Why every woman wants a 'husband willy'.

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I used to think penis size didn't matter to me. I didn't want to discriminate based on the way someone's body naturally is. It goes against my values, and the way that I want the world to interact with me.

Plus, I always thought the penis size conversation was pretty stupid. Guys with big penises would rant and rave about how gigantic they were, while guys with small penises were trembling with the fear that they'd never get laid and peeing in toilet cubicles rather than urinals to avoid ridicule.But did the size of their penis actually make any difference at all? I'd often wonder, before I'd had sex with enough penises to really know. It's hard not to internalise the myth that bigger is better when that's all we're shown.

Porn has been teaching us for decades that a man's worth is measured in inches, that pleasure looks like a woman gasping as an impossibly large penis enters her. None of the porn I watched as a teenager ever featured a man with a small one. In fact, "You're so big!" was the universal porn compliment.

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Pop culture backed it up, too: Joey bragging about his "package" on Friends, Samantha Jones quipping "size does matter" over martinis in Sex and the City. Even when we knew it was exaggerated, those storylines made penis size feel like the ultimate marker of sexual success. Even my girlfriends seemed to buy into it, referencing "big d*ck energy" as a quality they required and describing partners as 'well-endowed' like it made up for their sh*t personalities.

So you can imagine my surprise, when I finally — and unexpectedly — found myself in bed with a man with a huge penis, and I… didn't love it. He warned me before I took his underwear off. "I have a bigger-than-average penis," he said tentatively. I rolled my eyes. Who does this guy think he is?

"I'm sure I can handle it," I replied, half-teasing, half-assuming it would be another average-sized penis I'd have to pretend was so big. But he wasn't lying — it was, without question, the biggest penis I'd ever seen. I was equal parts excited and nervous. Finally, I'd get to have the "big d*ck porn sex" everyone raved about. But how would it actually feel?

Spoiler alert: it kind of hurt. With a lot of lube and a fair bit of perseverance (and, let's be honest, a few glasses of wine), I did end up enjoying it. But it wasn't effortless sex — not the kind you melt into. I had to keep checking in with my body, making sure I was wet enough, that the angle was right, that I could stay emotionally present while managing the physical challenge of it.

I could feel my body stretching to meet his size, and while it wasn't entirely pleasant, there was pleasure within the pain. Like pushing through the last kilometre of a run, or sweating through the end of a Pilates class — except this was the sex version.

"Porn has been teaching us for decades that a man's worth is measured in inches," writes Laura Roscioli

I liked the challenge. Maybe that's why people in the kink world talk about the way pain and pleasure can intertwine; the way release sometimes requires resistance. For me, it felt similar to being slapped during sex — something I enjoy occasionally, in the right moment, because it brings that sharp rush of release. But it's not an everyday thing.

I experienced the other end of the spectrum too — a man with a very small, micro-penis. Unlike the guy with the biggest d*ck I'd ever seen, this one didn't announce it before taking his pants off. He engaged with sex differently: hesitant, careful, almost avoiding it altogether. There was a kind of sheepishness to him, as if he was hoping I wouldn't notice or say anything.

But I could feel his silent stress; a heavy, unspoken tension between us, like a big, invisible elephant in the room. His silence made me uncomfortable, because his smallness was clearly something he felt insecure about. And if I could feel that insecurity so clearly, how could I possibly say anything?

At the time, the right thing to do felt like not to address it. I'd probably behave differently now, but this was the first micro-penis I'd ever encountered, and I genuinely didn't know what to do with it — physically, or in conversation. I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasurable experience, but not necessarily because of his size.

The problem was the silence. We couldn't communicate. To not acknowledge his penis size was also to not acknowledge my own pleasure. I worried that if I said I wasn't feeling much, he'd take it as a direct criticism of something he clearly already felt shame about.

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So I said nothing. I wondered if it was hard or soft, because I couldn't feel anything and couldn't think of a way to ask without wounding him. So I faked an orgasm and vowed, in future, to either never have sex with a micro-penis again, or to have an honest conversation before we got into intimacy.

I decided, after both experiences, that neither were for me. A larger-than-average penis wasn't physically sustainable — I was tender for days after that encounter — and a micro-penis brought too many emotional complications for communication to feel natural. Of course, if I fell in love with a man who had either, I'd find a way through. But if we're talking preference? I'd learnt I was a 'husband willy' girl.

It's the middle-sized, respectable penis — neither large nor small — attached to a man who knows what to do with it. He can get the job done without causing your body physical stress, but it's big enough that it still feels eventful. He's the kind of guy who's never felt shame about his size, because it wouldn't be classed as small. But he doesn't identify with 'big d*ck energy either', and therefore, is not a narcissistic asshole.

I met a few men with 'husband willies' who I didn't want to date, but they reaffirmed that this was the perfect size for longevity. I enjoyed sex with them the most. We could talk about what we liked, I could communicate my desires, and he'd respond without insecurity or ego. This kind of man — and this kind of mid-range penis — became the ideal.

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Interestingly, Jess Cattelly, who runs a swingers club, said something similar in a recent episode of No Filter. "People always ask me about penis size — what's average, what women go for," she said. "Most of the women in our community actually prefer average, or even smaller than average, because they want comfort, connection, and stamina. The 'biggest' isn't always the best; in fact, it's usually the most considerate lovers who are remembered, not the most well-endowed."

She went on to say that confidence and chemistry, not size, were what people responded to most. And I think that's the truth that all the cultural myths, porn scripts, and locker-room jokes forget — that good sex isn't about how much someone has, but how well they use what they've got, and how safe they make you feel while doing it.

My boyfriend has a 'husband willy' — which, I'll admit, is sheer luck. I fell in love with him long before I saw him naked, so maybe I manifested it. But it was something I noticed early on in our sex life and quietly exhaled over. It made an ongoing, sustainable sex life feel possible — which, in a long-term relationship, really matters.

If I've learned anything, it's this: don't buy into the trope that a big penis means better sex. It almost never does. The emotional complexities that come with size — the pride, the shame, the performance anxiety — are often far more limiting than the physical reality itself.

If you're a woman who likes men, find yourself one with a modest, medium-sized penis and the confidence to actually use it well. Someone who knows that connection beats circumference every time. You'll thank me later.

Feature Image: Instagram @lauraroscioli