Before I got into writing about sex, I was well aware penis size was a big issue (no pun intended) for most men.
I can still remember the boys from my math class furtively smuggling out rulers to hold contests in the urinals at recess.
Guys called each other "dickheads" with unexpected fondness, and talked constantly of "donkey dicks" and "big schlongs" in the locker rooms.
Conversely, "pin dick" and "dickless" were penile adjectives reserved for public humiliation. They'd graffiti cartoons of penises on their desks when teachers weren't looking, and on the brick wall outside the toilet block, in a display of teenage rebellion.
I never got it. There was no relative female version — no lunchtime ritual where we took turns critiquing the length of one another's labias.
Quite frankly, I found the phallic fascination among my male peers rather … strange.
But size anxiety isn't a phenomenon exclusive to teenage boys.
A study published in PubMed, found at least 68 per cent of adult men feel their penises aren't large enough.
Though, paradoxically, research shows the vast majority of men are incredibly similar in size, and that dramatic variations at either end of the scale only affect a small percentage of the population.
What's most striking, though, is the fact that, even when I reassure men women are far more interested in their sexual attentiveness than their genital measurements, there's a palpable struggle to let go of everything they've been conditioned to believe: that size is king.
As I was writing this article, I playfully asked my boyfriend, "Have you ever measured your junk?"
"Of course! It's six inches," he answered, without missing a beat.
"So you're average then," I remarked.
"That's above average. Why would you call me average?" he retorted.
It occurred to me I'd hit a nerve. But why? I've never given any time or thought to the size of his penis, so why should he? What exactly is it about size that causes so many men anxiety?
It could be argued no part of a man's body has been as strongly linked to virility, masculinity and desirability throughout history, as the penis.
Cave drawings dating back as far as 8000 years ago depict primitive humans with exaggerated phalluses as a symbol of power and fertility.
Renaissance art illustrates men wearing pronounced codpieces, essentially a metaphorical nod to the dick-measuring contest.
In porn, we're confronted with monster penises often so farcically large, one has to wonder how these men urinate, and fit into regular jeans.
While this may have had less of an impact on the male psyche 20 years ago, when watching something X-rated meant surreptitiously strolling the "Adult" aisle in your local video store, the ubiquity of modern porn has made images of generously-endowed men almost unavoidable.
It may explain why, since internet porn took off, the penis enhancement market has become a multi-billion dollar industry.
Though, Australian porn star Jake Shy is quick to tell me there are often as many special effects to make the dicks look big in porn, as you'd expect in a Hollywood action movie.
"POV, which is a popular style of porn where the camera shows the guy's perspective during sex, is used to make guys look larger than they really are. It's all about angles," explains Shy.
Even still, it seems many men are taking these images literally, in the same way women have understood for decades that magazines covers are Photoshopped, and still aspired to emulate the retouched women adorning them. And this is an issue, because it's putting the attention in the wrong place.
Eavesdrop on any girls' night, and you're likely to hear all manner of graphic critiques on a guy's sexual performance.
What you won't hear though, is a woman lamenting his penis wasn't big enough. Put simply, we just don't care.
It's the same reason dick pics fail so spectacularly with women. We're not interested in sizing up how girthy your junk is. (And please don't get me started on the guys who include a Coke can in the pic for size comparison.)
Regardless, I know tomorrow morning, I'll open my inbox to find a new batch of emails, asking me the same question men have been asking since the beginning of time.
And I'll inevitably tell them the same thing I told my boyfriend earlier today: it's not the size of the wand that matters; it's the work of the wizard.
