Every morning I wake up at 3 AM, very thirsty. I stumble out to the kitchen and drink juice right from the carton. I look down and notice that I am sporting wood. It is straining against my briefs. There isn't much I can do about it. Masturbating at that hour would be pathetic. And besides, I don't do that anymore. My wife wouldn't appreciate having her slumber disturbed. So I go back to sleep with this raging hard-on.
The alarm rousts me at 6:30. I still have the boner. But I go about my business, getting ready for work. Now it's annoying to be sure, but I didn't know until recently that it was a life-threatening medical emergency. Yes, I'm watching TV and I hear....this: Erections lasting longer than four hours, though rare, Require Immediate Medical Attention.
Who knew? I am sure there is a feminine equivalent, where she's walking around secreting copious quantities of vaginal fluid for hours on end. I'm sure it happens around Brad Pitt all the time.
Of course, seeking Immediate Medical Attention is easier said than done. In my case it requires the blessing of my PCP, the same one who stamped my chart thusly: "Drug Seeking Behaviors Noted. Do Not Dispense Narcotic Painkillers to Him Under Any Circunstance." Yet twice, she has assented. Once I sustained a nasty gash on my hand. I tracked her down and she asked, "Would you say it is oozing or gushing blood?" I said, "Well, I'd say it's spurting." The other time a hemmorhoid burst and blood was flowing profusely from my ass. My wife tried gamely to stem the tide to no avail. (Forget the ass/mouth thing. This is the definition of True Love.) So I go to the ER and am left cooling my heels for half an hour. There's a gathering pool of blood at my feet. When the intake nurse deigned to speak with me, I swear she asked, "So what seems to be the problem today?" Seems to be? There seems to be blood pouring out of my ass and down my pants leg. I've only got about a quart left to carry oxygen to my brain. Other than that, everything's cool.
But let's just suppose you could run the gauntlet laid down by your HMO and gain an audence with the surly intake nurse like Dorothy groveling before the Wizard of Oz.
Intake Nurse: So what seems to be the problem today?
Prospective Patient: Well, I've had this raging hard-on for four hours.
Intake Nurse: So what?
Prospective Patient: Mike Ditka told me to get back in the game but I never imagined it would be like this. Here, look.
Intake Nurse: That will be quite alright. Sir, take a look around you. There are people with gaping head wounds, people with comminuted fractures. You have the nerve to waltz in here and complain that you've got a boner that won't quit?
Prospective Patient: Well, yeah.
Intake Nurse: Might I suggest you stare at this for a while?
I used to have the same problem. I tried several 'solutions', with varying degrees of success (and, um... messiness), but finally found something that works every time:
When that stubborn stiffie gets me down -- or up, rather -- I just think of how friggin' high my mortgage payment is.
That shrivels the little fella right up, guaranteed. Now, if I could just stop thinking of the house payments during actual sex... *grumble*
by Charlie at February 14, 2004 12:20 AM
What a great idea! I'll start thinking about my $10,000 Master Card debt and how Citibank reserves the right to triple my rate at the drop of a hat. *shrivels to infant size*
by anna at February 14, 2004 8:27 AM
I dunno, does having it at 3:00 and 6:30 mean you had it all the sleeping hours between? I thought they magically always wake up five minutes before you do.
by Linz at February 16, 2004 10:07 AM
Good question. I have no way to know. But I do know I curse morning breath on a daily basis.
by anna at February 16, 2004 6:04 PM