Tails of the Unexpected

It has occurred to me of late that my melchett mike dating stories may have become a little too phallocentric.

This realization follows serious consideration (naturally, whilst out walking the dogs) of the unimaginable, almost cruel, uncertainty continually faced by the female dater, whose life really must be “like a box of chocolates.” And I write the following, you understand, only out of heartfelt concern and sympathy for her.

A good friend of mine in London, Emma, relates the story (true) of her perfect (well, almost) first date: stimulating conversation, laughter, and lots of eye contact, all followed by an invitation to a Shoreditch loft apartment (such a pleasant surprise, coming as it did from a nice Jewish boy whom Emma expected – from too much experience – to be living with his little sister in Belsize Park).

Once inside, Emma found no less than a reconstructed prehistoric whale suspended from the ceiling of the palaeontology enthusiast. She was spellbound.

Free Willy!” were the first words, innocent at first, to leave Emma’s lips . . . and, then, not being your typical North-West London Jewish gal, she followed her own instruction. The enchanting evening, Emma was determined to ensure, would reach its fitting climax.

It was then, however, that tragedy struck: Emma’s peerless handiwork revealing that this was not, after all, the perfect man.

“It was just so tiny, I couldn’t do anything with it!” Emma exclaimed to me, her frustration still palpable months later.

For us males, on the other hand, very little need be left to chance. Every man’s favourite twins, for instance, are usually largely discernible even through their clothing . . . alright, I did have a rather deflating experience with a divorcée in Bushey some years ago, the seeming consequence of a child who had mistaken his mother for Express Dairies (forcing, upon revelation, one of my all-time great improvisations: “I am so sorry . . . I can’t . . . I am just not over her yet,” followed by a brilliantly conceived porky about a recent, totally imagined, ex-girlfriend) . . . okay, and there was also the infamous Bristly Nipples incident, involving an American tourist, one New Year’s Eve in Jerusalem . . . but let’s not go there (I certainly didn’t!)

But such experiences, however unfortunate and potentially scarring, are few and far between . . . true, the toches (i.e., the Jewish one) can present not insubstantial problems of its own: I recently went out with a woman who turned up to each date in a different long top, cunningly disguising – like a freshly-painted property for sale – that which lay beneath (her strategy was only foiled on the third or fourth date, when I ingeniously waited for her to get up from her cinema seat first). But even an outsize derrière is rarely a deal-breaker, even constituting, as one ex-Hasmo friend always likes to put it, “more cushin for the pushin.”

There is, of course, one other (totally) concealed object, the sanctity of which forbids it from being named even by these irreverent keys – I do not wish to go down as one judged to have violated its holiness – and whose workings are well beyond the male understanding. But barring extreme conditions that I have no intention of going into here – this is still a family (if a rather inappropriate and dysfunctional one) blog – the respective anatomies of the male and female leave more critical potential pitfalls for the latter: Let us be truthful, we boys are usually guaranteed a good time, however wide the obstacle.

Dangling over a female’s first date(s), however, is an enormous (often misleadingly so) question mark. And, in the event that there is initial attraction, her suspense must be nigh on unbearable: She knows that she has a winning ticket, but no idea how much she is going to receive . . . and, as with our poor Emma, the ‘prize’ may turn out to be so negligible that she won’t even bother cashing it in.

[If female readers of melchett mike would care to share, by comment below, their thoughts and experiences in this fascinating (if somewhat taboo) regard, they may invent a name and (though it, anyway, can be viewed only by me) e-mail address.]


24 responses to “Tails of the Unexpected

  1. I feel no sympathy whatsoever for their plight. How can you compare an occasional disappointment after unwrapping the present, when presents are so easily obtainable to them? Or to use your analogy, they have a roll of tickets – all they have to do is scratch them off one at a time and eventually a jackpot will pop out. Most men, on the other hand, have little choice but to make do with whatever they are able to snag, since great effort and expense has been sacrificed for each prize. IMHO.

  2. Fair point, Ali.

    “Every man’s favourite twins, for instance, are usually largely discernible even through their clothing”

    I take that back . . .

    Esther is clearly very Modern Orthodox! And hilarious how quickly she sells out!

