I remember standing in Times Square when I was on December 31st 1999 with the world in front of me. I was a 23 year old kid with no responsibilities, mortgage or real worries and stood there on the 49th and Broadway the only issue with standing there was that my buddies and I brought a few cases of beer and the cops wouldn't let you out of the area after you got in there so three hours into the festivities we were finding ourselves needing to relieve ourselves in the discarded bottles.
Like I said, except for this minor bladder inconvenience the world stood in front of us and there was nothing that could bother us as we counted down the seconds for the ball to drop. Little did I know that evening back in 1999 would be a precursor to the rest of my life..
I swear that there are at least 3 nights per week where I get up in the middle of the night to take a leak.. I used to be able to drive to Boston and back chugging 40 ounces of coffee and hold it in the entire ride. But getting up a couple of times at night isn't such a problem; it's the fact that like the anticipation of that New Years eve, I have found that my balls have dropped. Now as many of the regular TOR readers are well aware of, my sacks has always hung low, but nobody could have prepared me for the fact that I now feel like I'm carrying a bowling ball between my legs. If I'm not wearing boxer briefs or a fairly tight pair of pants, they are clacking between my legs like one of those desk-top pendulum things
I was at a wedding a few weeks ago in a full Indian kurta pyjama dress and at one point when I got low-low-low I swear my sack scraped the floor.
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