It occurred to me that Ben’s desperate act of shaving might have been a cry for more ball love. Okay, it didn’t occur to me so much as it was told to me by Brad after I greeted him in the morning with the following question.
“Hey Brad, do you shave your testicles?”
He choked on his coffee, declined my offer of performing the Heimlich (Why does no one ever take me up on that?!), and then said that sometimes, on special occasions, he’s inclined to take a razor to the old gonads.
“Do the ladies like that?” I asked.
“Sarah did.”
“Ugh! You are so gross!”
“Let me guess,” Brad said, cracking up at himself. “Ben shaved his balls for you, and you didn’t appreciate it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You just greeted me with a question about my ball hair. You kind of opened the door.”
He had a point. I confirmed that, yes -- that was the abbreviated version of what had happened.
“He probably wants you to touch his balls more,” he said. “Or wax your pubes.”
I decided to try the former first, and then if I saw no movement (literally and figuratively), I’d let him see what was behind door #2. I wasn’t looking forward to the latter, though – it’s been my experience that if you do that sort of thing once, it becomes a frequent request. And topping the list of things that I don’t find fun? Getting waxed. Okay, maybe it doesn’t top the list, but it’s definitely top 5. After watching football and eating salads.
Later that night, I busted out a few of these moves. And not to toot my horn too much, but I pretty much rocked his world. So ladies? Balls. Get in there. Trust me.
“Someone is certainly full of surprises tonight,” Ben said afterward, lightly running his fingers along my lower abdomen. “First I find out you like The Killers, and now this.”
“Mr. Brightside is easily one of the best songs written in the last decade,” I said matter-of-factly. “And I should know, because I’m something of a music connoisseur.”
He was still idly exploring the area around my bellybutton, and suddenly stopped for a moment to consider my lady parts. “Have you ever gotten waxed down there?” he asked.
I burst out laughing.
“What?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing. “But you just tried so hard to make it sound like that question just occurred to you, and it was so obvious that you had planned out exactly how you were going to ask me. So now I have a question for you – did you shave because you wanted me to pay more attention to that area, or because you wanted me to shave?”
“Both,” he admitted. “Plus, it’s been really hot, and I’ve been sweating balls, literally.”
“I’ll get waxed,” I said. “As long as we’re clear that it’s a once-in-a-while, special occasion kind of thing, not something I’m going to do all the time.”
“Deal.”
Posted at 10:02 AM
