The Hard Penis Myth: How We Read Erections as Love

The earliest known example of phallic art (as of 2023) is a small pendant discovered in Mongolia, dating back 42,000 years. The cult of the erect penis stretches back millennia and still occupies pride of place in temples and shrines across the world today. It is a symbol of fertility, strength and manhood, so it is little wonder that those of us equipped with such an objet d'art regard it with a heady mix of pride, expectation and, frequently, trepidation.

Never more so than when the phallus is called into action during a sexual encounter, and particularly in the run-up to intercourse.

So much emotional, psychological, cultural and social weight hinges on erection and penetration that it is a wonder the star of the show doesn't spend half its time signing autographs and the other half in a dinner suit at a premiere in Leicester Square.

No surprise, then, that those born with one are so preoccupied with it that its artistic likeness — crude and stylised as it may be — adorns walls and available surfaces the world over. A man maketh the penis, and the penis maketh the man.

Alas, the cult of the erect penis is not lost on those of us born with a rather less showy set of genitalia. In ways both explicit and implicit, we are all well aware of what it represents, shaped as we are by the same social and cultural forces.

Mae West, the famously bold American actress and sex symbol of the early twentieth century, is credited with the line: "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" She may never have uttered it in a movie, but knowing her confidence and wit, she almost certainly did in the privacy of her boudoir.

As amusing as the line is — and its many modern updates, the smartphone being merely its latest incarnation — it points to something with real and lasting impact.

A foundational belief for many women is that an erect penis, primed and ready, is clear proof that their man is interested, finds them attractive, and wants them, with everything that entails. Even the most blasé among us is prone to making this association. And don't for a second assume this doesn't hold for same-sex couples too.

So deep-rooted is this belief that even those who own one, and know full well how unpredictable it can be mid-romp, can still fall for the hard penis myth themselves.

This very physical, entirely visible show of male interest — and, by extension, of choice — becomes a proxy for the health of the whole relationship.

Small wonder, then, that the receiving partner turns into a keen and rather forensic observer of the organ's every move: its angle, its firmness, each becoming an unofficial barometer of how loved, and how secure, the relationship really is.

No wonder indeed! This has never really been just about the physical act of penetration, delightful and pleasurable as that undoubtedly is.

This is an existential threat.

To a partner tracking the ebbs and flows of a penis in action, every flicker puts the emotional pleasure of the encounter, and the relationship itself, at risk.

And so, rather than losing themselves in the moment, they become achingly self-conscious. A momentary softening and the mind leaps straight to "he doesn't want me" — and from there, it's a short hop to the well-thumbed encyclopaedia of self-doubt: "I'm not X enough," insert as appropriate: pretty, handsome, young, old, clever, funny, slim, toned, strong… and so on, and so forth.

By this point, the receiving partner is more in their heads than in their bodies, and the romance and sensuality of two people entwined ...is lost. It hardly matters if things firm up again moments later — the eyes are locked on, laser-focused, and the mission has shifted from enjoying the moment to managing the erection, keeping it exactly where it needs to be, because of what its presence, or absence, is assumed to mean.

So the receiving partner starts a kind of dance: less a body's sensual response to touch and desire, more a carefully choreographed routine performed for an audience of one very demanding punter. And if intercourse does happen, the overriding feeling is often relief that the couple is "safe" — until the next time — rather than the joy of being truly at one with a loving, adoring partner.

And while all this drama is playing out in the receiver's head, how does the "giver" experience it? We might like to think our partners are blissfully unaware of the whole performance. Don't be fooled. The hard penis myth is felt every bit as keenly, if not more so, by those who own the organ in question, and who are looking to their partner for reassurance and love in return.

What they often get instead is a faint sense of disconnection — sex reduced to a checklist, a game of Twister, minus most of the fun.

In the next article, I'll turn to the impact on the giver, and how all of the above conspires to rob couples of romance and genuine bonding.

Sources:

The Psychology of Erectile Dysfunction https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09637214231192269

Is Female Wellness Affected when Men Blame them for Erectile Dysfunction? https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8240332/

Symbolic innovation at the onset of the Upper Paleolithic in Eurasia shown by the personal ornaments from Tolbor-21 (Mongolia)www.nature.com/articles/s41598-023-36140-1