I had just arrived in Port Authority when I got a phone call from my brother. It was loud in the terminal, so I could barely hear him. “Hey,” he said in his monotonous bro-tone. “What’s up?” “Nothin’ much,” he said, “What are you doing?” I told him that I had just stepped off in New York. Then, as I was opening the doors to 42nd Street, I heard him say “John-David, I had sex last night.” I shuddered at the thought, so I asked him to repeat it once I got onto the sidewalk just to make sure. He exclaimed, “I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT!” Paul and I don’t have the closest brotherly relationship, so I was surprised that he called to inform me of this. I assumed that it was his first time and that he wanted a little pat on the back so I said, “Oh gosh Paul. Well, congratulations! Who’s the lucky bitch?” He replied, “Some chick from Oakdale.” I laughed and said, “Oh wow, she sounds nice. I hope you didn’t get her pregnant.” He said, “I don’t think I got her pregnant.” “Paul… I was hoping you would say, ‘I know I didn’t get her pregnant, because I wore a condom…” He interrupted me, “Oh wait, John-David… I know I didn’t get her pregnant because I wore a condom.” I laughed again and told him I was proud of his ultimate act of masculinity. That alone was enough awkward humor for me to send out a mass text message to everyone I knew, but the story quickly turned into a saga.

I was back at school and had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing when I got a call from my mom. “I don’t know if I should tell you… but, oh nevermind,” she said nervously. Grandma was in the hospital, so I told her that she couldn’t do that to me. “Well, Paul had sex for the first time last week…” I replied, “Yeah… I know. He told me on Friday. Wait, how do you know about that?” She proceeded to cautiously say, “Well he kind of had to tell me. Something happened…” My first thought, of course, was that he had gotten this girl pregnant. She continued, “Paul, um… well, he ripped his penis.” My jaw dropped in utter horror. “What do you mean he ripped his penis!?” “Well, he was having sex and it just ripped,” she told me, “We’re on our way to the doctor’s office now.” I told her how bad I felt for poor Paul, and I confirmed that it was indeed not during his first time, which was comforting to know. When I asked how something like this had occurred, she said, “I think that something happened with the rubber … Is there a kind of rubber that has lubrication on the inside?” I embarrassedly told her that there wasn’t a condom like that on the market, but that it didn’t matter because that surely was not the cause of this unfortunate event. I told her to call me after their visit to the doctor and we hung up.

At this point, I should give you a little background. So neither my brother nor I are circumcised. Why would somebody do this to their child? Was it that my parents hippies or European? No, no. My father incredulously claims that he remembers his own circumcision, and that he couldn’t bear the thought of putting either of his sons through the same amount of pain and trauma. Right — I’m sure little baby Dave was so traumatized that he could still vividly recall that procedure in his late thirties …

Later that day I got a call from my brother. “I just got out of the doctor’s office…” he said. I told him that I heard about what had happened and that I was very sorry about the whole ordeal. “He had to put a needle in the head of my penis!” he told me. “Then he took a knife and cut part of my dick off.” “Oh my gosh Paul! Did the doctor circumcise you!?” I asked with genuine concern. He said no, and that they just had to cut off the small section that had ripped. When I got on the phone with my mom, she said that Dr. Carlson told her that some children are born with the skin being a little too taught down there. The doctor looked at it and told my brother, “Oh gee Paul… I’m really sorry I didn’t notice this when you were a baby. I should have caught that sooner.” I would imagine that those were not very comforting words to a boy who finally lost his virginity only to have his penis rip so early in the game.

So why have I decided to tell you this story? It was the first time that my brother and I had ever really bonded over something. He was always too young to have the same friends as me or to be concerned with the same things, so we never really got close growing up. I never shared his passion for sports or video games, and he never enjoyed Mariah Carey or Barbie dolls. It took 17 years for us to finally find some common ground, but our uncut penises finally forged a relationship between brothers and for that, I am forever grateful.

John-David Brown is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be reached at jdbrown@cornellsun.com. Country Club Cockfight appears alternate Fridays.