Seven Centimeters Of Odor
(NOTE: This essay is part of a group of essays, written roughly between 1993 and 1997, which I privately call “The Receipts.” They were essays written when I was an unquestioning lad engaging with the world in pure shock-jock mode, and if you want proof that I used to be an absolute dingbat, well… Here’s the receipts.
(It’s essays like these in part that made me create the BS-O-Meter plugin for my site, where I said:
(In this case, I left these essays up because I don’t believe in deleting past stupidity. If you wish to use this as proof that Past Ferrett was an idiot, well, I won’t disagree with you. If you wish to use that as proof that Current Ferrett is an idiot, well, I can’t blame you.)
One of the foulest jokes in existence goes like this:
A son goes up to his father and son and says,
“Dad, what does a vagina look like?”
The father replies, “Before or after sex?”
The son thinks for a moment and says, “Before.”
“Son, the vagina before sex is a delicate rose, each fold like a blushing petal, warm and luscious to the touch.”
“Oh,” says the son. “So what’s it like after sex?”
The father thinks for a moment. “Did you ever see a bulldog eating mayonnaise?”
Okay, you probably laughed; but it just goes to show you how vaginas have gotten a notoriously bad rap in the joke industry. From the blind man who passes the fish market (“Hello, ladies!”) to the joke about the lady with a chronic yeast infection and a very cheap bakery, you’d think that every pussy was a dank, fleshy cavern that stank like the dumpster at a Chinese food restaurant.
And yet – it’s not true. Men will endlessly talk about the difference in penis size, but each quim has its own unique characteristics that appear on no other woman.
Look. This might sound silly. But I am a man whose friends consider him a complete and utter slut, having explored more holes than a tenured spelunker – and I am a connoisseur of cunts. (This is not bragging, incidentally. It’s easy to get laid in massive amounts. All you have to do is be pathetically desperate and willing to blindly overlook massive personality or physical flaws. I would have changed a paraplegic’s colostomy bags if I thought I could sneak in a quick fuck when she was asleep.)
But the fact is, my wife didn’t know about her uniqueness. Most of my girlfriends didn’t know. And if you’re a girl it’s time you knew – each woman’s vagina is as distinct as her face or her fingerprints. Each pussy is unique.
(As a matter of fact, I once tried pitching vaginaprints to the police in lieu of using fingerprints for identification. They told me, dourly, that it was rather unlikely that any woman would leave vaginaprints at the scene of a crime – to which I replied, “Yeah, but think of the fun you’d have booking people!”
(Months later, when most of the injuries from the beating had subsided, I still thought it was a good idea but I kept my mouth shut. Mostly because my jaw was still wired shut.)
(And while we’re on the topic? I’m not a consistently gay man so I don’t know whether every man’s asshole is unique, too. It could be. What I do know, however, is that I pity gay men who are the catchers, not the pitchers, if ya know what I’m saying.
(Because being on the receiving end of anal sex is a lot of work. For one thing, you can’t get away with a casual wiping anymore. Hey, man, someone might be fingering you down there, and you don’t want his index finger coming out looking like a Fudgesicle, do you? No skidmarks for you, pally ? from now on you scour. And then there’s the dietary requirements ? I don’t know what it’d be like to fart when a guy’s chicken-stuffing your butt, but I suspect it’s something a gay guy avoids eating beans for just in case. And then there’s hemorrhoids. Face it, the upkeep on a good and regular anal plowing is more than you really wanna have to deal with.
(Then again, you might not want to face it. Especially if he’s been eating beans. And yet I digress.)
In any case, there are several areas where various vaginas vary:
Odor. We’ve already done the fish joke, so we can skip past that. But the fact is that women are like deodorant ? they come in scented and nonscented. (The difference, of course, being that women rarely exude a fresh pine scent unless you’ve gotten way out of control fucking in the woods.)
Strangely enough, it’s the nonscented ones that are troublesome. Men expect a vagina to be a bit aromatic, and when it doesn’t happen it’s disconcerting.
For one thing, one of the rare pleasures of sex for a guy is leaving the house, going to work, and smelling the sex on his fingers. Hey, why do you think we never wash our hands?
We don’t talk about it ? at least, not those of us who get laid regularly ? but it’s one of those little joys in life, like cleaning your ears out with a Q-tip or that little shiver you get when you piss sometimes. You don’t seek it out, but there it is. It makes you happy. Screwing a woman who has nothing is like fucking a ghost.
Also, there is the oral sex problem. Not to put too fine a point on it, oral sex is kind of repetitive. And you’re in an uncomfortable place. I mean, not that women don’t have their own problems breathing while blowing guys, but we’re wedged in tight between your legs like Scotty trying to fit into one of the Jeffries tubes during a pitched Klingon battle. And I’m not talking 1960s’ slim-style Scotty, either. Our necks hurt, our backs hurt, our tongues hurt because you keep insisting on wiggling out of the way? basically, it’s trouble.
The one real relief is taste.
It may sound funny, but without the taste we’re basically licking a patch of fur. It’s like licking your dog’s stomach. We need a little something extra to get us going. Then we can try to judge? “Hmm, does this slightly acidic taste mean that she’s excited? Or simply that she ate ham?”
And yes, there are women who taste like a swarmful of dead flies have lodged in their uterus. Men will never tell you unless you’re the brutally honest sort who says, “Yes, length does matter – and I love you anyway, stumpy.” And if that’s the case, then you’ve probably got more pressing concerns on your hands than a whiffy watering hole.