  3. Where is Mary Whitehouse when we need her? Whatever happened to the 9pm Watershed? Would Raanana residents want their wives and servants to read this blog? Would you want melchett to marry YOUR daughter?

    This time our blogger extraordinaire has got his fleishigs and milchigs mixed up good and proper!

  4. Hot Lips Houlihan

    It is a sad truth. . . guys can have fun with most anything that crosses their path however narrow or wide their path may be. There isn’t much guessing about what the package is all about with women. . . that is, unless they are wearing Spanks, a booty lift pair of pants and a good push up bra, in which case, the unwrapping of the present may be a big downer.

    I had an experience with someone with whom I had incredible chemistry. Insane chemistry. . . when it came time to go “down town”, I was shocked and a bit concerned as I had to ask myself, “How old is this guy anyway? This surely is not the part of a grown man.” I did what I could with what I had and finished the task at hand. Sadly, the next time I had a popsicle, I was reminded of him.

    As women, our only hope of finding the perfect “package” deal/date in a guy is to check the size of his hands as well as his feet. If they look pretty good sized, we may be in for a fulfilling night ahead of us.

  5. I feel sorry for you all. When it’s approached as meaningless sex, that’s what you get…meaningless…..and all about the “package.” If you’d wait for love, the “package” size wouldn’t matter. It would be all about the thrill of physically expressing that love for each other…..with whatever you have to work with. But, that’s what today’s single culture is all about now….trying people on for size. The brain is the largest sexual organ in the body…..unless you’re an ape. The farther we get away from what G-d intended for us, the more disappointed we will be.

  6. Pray tell, dear Sissy, what does G-d intend for us?

  7. The more relevant question, John, may rather be only the first half of yours . . .

    “Would Raanana residents want their wives?” 😉

    Welcome to melchett mike, Hot Lips. Whilst I might not be your “perfect “package” deal,” I am more than happy to let you have a go! And I certainly prefer your style to that of Sissy, whom I remind of the words of the great W. Allen . . .

    “Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as far as meaningless experiences go, it’s pretty damn good.”

    Regards from Melchett,


  8. Maybe I take things too literally but are you merely asking for people’s opinions about one having a small penis by relating a story about a “friend’s” inadequacies?

  9. This is such a sensitive issue, because so many men are anxious about their penis size. It’s the female equivalent of body image, but in reverse. Most women worry they are fatter than they really are. Most men seem to worry that their penises are smaller than they really are. I suppose this story feeds into male anxiety. To reassure any men reading and worrying whether their penis is too small to do anything with: 1. The big ones you see lolloping on men in the shower often tend to be floppier than the smaller, tidier ones. 2. The penis in the story really was tiny. Before you ask, much, much, much smaller than yours.

    Hot Lips meet Melchett Mike.

    Emma xx

  10. Thank you for that insight, Emma . . . though, whenever I am with “men in the shower,” the last thing I tend to look at is anything that might be “lolloping on” them: I guess I don’t want them thinking that I may be . . . well, y’know . . . 😉

    Still here, Bad Smell (aka Ari)?! As you are, make yourself useful and clarify whether, as an Israeli man, it is not size that counts . . . but how quickly you get it all over with?! One thing’s for sure: you are a big enough c*ck for all of us . . .

  11. The Hasmo boys have gone very quiet…

  12. “The Hasmo boys” I happen to have been in contact with these past few days, Emma, have reacted to the post in very different ways . . .

    A couple informed me that they felt I had crossed the line, this time. One of them, however, just days later, was himself waxing lyrical here about “boys . . . air[ing] their backsides.” Talk about poor taste! And another, Yossi, even more horrified by my post, was – at the same time – quite clearly fascinated by you, Emma, and Hot Lips Houlihan.

    On the other hand, another ex-Hasmo just called me from Lisbon Airport to inform me that he had liked the post so much that he had forwarded it to his missus.

    On the whole, though, I think your average ex-Hasmo (Jewish boy in general?) is more comfortable talking about Cyril and Chich than he is about our respective dangly bits.

    Any chance then, Emma, of you helping repressed ex-Hasmos by becoming melchett mike’s resident agony aunt (even though you’d probably require therapy yourself afterwards)?!

  13. Feeling repressed?
    Dream therapy can help.
    Free of charge over facebook. Ask melchett mike for friend details – if he can be bothered of course.

