the turtleneck

I suppose I was bound to come across it at some point in my life. I knew it existed out there like some mythological creature, but in my 25 years I had yet to actually come eye to eye with an uncircumcised penis, and it was an encounter for which I was severely unprepared. A few months ago I briefly dated a guy whose one major flaw was his foreskin.

My initial reaction was that it reminded me of something that should be attached to a dog. My father used to have an overly playful 80 lbs. French Bouvier, named Ego, who was infamous for his appearances on the leather couch in the living room. My step-mother claimed it was the pliability of the couch or perhaps leather just is one of those things that does it for both canine and man. But without fail, every time Ego would pounce onto that couch, it was in your best interests to flee the area. Within seconds, Ego’s enthusiasm would slowly emerge into a bright red, wet erection reminiscent of a tube of lipstick sliding upwards. And if you weren’t quick enough, it would be headed straight toward you.

I had somehow managed to suppress the memory of Ego’s lipstick - that is until I encountered the Turtleneck for the first time. It would be a disservice to those out there who have yet to encounter firsthand a turtleneck of their own if I skimp out on the details. The best way to describe this creature is as a cascading, flesh waterfall - the skin literally falling and draping a good inch beyond the tip.

The term “turtleneck” resulted from the guy’s over-attempt at humor, when post-relations he proclaimed on multiple occasions, “Welp time to put my turtleneck back on,” as he yanked forward his penis flesh in an almost painful manner.

Needless to say, after a few encounters with the turtleneck, it didn’t matter how many bottles of wine the evening was filled with… the turtleneck was not something worth trying on again.