My dick, Jesus, always my dick. I mean I know it's unusually big, and I know I can minimize its appearance with compression shorts or tight underwear, but as fucked up as it sounds, I still like to let it show. That, of course, means that other people look at it... and then they want to see me naked... and then they want this monster dick in them or on them or bouncing around for them to stare at. It is so easy to be admired, to be wanted, to grab attention with this dick. It messes me up.

So, when someone likes something else about me, even if it's just another superficial thing like the color of my eyes or the way my nipples show through my shirt, I'm almost thankful that they notice them before my dick has a chance to suck away all of their attention. It really does that.

Somebody is looking at my eyes and I know they want to say something about their color (and often they do), but then I stand up or move away from what was blocking a view of my crotch. If they have never heard about me and don't know me, it may take a while, but eventually they see it. Then it's good-bye eyes, good-bye biceps or tan or nipples, good-bye intelligent conversaton, and HELLO
BIG
FUCKING
DICK!

I've had people stop talking, completely lose their train of thought. Yeah, oh yeah, some primitive, instinctual part of me loves it. Sure, there are plenty of people who don't skip a beat, act like they haven't noticed, don't care about it, are into other things. Still, the ones who pause when they see it (and sometimes it is even people who've seen it before, and it still takes their breath away!) react in so many different ways. A few say something, like "Fuck! You must never sleep alone!" (but I do, plenty) or "Is THAT real?" (yes, and it isn't even hard yet!). Others start talking again but they've launched into different topics or their voices sound nervous. One time a girl just looks at it, stops talking, stares for a beat or two, and just turns and walks away.

What I like best, I guess, is (if they can't help stopping in mid-sentence) then if they smile, and then go on with the conversation. I don't know why exactly, but it's like they've acknowledged that it is special, but they have their wits about them enough to value ME and the conversation we're having... and really, that's when I start feeling appreciated is when someone truly sees past the dick, the nipples, the tan, the muscles... all the physical things, whether I was just born with them or I've worked on them... and sees ME... sees into my heart, catches a glimpse of my soul, recognizes a kindred spirit, a stretching mind... THAT feels good in a whole different way from when they are practically mesmerized by my dick.

The other things that I can't control, but that some people respond to almost as ridiculously as my dick showing in my pants, are like where I live and who my parents are. "Shit, dude, your house is right on the beach? You must be rich!" or "Your dad is that surfer guy, right? He's so freakin' wild. I love his articles. Do you ever surf with him?" or "Are you a culinary genius like your mother? We dine at the Beverly Plaza frequently, and she is fabulous! She always comes to our table to see how we've enjoyed our meal. Please give her my regards." Get real, people! I'm more than the son of two locally sortof famous (not rich!) people who have a house on the beach in Malibu (the smallest, oldest one that hasn't been hugely remodled or "enhanced").

I am a talented fuck, yes, but I also am creative, artistic, and getting appreciated for things that have nothing to do with where my house is or who mom and dad are (or how fucking big my dick is). I guess I could get an apartment and pretend I don't know who my parents are, but college is expensive, and I'm not into pretending.

The nice thing about being with Elize before and Madison now is that I can still be me, but when people get too goo-goo eyed about my dick or my house on the beach (like, they don't know much about me, but the little they know has convinced them we should be together?), I can just say
I'm already taken. That is comforting in a strange way to me, and it seems to take the pressure off of most other people too. They relax like they don't have to try so hard to get into my pants, and they can let themselves get to know more about the rest of me.

Okay, yeah, there are always the ones who keep trying, but I can joke with them about it or ignore them if they get obnoxious. Those people seem to bug me more when I am "available" because it feels like I don't have a good reason for not having sex with them. Sometimes when I'm not "taken" I fuck them or let them give me head or play a little with them, even though I don't particularly want to, but mostly, I feel like I am having to fight them off... and that is awkward... and sometimes it's hard to be very polite. I guess I never really thought about that aspect of having a partner.

I am still not so into Madison that I wish California allowed gay marriage just for our sakes or that I want to get an apartment with him, even, but it is nice to know I've got someone sortof special in my life. It's not just how talented he is with my dick, or how popular he is at college, or even how much my parents like him. He listens to me, and he talks seriously with me, and we share real ideas. Sometimes we have conversations that take us each from an idea we had alone to an even better one we had together... like that old adage, "The sum of the parts is greater than the whole." I like it. I just wish I felt as much in love with him as I did with Elize.

Student Senate has been fun. Even if I wasn't getting blown regularly by the Student Body President, it would be fun. I'll have to share more about that later.