I posted this in 'my boyfriend/husband is bigger than yours' but I think it needs its own thread. I hope you'll agree:
Of all the people with whom I might have discussed size, I would have said the least likely was Rachel. Although we had been girlfriends since we were 4 or 5 in Brooklyn, Rachel was raised in an extremely orthodox Jewish household. She grew from a polite, quiet, diffident girl into a placid, dutiful woman who married very young, moved straight from her parents' home into her husband's and had a bunch of children right away. She is the epitome of a frum wife -- she keeps house, tends to the kids and treats her husband like her lord and master. I went off to college, got a job and an apartment by myself in Manhattan. I dated a lot before meeting my current boyfriend. When Rachel and I talked on the phone (and on the rare occasions she was able to meet for lunch or coffee), she always expressed a lot of interest in my social life. She found some of it absolutely hilarous, particularly what she politely referred to as my "adventures" -- meaning my very active, somewhat serial sex life. Although she would blush and protest if it got graphic, she loved to hear about what I had done and where I had done it. Given the old-fashioned, patriarchal world in which she lived, her mouth would drop open when I commented unfavorably on the appearance, cleanliness or performance of the men I bedded. She was too good a friend to be critical and, in any event, is one of the most non-judgmental people I know. Her frequent comments about how happy she was in marriage all seemed to be made in the spirit of trying to bring me around to her point of view. From where I sat, she was a little wistful about having settled into marriage and motherhood without having had any "adventures" of her own -- although I thought her upbringing and temperment probably would have made having many of them very unlikely.
We were having coffee last Tuesday and the subject of my dating eventually came up. Rachel was surprised to learn that I was dating my current boyfriend, Tommy, exclusivley and had been doing so for several months. She asked if she heard wedding bells. I laughed and said no but that I really liked him, that he was a good person, that we seemed very compatible. We shared lots of common interests.
"And" I said, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "The sex is fantastic!"
"Really?" she said a little too quickly. I knewing she loved to hear this stuff but wouldn't ask for details. As usual, I was happy to give them any way.
"Oh, I've heard all that from you before" Rachel said. "What makes Tommy so special?"
"Well, he's very giving. Very attentive. Very strong -- He has a great body."
Her silence meant that she wanted more.
"Nice shoulders, lean muscles. Slender but toned." I was actually falling into a bit of a reverie thinking about him and the next words just slipped out.
"And he's big".
"I thought you said he was slender" Rachel cut in.
For once, I was the one who blushed. "He is slender. And big. Really big. You know, Rachel, down there."
Based on past experience, this should have been where Rachel laughed and chided me for being wanton. Instead, she looked me square in the eye.
"How big?"
Her tone was so serious that I was the one who laughed. But I could see she really wanted to know.
"Jeez, Rachel, it's not like I've measured him".
"Show me" she demanded.
"I shouldn't have said anything. This is ridiculous".
"Show me. Please! Like this?" and she held up her thumb.
"Oh. honey, no" I smiled. "More like this"
And I held up my hands, palms faced inward, about eight inches apart. Which, if anything, is probably an under-estimate.
"You're lying!" she said. She sounded angry about it.
"Rachel! I've never lied to you about anything!"
"Well, I don't believe you." she started to get up abruptly.
I could see she was on the verge of tears but I didn't have a clue why. I jumped up and grabbed her arm.
"Rachel, please. What's this about?"
"You are just making fun of me!" she yelled. "Just trying to get back at me because I've been blessed with a husband while you run around like a... like a hussy!"
I don't think I've heard anyone use the word "hussy" in about twenty years. I couldn't help myself and started laughing.
Thankfully, after a moment, Rachel laughed too. She brushed her eyes and smiled, although a bit forlornly.
"I'm sorry" she said. "I really do have to go."
"Rachel, if there's something you want to talk about..."
"It's nothing. I shouldn't have gotten upset over your joke".
I was concerned for my friend. I also knew her well enough to know that the subject would be buried forever if I didn't jump on it. So I did.
"Rachel, I wasn't joking".
Again, anger crossed her face. Then she thrust out her jaw and said, "Well, you're just going to have to prove it then".
"Prove it?"
"Yes, prove it. I want to see for myself". She glared at me for another moment, turned on her heel and walked out onto the street.
I've called Rachel several times in the last four days but she wouldn't pick up my call. Whe she knew I would be at work, she left me a voicemail that she wouldn't speak to me again until I was ready to "show her the goods".
I honestly don't know what to do. I am sure there something quite wrong and I don't want to lose my friend. But the idea of showing off Tommy, even a photograph -- and that assumes he'd agree -- seems, well, strange.
From this and other threads I've read here, it seems many of you have found yourselves in somewhat similar situations. I'd be grateful for any suggestions.
