Anonymous | Writer | Monday, 12 October 2015

Why Foreskin Freaks Me Out

Why Foreskin Freaks Me Out

The Debrief: Why I share Charlotte York’s struggle and sort of wish I could ask my boyfriend to get circumcised

Remember that Sex And The City episode where Charlotte makes the guy get circumcised because 'ew, it looks like a shar pei!' or those rumours about how Taylor Swift broke up with Harry Styles because he was 'uncut?' 

Yes. It sounds ridiculous but for some of us, the struggle is so real. My first serious boyfriend who I lost my virginity to was Muslim and unbeknownst to teenage me, Islam is the largest religious group to circumcise boys so my first ever experience of a penis was unknowingly with one that had been snipped. Seeing as penises in pop culture are 99% of the time circumcised (with Michael Fassbender in Shame as that glorious 1%), it looked normal to me. 

Then, came boyfriend number two: British but with an American dad. And although the rate of newborn circumcision is going down in America, it was still recorded at 77% in 2010 (as opposed to 83% in the 1960s), meaning if you end up in the sack with a Yank, he’s more likely than not to be snipped.  

Fast forward to me being a single, independent woman ready to experience my sexual awakening and I’m having a one-night stand with a Parisian because pourquoi pas? But I noticed something was different; suddenly that handjob was a lot easier and there was just. So. Much. Skin. What was I possibly going to do with it all? I did what any self-respecting woman would do and drank until it made sense. 

I obviously have a sign on my forehead that reads ‘no foreskin? No problem!’ because my next boyfriend was also freaking circumcised. Three boyfriends in a row! I was slowly being conditioned to only like circumcised dicks. Considering that recent figures from the NHS say that only 3.8 % of British male babies are now circumcised (down from 20% in the 1950s), the chance of this happening was slim. It’s not like I was dating particularly posh boys either. (The Royal Family and other such toffs used to circumcise their sons as a matter of 'class.') 

Plus, I had all my moves down. Blowjobs? Easy. Just focus on the tip. Handjobs? Fine, as long as I had lube. Sex? Epic. I’m talking marathon sessions since circumcised boys can last longer. This is thanks to their penis growing a protective film over itself meaning there’s more space between the nerve-endings and the surface and ample time for me to get mine.   

Now I’m in a long-term relationship with someone who isn’t circumcised and I admit the first time I saw his 'hooded' dick; I gasped, sighed and died a little inside. Flaccid, it looks like a shrivelly bald man in a nude-coloured onesie - it’s just not as aesthetically pleasing. And then I gave him a blowjob, assuming I needed to push his foreskin right down but that wasn’t right either. Confused, I went to give him a handjob but I suddenly was conscious to not pull his foreskin in one direction too much. Jobs aren’t meant to be such hard work, I decided. 'I’m going to have to break up with him!' I told my girlfriends who, having all only been with uncircumcised guys, don’t understand my plight one bit. 

I then got a yeast infection because uncircumcised penises are ideal breeding grounds for bacteria since moisture can get trapped in the foreskin and exclaimed, 'That’s it! I’m done!' Only problem? I actually like this guy (plus, I’m saving so much money not having to buy lube.) 

I still wonder why his penis insists on wearing a poloneck and it really does take everything in my power to not try and blow his flaccid foreskin up like a balloon (which my gay friend tells me is an actual move.) Maybe I should move to America. 

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