Everybody loves dick. Or so it seems that way, when all your friends are straight girls who think they’re in love or at least getting laid. Long-term dick, short-term dick, dick they’re trying to get, dick they’re trying to avoid. Yet I cannot relate to the fuck boi problems attached to said dicks because I’m only familiar with no bois. And as much as I love being told in great detail about how your boyfriend’s hair falls across his face, or how much sex everyone is having while cobwebs are being spun between my legs, one can only feign interest for so long.
Have I transcended the shallow want of dick or is this just a defense mechanism for my dick rut? Am I pretending that I’m too good for dick? “Sorry Ashley, can’t get coffee with you and hear about all the mad dick you’re getting, I have to stay at home and read Maya Angelou,” I’ll say matter of factly. But what if they replace me with someone who doesn’t cry at the mention of dick while I’m at home crying over just why indeed the caged bird sings? So I posit the question: does one need dick to retain their chicks?
What is happening is what I theorise as the inevitable “dick demise” that every friendship faces. Though close friendships in their formative days are often based on shared interests and ‘deep’ conversations, eventually they become secure enough to be safe havens for sharing ‘sillier’ things like dick and memes. There are only a few people you’ll send a unicycling frog to at 2am. This transition is similar to the shift from passionate (the fiery honeymoon period of a romantic relationship) to compassionate love (farting comfortably in the presence of your partner). And this can be a great thing! When you reach the comfort level of comparing dicks and farting then you have really made a meaningful connection.
Primary school sleepovers are the first exhibition of this, when you and your first generation BFFs play Truth or Dare. Eventually everyone picks truth and everyone asks in a singsong voice “who do youuu liiiike?” Except everyone wants the same thing—to talk about their own crush and have their friends say things like “omg Jack sooo likes you he let you borrow his pen.” This is the glowing side of the dick demise and why it endures—when the prospect of dick and reassuring friendship overlap, you feel very special.
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The other side is the isolating FOMO, of being dickless during a dick demise. Not only are you dickless, you end up essentially chickless. You’re left screaming “what happened to chicks before dicks” to absolutely no one, because everyone’s on a date or mid-orgasm. In life’s game of musical dicks it seems everyone found a dick to sit on except for you. But it’s okay. The music will stop again. And you’ll smile at whoever comes to join you by your side as you both say, “what a silly game!”