Mom, I think my left testicle is larger than the right one,\ I calmly told her one day in high school, trying to avoid my father's complete overreaction of the situation.
""Oh,"" my mother said and promptly entered the living room to tell my father.
Shouting angrily from the other room as though I was caught reading Playboy at age 13, my father yelled, ""What! When did this happen? When were you going to tell your mother and I? You know this could be cancerous, right!?""
After arguing with my father about why I didn't want our next door neighbor, who was a doctor, to examine me because I knew him, we made an appointment at the hospital.
I showed up for the ultrasound a week later, and the most smoking-hot nurse I've ever seen in real life or on celluloid greeted me. ""Hi Jonathan, I'm Natasha,"" she said. Good grief, thank God Natasha is not doing the procedure.
Five minutes after the nurse showed me how to put the gown on and where to lie down, there was a knock on the door. Natasha entered, and I wondered what she was doing back in the examination room.
""You have seen ultrasounds on T.V., right? I just want to warn you that the gel I have to use is a little warm,"" she said with a smile. Oh, my God! I suddenly realized that Natasha was not a nurse; she was an ultrasound specialist.
While I was panicking in my head about how this hot 34-year-old vixen was about to touch my privates, she calmly laid my manhood onto a towel and stated, ""I'm just going to move you here."" I almost burst out laughing.
Gloop went the gel as she liberally applied the very HOT substance onto my unsuspecting friends. ""Whoa, that stuff is hot!"" I exclaimed.
While she rubbed the ultrasound wand on my scrotum, a thought jumped into my head. I realized that a different time when I was 13 and reading Playboy, this same exact scene turned into hot patient-nurse sexual relations.
While the dream of most guys was actually happening to me, I had a second thought: There was no goddamned way this routine medical procedure was going to yield me some sort of fellatiotic ecstasy.
No more than one millisecond later, I was suddenly horrified when I realized all these thoughts about sex could definitely produce an erection; consequently, I immediately started thinking about the ever-so-popular erection-reducer, baseball.
While I was hoping that my visit to the hospital would complete one of my exotic fantasies, I knew deep down that there was no chance I would be able to truthfully brag about a crazy sexual encounter, even if I crossed my fingers really hard.
Why do television shows and pornography tease us with these ideas that underneath the professional clipboard-carrying nurse, there lies a sexually-charged wildcat who wants nothing else but to jump our bones when the examination room door closes?
Though I know next time I'm at the hospital I will be let down when I don't get it on with the nurse, at least Playboy has given the 13-year-old boy inside me something to hope for.
A noncommunicating hydrocele is a condition occurring in approximately 15 percent of men. E-mail similar stories to jwsteffen@wisc.edu.
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