It’s testicle size, nothing else matters.

Today I stumbled upon an exceptionally archaic and exceptionally entertaining dating scene.

It’s a place where testicle size is prized above everything else, even muscle length and skin tone, although those characteristics are not to be snorted at. This dating scene also requires wads of cash to even come through the front gate and there is little choice for the female of the species.

Of course, it’s the local bull sale. And it’s fabulously fun, in an oh-so voyeuristic fashion.

It starts with the graziers roaming around the yards checking out the scores of grumpy bulls up for grabs. Specifically they’re looking at whether their scrotums hang to the left or the right and how many calves its likely to produce. The length of their pizzle is checked out and discussed openly, much to the embarrassment of the beasts on the other side of the fence who get angrier by the minute.

Some farmers want a bull with a big back end. One of the lads kindly informed me that my back end was probably similar to what they’re looking for – healthy. And these big butts, one farmer paid $12,000 for the chance to play cupid with the beasts testes.

The beast’s temperament is also important. You don’t want to be stuck in a ring with a 900kg animal that’s crankier than, well cranky like a hungry, horny bull in a fickle mood.

Watching the behemoths kick back the dirt was terrifying at times. And the blokes had a nice chuckle at me jumping away from the gates. Fear is just hilarious, really.

But it got me thinking about how civilised we humans are, and how complicated we make mating. Imagine putting all the blokes in a pen, naked obviously and parading them around commenting on the size of their scrotum and the tone of their skin. “He puts a bang in your bullet,” the auctioneer would yell.

“The scrotal are like peas in a pod, and good peas they are too,” he’d add.

We could even discuss how hairy they are and whether that’s because it’s been a cold season or whether they’re just a hairy breed.

It’d be a level playing field really and people could buy the bloke that suited them best. The man that suited what they wanted in their progeny. How novel!

Of course it would go beyond the length of size of their testicles and include information about behaviour. Instead of ‘this is a feisty beast’, we’d get ‘this guy is likely to be sullen after a bad day at work’. Let’s face it, a heads up would be nice about these things.

A ring full of naked women would probably be even more fun. “Look at the length on her rack,” they might say.

The biggest issue with this forum is consent, especially for women, but let’s not let that get in the way of a healthy imagination.

But in reality, things are rarely so straightforward. Instead we do a ridiculous cloak and dagger routine that is rarely successful. Fortunately I experienced that cringe worthy experience today too and can draw a few comparisons.

Before the bulls were paraded around I trotted into the arena, scouring the yards for broad-brimmed folk to take pictures of. The local handyman gave me a cheery welcome with dating advice included, free of charge.

“See that bloke on the right,” he nudged me, grinning uncontrollably. “ Single. Two properties. I’ll introduce you,” he said listing off his best attributes.

By the way, I heartily enjoy these forced-intimate awkward situations with older men.
We shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Yes, he was the bloke that nearly ran me over in the street today. A point of common interest – road safety.

But I wasn’t immediately taken with the gentleman. Nothing wrong with him, perhaps he was just a tad too quiet. I’m too fussy again, it seems.

“He’s 49,” I was told, belatedly.

“I’m 25,” I replied, with slight indignation.

“He’s got a pacemaker. We can jumpstart him,” he tells me.

That’s just what I‘m after, I thought, my mind dripping with sarcasm.

I pulled a face that said I was not really interested in marrying this feller, as I could see the handyman was already wondering if he’d be able to walk me down the aisle.
“Oh I’m only jokin’. Or half jokin’ anyway,” he said and strolled off to whisper something in another blokes ear that made all of the lads laugh conspiratorially in my direction.

I couldn’t decide whether it’d be more fun to have had the exchange naked in the ring or fully clothed in work gear, Akubras and inhibitions.

It didn’t matter though, it was all great fun.

3 thoughts on “It’s testicle size, nothing else matters.

  1. Nice to see you’re expanding your range of rural experiences. Shame the bull sales weren’t matched by human specimens worthy of investment. love the bulls photo as well.

  2. Nanna liked to article and photos too – brought back lots of memories I suspect.. We both loved the two bulls with their heads together, although apparently they aren’t usually that civilised according to the expert. They never dehorned bulls in her day.
    Do the bulls come with a performance guarantee?

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