I can only assume that Weiner has a rod so big it inspires awe, like the Pyramids.  The alternative – that he’s a modestly endowed man who hopes to impress women with a money shot – is just too sad to contemplate.  Actually – big or small, it’s still sad. I haven’t read The Game, but I’m pretty sure a move like this appears nowhere in its pages. It almost boggles the mind to imagine how short of clever one-liners a man must be to resort to sending a photo of his dick. It’s the nuclear option of flirting, and you have to be as delusional as Dr. Strangelove to use it.

Most straight women I know (carnally or otherwise) enjoy penises – but not so much they’d be thrilled at receiving a picture of one (unless it was taken by Robert Mapplethorpe). It’s the cyber equivalent of being flashed in the park by a man in a trench coat.  Therein we return once again to that great evolutionary advantage women have over men: all men need do is look at a woman (and her various parts) to want to have sex with them, whereas women can be turned on by something deeper and more meaningful, enough to look past a man’s shortcomings. That’s why beautiful wives the world over can find their ugly man attractive – or in this case a libidinous congressman with poor impulse control.  Weiner had to think the ladies would look upon his johnson the same way a guy might, and be as impressed with it as he seems to be.   Like I said before – bonehead.

So yes – just because you can now send snaps of your penis on Twitter doesn’t mean you should – any Better Man knows that, as do most New Yorkers, including Andrew Weiner himself (now).  What Weiner also knows is dirty pictures of yourself to anyone other than your wife is ‘hard’ evidence of intent, if not commission – and that regardless of your motives, it’s never wise to leave anything that can be used against you in court, be it one of law or public opinion.

What Weiner may never know is that when it comes to his penis, a Better Man needs to keep a little dignity and leave something to imagination, if for no other reason than penises just aren’t that photogenic.  A penis can’t throw it’s hands on its waist and cock its hip to one side.  It can’t turn onto its stomach and look coquettishly over its shoulder.  It can never be subtly implied in a Georgia O’Keefe painting of a flower.  Compared to the sleek, feline beauty of a woman’s indoor plumbing, a man’s outdoor plumbing has all the charm of…well, an outhouse.  Or a dirty gas pump.   It’s a triumph of function over form, not designed to be looked at so much as experienced, usually while being surrounded and covered by something else.  As Rachel said  “it’s not the size…it’s what you do with it”. (NOTE: She may have been saying that to make me feel better.)

All of this is academic, of course, because now Andrew’s penis-capades are out in the open, and the Weiner’s out of politics,  his future there forever compromised. The only thing left to do now is recover from the damage, a task made harder by the fact that Weiner lied about it at the start, and lied about it horribly.  He denied inadvertently sending his penis to a coed in Washington state, then reversed himself and said he did send the picture, but meant to send it to the porn star whose name appears just below the coed’s name on his contact list.  This reminded me of those drug commercials on TV, where the side effects of the drug sound way worse than the condition they’re supposed to treat.

Andrew’s other hurdle is that, according to people who know him personally and professionally, he’s bit of an egotistical, in-your-face asshole.  He made his disdain for his fellow congressmen rather evident, and judging from the demands for his resignation, the feeling was mutual. This guy has lots of people applauding his “cock-up”, a sign that perhaps he needs to re-think the way he lives his life.

So maybe this is a golden opportunity for Andrew to become a Better Man – by Better, I mean a guy who’s humbler, more thoughtful, or at least pauses a moment before sending porno shots of himself to a 20-year-old in her dorm room. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: adversity butches you up, and if you don’t give in to cynicism it can lead to opportunities you hadn’t previously thought possible.  I’m just reading Anthony Bourdain’s book Medium Raw right now, and he writes about how he went through a dark phase – he fucked up his career, his marriage, he was working at greasy spoons, addicted to heroin (later crack), and pretty much alienating anyone that might have cared about him. And yet, that dark night of the soul is what led to his phenomenally successful book Kitchen Confidential and his new life as a rebel TV personality.  Bourdain writes that he’s grateful that for that dark time – he’d be nowhere today without it. If he and the new “Teflon Don” Eliot Spitzer have anything to teach “the Weiner”, it’s that any pervy New Yorker can bounce back from seemingly world-ending mistakes if he tries hard enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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