The relationship you have with your cock is the relationship you have with your masculinity. Some people equate that to fucking and sex, but I think it’s a lot more nuanced than just one activity, especially given that many men don’t take the time to get comfortable with their cocks, in all of its transformations. For the most part, men are taught to simultaneously distrust their cocks, while also valuing how hard and long they can get (or shamed if their cock isn’t a certain size and hardness).
I find myself adjusting my cock every day at some point. No one ever talks about that, but having an organ that dangles between your legs can be awkward sometimes, especially when said organ suddenly gets hard or the balls need to be moved so you can sit more comfortably.
For a long time, my relationship with my cock was ambivalent. Its softness was intimidating. I wanted it to get hard when I wanted it to be hard and to otherwise be invisible the rest of the time. That never worked. Putting pressure on myself to get hard on command never worked. And I later learned there was wisdom in that decision, because if my cock wasn’t getting hard, it was signaling a few different possibilities:
I wasn’t attracted to the person.
My body sensed that the person might not be feeling well.
I might not be feeling well or in the mood.
I was always trying to be ready, but it created a dysfunctional relationship with my own sexuality and biological rhythms. It also created an experience of feeling rushed when it came to sex. If I got hard, it felt like the most important thing was to do something with that hardness instead of relaxing into the journey of intimacy I was already on.
Sometimes, I would put pressure on myself to get hard. Other times, it would be the person I was with, wondering if something was wrong or if I wasn’t attracted to her. I felt an invisible pressure to be ready so I could prove I desired her. I didn’t realize how much pressure was there until I went on a journey to change my relationship with my masculinity.