Crotch Watchers

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But Bandler gestures with her hand and insists, "The individual guy, if you say, I give you a thumbs-up, then everything is fine."

Both women burst into hysterical laughter.

Skeptical, I take their thumbs-up philosophy to the streets.

Cooling it at the bar of the white-collar pickup joint Big City Tavern (609 E. Las Olas Blvd., Fort Lauderdale ), I'm skimming the book over a rum and coke when a not physically unattractive, middle-aged man with spikey brown hair and booze on his breath, whom I'll call Bad Boy II, approaches and begins reading over my shoulder. When I don't react, he begins jabbing my torso like I'm the fucking Pillsbury Doughgirl.

A leisure-class man by disposition and his own assertion, he is confident and playful. After I explain the book's premise, he takes to the idea of having his penis sized up with amusement.

He stands five feet nine. I assess his limbs, neck, and hands relative to his stature.



"My arms are normal," he says. "After you guess the number, we'll go into the bathroom and see whether you're wrong or right. So, what's the number? How many inches?"

Hang on to your britches, buddy. "What we're going for here," I inform him, "is more of a ballpark estimate."

A curly, blond female barkeep is looking down her nose at our conversation until I start spilling out the details of the algorithm. For a moment, she listens raptly. Then she nods as if she's heard most of it before and walks away.

After applying the formula, I say to him, "I would say you're average."



"What's average?" he asks.

According to the book, the range of the "average" penis is 4.5 to 6.4 inches.

"What's the girth?" he asks.

"For you, it seems average as well."

"You're right. You're exactly right," he says, claiming to be on the long side of average. "But it's not the meat -- it's the motion."

On a lame-joke kick, he continues: "A hooker takes a guy up to her room, and he takes his pants off. She starts laughing hysterically and says, 'Who do you think you're going to please with that little thing?' He looks at her with a straight face and says, 'Me.' And he's right. Because you know, honestly, when it comes down to the end result, most guys, all they care about is coming."

Fabulous.

On to his friend, Boulevard Bob.

He's six feet tall, but his short, stubby fingers and long neck, two of several factors in the formula, don't agree.

"You're neck contradicts your hands," I say.

Bad Boy II pops his head over my shoulder and says, "I'd say that it's only about an inch and a half long."

Boulevard sips his cocktail coolly.

"I would say you're average length, above average girth."

He forms an L with his thumb and index finger and says, "I'm from here to..." He holds his other finger an inch above his hand, "... here."

"So, 7.5 inches?" I ask.

Matter-of-factly he says, "No, six and a half."

"God, you're cool under pressure," I say.

"That's because I have no problem with my manhood."

"So, it doesn't bother you that women might be walking around assessing your physical person?"

"No. I mean, I probably have sex a couple of hundred times a year."

"So you're a pickup artist," I suggest.

"No, I have some girls that I see on a regular basis and some new girls that I meet, and it just happens." He smiles. "I can charm my way in, though, you see."

I ask him about sexual incompatibility.

"Only to the extent that the woman might not have been with a lot of men," he says. "Sex is a wonderful thing. I think it's more technique than size. You have to know how to work it. Look, I'm an older guy."

I return to Bad Boy II to ask him whether he's ever had incompatibility.

He stares at me blankly.

I try, "Are you suddenly getting anxious that we're talking about your penis?"

"No, I'm not anxious," he says, walking toward me, a drunken smirk overtaking his face.

"Is your pulse heightening and your forehead beading with sweat?" I ask.

He answers a question with a question as he begins to crowd my personal space, causing me to walk backward with only my tape recorder for protection. "Is your forehead beading with sweat because I'm standing too close to you? Are you starting to get hot and wet? Now tell me the truth."

I reply, "You know I have this all on tape."

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Courtney Hambright