Thanks.
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Of all the people with whom I might have discussed size, I would have said the least likely was Rachel. Although we had been girlfriends since we were 4 or 5 in Brooklyn, Rachel was raised in an extremely orthodox Jewish household. She grew from a polite, quiet, diffident girl into a placid, dutiful woman who married very young, moved straight from her parents' home into her husband's and had a bunch of children right away. She is the epitome of a frum wife -- she keeps house, tends to the kids and treats her husband like her lord and master. I went off to college, got a job and an apartment by myself in Manhattan. I dated a lot before meeting my current boyfriend. When Rachel and I talked on the phone (and on the rare occasions she was able to meet for lunch or coffee), she always expressed a lot of interest in my social life. She found some of it absolutely hilarous, particularly what she politely referred to as my "adventures" -- meaning my very active, somewhat serial sex life. Although she would blush and protest if it got graphic, she loved to hear about what I had done and where I had done it. Given the old-fashioned, patriarchal world in which she lived, her mouth would drop open when I commented unfavorably on the appearance, cleanliness or performance of the men I bedded. She was too good a friend to be critical and, in any event, is one of the most non-judgmental people I know. Her frequent comments about how happy she was in marriage all seemed to be made in the spirit of trying to bring me around to her point of view. From where I sat, she was a little wistful about having settled into marriage and motherhood without having had any "adventures" of her own -- although I thought her upbringing and temperment probably would have made having many of them very unlikely.
We were having coffee last Tuesday and the subject of my dating eventually came up. Rachel was surprised to learn that I was dating my current boyfriend, Tommy, exclusivley and had been doing so for several months. She asked if she heard wedding bells. I laughed and said no but that I really liked him, that he was a good person, that we seemed very compatible. We shared lots of common interests.
"And" I said, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "The sex is fantastic!"
"Really?" she said a little too quickly. I knewing she loved to hear this stuff but wouldn't ask for details. As usual, I was happy to give them any way.
"Oh, I've heard all that from you before" Rachel said. "What makes Tommy so special?"
"Well, he's very giving. Very attentive. Very strong -- He has a great body."
Her silence meant that she wanted more.
"Nice shoulders, lean muscles. Slender but toned." I was actually falling into a bit of a reverie thinking about him and the next words just slipped out.
"And he's big".
"I thought you said he was slender" Rachel cut in.
For once, I was the one who blushed. "He is slender. And big. Really big. You know, Rachel, down there."
Based on past experience, this should have been where Rachel laughed and chided me for being wanton. Instead, she looked me square in the eye.
"How big?"
Her tone was so serious that I was the one who laughed. But I could see she really wanted to know.
"Jeez, Rachel, it's not like I've measured him".
"Show me" she demanded.
"I shouldn't have said anything. This is ridiculous".
"Show me. Please! Like this?" and she held up her thumb.
"Oh. honey, no" I smiled. "More like this"
And I held up my hands, palms faced inward, about eight inches apart. Which, if anything, is probably an under-estimate.
"You're lying!" she said. She sounded angry about it.
"Rachel! I've never lied to you about anything!"
"Well, I don't believe you." she started to get up abruptly.
I could see she was on the verge of tears but I didn't have a clue why. I jumped up and grabbed her arm.
"Rachel, please. What's this about?"
"You are just making fun of me!" she yelled. "Just trying to get back at me because I've been blessed with a husband while you run around like a... like a hussy!"
I don't think I've heard anyone use the word "hussy" in about twenty years. I couldn't help myself and started laughing.
Thankfully, after a moment, Rachel laughed too. She brushed her eyes and smiled, although a bit forlornly.
"I'm sorry" she said. "I really do have to go."
"Rachel, if there's something you want to talk about..."
"It's nothing. I shouldn't have gotten upset over your joke".
I was concerned for my friend. I also knew her well enough to know that the subject would be buried forever if I didn't jump on it. So I did.
"Rachel, I wasn't joking".
Again, anger crossed her face. Then she thrust out her jaw and said, "Well, you're just going to have to prove it then".
"Prove it?"
"Yes, prove it. I want to see for myself". She glared at me for another moment, turned on her heel and walked out onto the street.
I've called Rachel several times in the last four days but she wouldn't pick up my call. Whe she knew I would be at work, she left me a voicemail that she wouldn't speak to me again until I was ready to "show her the goods".
I honestly don't know what to do. I am sure there something quite wrong and I don't want to lose my friend. But the idea of showing off Tommy, even a photograph -- and that assumes he'd agree -- seems, well, strange.
From this and other threads I've read here, it seems many of you have found yourselves in somewhat similar situations. I'd be grateful for any suggestions.
Thanks.