However, if your man dons a gas mask before cunnilingus, it’s probably a sign, okay?
Thatch.
While we’re on the topic of hair – it’s the one thing every woman knows about in detail. “Am I too hairy?” Almost every extended partner has asked me this at some time or another? and, much like the answer to “Do I smell bad?” the answer is always, “You’re just right.”
We’re lying. But it’s for your own good.
A certain amount, as with scent, is expected. But some women are so hirsute that it’s like they’re smuggling Tribbles between their thighs. You can usually tell from looking at their face ? if they have a bleached mustache, it’s a guarantee they have a little treasure trail running from their bellybuttons down to their clits. (If they can’t bleach their mustache – or if they have razorburn ? expect to see an Appalachian trail of a bearded stomach, leading the way down to a quim you’re gonna need a machete to get to.)
I’m not against a little bit of hairiness, but if when I start going down on a woman I have to restrain myself from crying out, “Br’er Fox! Doan throw me in de briar patch!”, then you know there’s trouble.
Of course, the other side has its disadvantages, too. Women with little to no hair have no buffering against the elements ? and as such tend to get delicate rugburns at the most awkward times, especially if you haven’t shaved recently. They’re far too sensitive about these things, but since the alternative is a callus on their clitoral hood, I guess it’s not all bad.
(Incidentally, most women realize that men love a freshly-shaved pussy ?but fail to recognize that we hate it when you shave it, then bitch about it continually for the next three weeks about how it itches when it grows back. If you shave, suffer in silence. So says The Ferrett.)
But don’t think that it’s the simple presence or absence of hair that distinguishes a vagina. Some women have female pattern baldness. Some have little tufts of hair in a different color. Some have hair that butterflies out to their thighs, others have neat little cornrows around the labia.
The textures of pubic hair are extremely varied as well, except I’ve found they’re all alike when they get caught in the back of your throat.
Frankly, I’ve come to thinking of vaginas as unique little gardens, with a well in the middle and little rows of grass around the edges. Some are well-cultivated, others left to grow wild? and there’s pleasure to be had from all of them.
Call me Chauncey.
Lips.
You’ve noticed some women have big puffy lips that stick out like Mick Jagger, while others have thin lips that need lipstick to be noticed. There is no correlation, but there are “innies” and “outies” when it comes to pussies.
Now frankly, I know this is a matter of preference among men. Personally, I prefer to have all of the internal plumbing kept inside so I can concentrate on the essentials. But one of the downsides to having my own web page is having to do scientific research ? and it was with great regret that I set out to read approximately four hundred porno mags to find out what men like.
During my research, I discovered:
- Approximately 70% of all hot chicks are definitely shaved.
- Of those, 65% have such great big honkin’ pussylips that it looks like their vagina has swallowed Daffy Duck from the bottom up, leaving only the bill sticking out sideways.
- Women apparently enjoy lounging around the house naked with their legs wrapped casually behind their heads.
- If the postman comes, women will look shocked and then fuck him.
There were many more great discoveries I would have made while reading porno mags, but my wife came home unexpectedly and took them all away from me. She’s still reading them.
But my research proved to me that my personal tastes aren’t like most men. Me, I like little tiny labias. They’re compact. They’re easy to maintain. They’re also easy to please, since the clitoris is usually more exposed.
However – I have long thought the vast majority of men were idiots, and here’s the proof. All the porno pictures I’ve seen feature spreadlegged women with quims that look like fleshy pancakes are hanging out of them. I hate going down on women like that. It’s like playing the harmonica sideways. And yet the same guys who like silicone-injected tarts who look like Barbie with nipples apparently really get into large, elephant-eared pusses. Who am I to disagree?
But the point here is that women’s vaginas are different. If you yourself need a bale of twine to stuff yourself into your panties, you may have a future in pornography. Tell ’em I sent you.
Clitorises.
Since I’ve been so verbose on the previous topics, suffice it to say that ? again, much like bellybuttons ? there are “innies” and “outies”. Some stick out like a fleshy marble. Others are recessed so far in that it takes a Gene Simmons-style tongue to pleasure them. Some are covered by thick hoods that require some serious tongue-twisting to get under; other vaginas, made more user-friendly by God, have recessed clits that pop out like the temperature gauge on a Butterball turkey whenever they get excited.
Vive la difference. They’re all fun. However, here’s a handy tip for you guys: The style of the clit determines the primary method of access.
(Another digression: “Style of the clit”? Did I actually say that? Doesn’t this sound like something Buick is working on? “Straight from Detroit, it’s the new Year Two-Thousand Model Clits! Now, this stylish model has a sleek design and a swept-back hood for each access?.”)
What do I mean by “style determines access”?
Simply this:
The majority of women’s complaints are that men are too rough or too gentle down there. If you note that a woman has an exposed clit, you can usually guess that it’s fairly sensitive, since it’s out there all the time. Inversely, if a woman has a recessed hotspot then you can go to town. Heck, she’s got cushioning.
In other words, play it smart. You mash it like it’s the button on an elevator you’re desperately trying to summon to your floor, you’re gonna lose. But if you pretend it’s a cute little bunny, you’ll generally do all right. Just? be careful out there.
Tightness.
Yes, some women are looser than others. We don’t talk about it that much, really.Frankly, we’re just happy to be there.
Well, that’s pretty much all I had to say about the vagina. And you may note that I avoided the obvious joke about it being an in-depth topic. Thank you.