  14. MM

    Internet age – almost no opinion counts when facts are available. Emma may have poor basis on which to judge yours or may not…

    So in the interest of science here is the issue of size. On the other hand it is more important how one uses it if at all Mike!

    While results vary across studies, the consensus is that the mean human penis is approximately 12.9–15 cm (5.1–5.9 in) in length with a 95% confidence interval of (10.7 cm, 19.1 cm) (or, equivalently, 4.23 in, 7.53 in). The typical girth or circumference is approximately 12.3 cm (4.85 in) when fully erect. Yet, one reputable source claims that the relaxed human penis has an average length of only 4 inches (≈10.2 cm) and diameter of 1¼ inches (≈3.2 cm) while fully erect it has an average length of 6 inches (≈15.2 cm) and diameter of 1½ inches (≈3.8 cm). The mean penis size is slightly greater than the median size. Studies have not found a relation between penis size and race.

  15. Thanks for that, Bad. Have you had your tape measure out? Hope you got over the disappointment!

    “Studies have not found a relation between penis size and race.”

    Wikipedia has clearly gone PC – ask any woman who has ever been with a black, or even Jewish Yemenite, guy.

    All of this brings to mind an invaluable maxim . . .

    “The angle of the dangle is inversely proportional to the throb of the knob.”

    Though, (talking of knobs) Bad, it probably doesn’t translate too well into Ivrit.

  16. Minimum Mike

    If you are going to quote Will Ferrel (I have the Patriot sketch bit and I Love SNL – wife was a production assistant there) then I will paraphrase The Social Network –
    You probably think you’re not getting laid because you’re dating the wrong people and you’re unlucky- it’s not – it’s because you’re an asshole…


    I don’t really think you’re an asshole… But I couldn’t help it…

  17. “But I couldn’t help it…”

    Something I repeatedly tell myself about the natives, Bad!

    Or in the incomparable formulation of a Legend of Swansea . . .

    “Don’t mock the afflicted.”

  18. You two are starting to sound like Sid James and Kenneth Williams debating the meaning of life in a Carry On movie.

    Time to hit the “Off” button, boys, before Benny Hill offers you a contract.

    And, just to rub it in, “Ooh Noo, it’s wicked to mock the afflicted” was one of Frankie Howerd’s catchphrases in that suicide bomb of British humour, Up Pompeii! (the title says it all).

  19. I knew I’d lure you into Tails of the Unexpected eventually, John!

    And Frankie Howerd stole “Don’t mock the afflicted” from Cyril no less shamelessly than Sugar Ray Leonard got “It’s got to hurt” – which he used to taunt Roberto Duran during their 1980 “No Más” fight, in New Orleans – from your favourite Rov z”l.

  20. I will only add that it IS OK to afflict the mockable

  21. And Quote of the Day (so far) is by my colleague, who just approached me – as the Englishman in our office – with the wonderfully innocent . . .

    “What does it mean to ‘roger’ someone?”

    Naturally, I informed her that it was to provide them with help and assistance. 😉

  22. Careful, you could face charges of providing a translation with intent to cause a breach of the peace.

  23. Avraham Reiss

    Ah, NOW I understand!

    That is why wireless communicators terminate transmissions with “Roger and out”.

  24. Hi Mike.


    The above is a link to the World Penis Size Map, which ranks country by average penis size. Sudan tops the list by the way, no surprise there, but as you can see, there are very many surprising questions raised by other country rankings. For instance, Bolivians have larger penis’ (penii?) than Ecuadoreans. And Canadians have bigger schlongs than Americans, despite America having many more Black people. Alaska is lumped with America, despite being an extension of the Canadian land mass….very curious in my opinion.

    It seems to me that Latin countries, where machismo posturing is rampant, penis sizes are reported as bigger, whereas northern countries, where people are less given to braggadocio, penile sizes appear smaller…Don’t tell me that lying played a part in rounding up the statistics? Shocking.

    Thank G-d Israel seems to rank a smidgen higher than the Palestinians, but we lag behind the Egyptians (obviously, they are in Africa let’s not forget).

    East Asians and Indians have the smallest…no real surprise there either I guess….reminds me of the old Japanese admonishment for social cohesion, the nail that sticks out has to be hammered back in.


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