really want. And it brings up every insecurity I have about sex.
I learned about sex — at least, heterosexual sex — from circumcised men. Give me a cut prick and I know what to do with it; I may not be the best a guy’s ever had, but I won’t be the worst. I know how to give a hand job or a blow job, and I like both those things. But the foreskin adds not only a literal extra layer, but a figurative one as well. I’ve been with two uncircumcised men now, and both times — even though we had a good time together and got each other off (though didn’t actually have intercourse) — I felt like a timid teenager. I felt like I needed Dr. Ruth leaning over my shoulder, showing me just where to stroke and pull. This kind of killed the mood.
I spent New Year’s in London with a British man who I’d met while he was visiting the States. Our initial hotel room trysts had been fast and furious, so I hadn’t truly had time to ponder what his cock looked like. When I found out, I was shaken up. Could I be attracted to the man, but not the penis? You can’t tell a man something like that. It’s like saying, “You’re too short, grow up already,” or that you wish he had heavy-metal band style long hair when he’s completely bald.
I’m not a man and am never going to be one, so I can’t speak to the experience of having a penis, but I can speak as someone who enjoys the sexual pleasures they can offer her. Being aroused by a lover happens not just when you’re together, but when you’re not. If the sex is good, it leaves you wanting more. It leaves you cooking up naughty scenes in your head. When you masturbate, he’s right there with you, the memory of his body so vivid it’s almost like the real thing, at least for me. If a guy’s cock turns me off, I won’t spend my free time fantasizing about it, even if the man himself makes me melt. It’s tough when I want to kiss every part of him but his penis.
And yet I wouldn’t reject a man simply based on the status of his foreskin. Recently I met a cute guy in an airport and wound up giving him a handjob under my coat. Because of the conspicuous nature of our surroundings, I never got to see his cock. He was from Costa Rica; I don’t know what the standard is there, but either way, I got him off. Maybe that’s the solution — if I wind up with a guy who’s uncut, I should just keep the lights off.
Counterpoint: In defense of foreskins