Page 24 of The Love Hack

‘Oh Nathan. Nathan, Nathan, Nathan.’ Amelie poured coffee from the cafetiere into our cups, the stream of liquid flowing slowly, as if her thoughts were, too. ‘Bless his cotton socks. Age-old question indeed. If I had a tenner for every man who’d ever asked me about that, let me tell you, I wouldn’t be – but anyway. Back to Nathan.’

‘Yeah. I mean, porn aside’ – I bit my lip, not wanting to admit that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually seen any – ‘I thought they were all about the same size, at least when they’re – you know, erect.’

‘Growers and showers, you mean?’

I giggled. ‘That’s what they told us in sex ed at school, anyway.’

Amelie snorted midway through a sip of coffee and choked.

When she’d finished spluttering and I’d poured her a glass of water, she said, ‘Well of course that’s what they’re going to tell a bunch of eleven-year-olds sat in a classroom. Of course they are! What’s the alternative? “Sorry lads, some of you are going to end up with five-inch tiddlers and some with ten-inch schlongs and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Now, moving on to sexually transmitted infections…”’

‘You mean it’s not true?’

‘Certainly not in my limited – okay, not that limited – experience, it’s not.’

‘Then why not just admit it? Women don’t expect to all have boobs the same size, do we?’

‘It’s the male ego again, Luce. Poor dears have been conditioned by centuries of patriarchy to believe that men with bigger penises will get more women, have more power and make more money. And we women haven’t helped, let’s be honest.’

‘Come on – surely this can’t be women’s fault?’

‘Not exactly. But think about it – when a woman’s been hurt by a guy, when she’s feeling powerless and broken, what do her mates say?’

‘“Have a gin and tonic?”’

‘Yeah, that. But only after they’ve said, “Tell him he’s shit in bed and he’s got a tiny cock.” It’s our Defcon One.’

‘So then there must be some truth in it.’

‘Of course there is. Some guys have big dicks, some have small ones. Some look like a dog’s been chewing it, most thankfully don’t. They’re all different, same as women’s bits.’

‘So what on earth do I say to this Nathan, then?’

‘Here’s the thing. Here’s what no one ever tells men. Size. Does. Not. Matter. It’s like I was saying earlier. If a woman climaxes – ideally before penetration – she literally couldn’t give two hoots how big the man’s willy is. And if she hasn’t, or isn’t ready, it’s more likely to hurt if the guy’s hung like a walrus. Not that I’ve ever seen a walrus’s one.’

‘A walrus’s what?’

I jumped. I hadn’t heard Zack come into the flat, but now the kitchen seemed full of his presence – the bag holding his squash racket landing with a thump on the kitchen table, making the teaspoons jingle on our saucers; the smell of his body, a mixture of deodorant, rain and sweat; the way Amelie’s foot instantly slid off the chair, her posture tensing before she jumped up to kiss him, Adam’s anonymous correspondent forgotten.

‘How was your match?’ she asked.

‘Shit. We lost in three games and we’ve got no chance in the league now.’

‘I guess it doesn’t matter that much, since you won’t be here,’ I said politely. ‘Are you planning to join a league when you’re in New York?’

Zack shrugged. ‘Maybe. Could be a good way to network with other expats – other citizens of nowhere.’

Amelie gazed up at him like he’d said something groundbreaking and profound. What was it about him, I wondered, that made her set aside all her cynicism about men, as if he was the first one she’d ever met?

Perhaps he was so gifted in the sex department that my sister had realised she’d never meet anyone as good again. But I’d never had the chance to ask her about that, and now that he was going to be my brother-in-law, I knew I never could.

‘I should go,’ I said. ‘Thanks for the breakfast, Am. And for all the – you know – help.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She walked me to the door and gave me a brief hug, but I could tell her mind was already elsewhere – on Zack, on their wedding, on whatever plans they’d make for the rest of the day now that he was unexpectedly home. ‘Don’t worry about the letter. You’ll work something out.’

‘Okay. Have a lovely day. I guess I’ll see you on Friday – wedding eve, hey?’

‘Wedding eve.’ She leaned into me and whispered, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but when I think about it I want to puke. That’s normal, right?’

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