As if men don’t have enough to worry about, a group of women were recently filmed being asked to draw their perfect penis.

Their reactions were varied. Seven or eight inches seemed to be the most common measurement bandied around. Whether they had any idea how long that is in relation to reality, or to a ruler, was not clear. One woman, without taking as much as a moment to think about it, claimed 10 inches was not only average, but also perfect. Ten inches? Isn’t that, like, a kilometer in metric?

In the video, another woman wasn’t too worried about length, but spent an alarming amount of time considering acceptable girth, while one claimed, “Big penises are evil, they give you tummy cramps.”

I’ve never really considered what my perfect penis would look like. I just thought it would be one attached to a reasonably decent human being (I added in the word “reasonably” so that most of my exes would qualify). It would also help if it wasn’t a micro-penis (it’s a real thing, but don’t google it), and also if it was partial to my vagina, and performed on demand. That would be pretty perfect.

I worry that romanticising the perfect penis could cause problems for a lot of guys out there who don’t conform to our imagined ideas of perfection. And it’s not like they can pick a new one from a catalogue — not yet anyway. We women know a lot about unrealistic body stereotypes.

The video also got me thinking that it would be an awful shame if all penises were perfect. Surely the joy is in the hunt — and it’s the imperfect penises we meet along the way that really count. Those are the ones with the stories to tell. Plus, you can’t know what’s perfect if you don’t encounter a few imperfect ones first.

The other thing about perfection is that it’s an ever-shifting goalpost. Like on those nights when you’re not in the mood, your perfect penis would be in Guadalajara, while you’re in Jozi getting eight hours uninterrupted.

Many years ago I dated a guy who fondly became known as “Bendy Boy” in my close circle of girlfriends. Embarrassingly I can’t remember his name. Alan? Or maybe it was Chris. But Bendy Boy was the name that stuck. His penis could see around corners. I’m sure if you threw it, it would come back, like a boomerang.

I just can’t buy into the idea that there’s only one perfect thing for any of us. And in a world as large as ours, finding it would be like finding a penis in a haystack. Which reminds me of a post I saw on Facebook, which said, “World population: 7810423756. Just in case your ex is feeling irreplaceable.” There are plenty of different kinds of dicks to go around.