Rambo

Nothing about men ceases to amaze me. Just when I start to believe that there is some sanity in our world and I have met someone who sweeps me off my feet and is everything I ever dreamed of, he will undoubtedly do something so ridiculous that I will again question why humankind needs men for anything more than sperm donation. Yet again, I kissed a frog and he turned into an idiot instead Prince (which would have been amazing).

Not unlike many men I have met, my current boyfriend thinks that his penis is a separate member of society, equipped with a personality, likes, dislikes, and of course, a name. At first I was confused when he referred to a so-called “Little Bobby”, but my confusion quickly turned to repulsion as I realized he was referring to a body part generally considered private. I’m not repulsed by penises, per say, but the name Bobby rings and air of children and the idea that my 37-year-old manfriend named his grown-up body part Little Bobby resonated an uncomfortably icky feeling of pedophilia. Obviously, I had to put this flame out at once before either I became uncomfortable with him being naked, or my friends got wind of this and never let me live it down.

In a futile attempt to quash this foolishness, I quickly told my aging lover to stop this name calling at once. This is where I made my first mistake. The older and more experienced with men I get, the more I realize how similar they are to small children and puppies. If you pay attention to the things you don’t want them to do they just keep doing them. They are like puppies; simply in need of positive reinforcement of good behaviors and complete disregard to the bad behaviors.

My disapproving reaction to the name Little Bobby didn’t stop my man from naming his penis, but instead encouraged him to spark a debate of whether or not his member was a separate person with a mind of its own. As ridiculous as I think it is for him to insist that his genitals are a separate entity altogether, I couldn’t convince him otherwise. He told me to come up with a name. Laughing hysterically I told him to at least choose something less juvenile. I said to pick something manly, like Rambo. Well that opened a whole new door to hell that I was unaware existed up to this point. Let’s just say that now my aging lover doesn’t only consider his penis to have a brain, but it now has a personality. When I make fun of my boyfriend for naming below the belt, he informs me that, “Rambo doesn’t care what you think because he’s a warrior.” Awesome.