A SECRET CABAL OF BALL SHAVERS
by Benn Ray
I'll admit it, I'm impressionable.
Back in my college days, I was hanging out with some pals. We were getting drunk and one said something to the effect of, "I can put this cigarette out on my foot without it hurting me! It's mind over matter."
Being a good friend, I encouraged this.
So he gave it a shot and shortly after pointed out that his choice of location, the ball of his foot, may not have been the best because while he was able to withstand the agony of putting the cigarette out, each step he took afterward sent waves of pain through his body as a means of reminding him of his stupidity.
Minutes later, a second friend decided to put a cigarette out on himself. He, however, went for the back of his hand. This left a bright red blistery burn that would then have to be explained to anyone who noticed it, and "I got drunk and put a cigarette out on myself," just wouldn't have the same cool sound in the clear light of day as it did during the drunken evening.
I thought this exercise in cigarette self-mutilation was incredibly idiotic, and I ridiculed my friends. A lot.
However, over the following week, I found myself obsessing about it, thinking if they could do it, I could do it. And just maybe, I was missing out on something.
So that weekend I got drunk and proved something to myself. I put a cigarette out on a part of my body that I strategically chose so that I wouldn't have to step on the wound or show it to people. Of course, I happened to select location that was more sensitive than the sole of a foot or the back of the hand: the soft white flesh of my mid-forearm.
If this was an insolated occurrence, than that would be one thing. But it's not.
I had a friend who I'd mock mercilessly for shaving his chest. Usually, he'd shave his body hair into a manly "V" so that with his shirt on you would see hair, but with his shirt off he'd be pretty much hairless. It was sort of like a self-grown dickey. Sometimes he'd shave a dollar sign in his chest, and once I talked him into shaving an iconic, communist hammer/sickle (I was going through a Marxist phase at the time). This was a complicated feat, but he had superior chest grooming skills.
Eventually I got stupid drunk and shaved a stripe down the center of my chest. I didn't shave the whole thing because, well, while I'm not hirsute in the way that Robin Williams is, I'm a, let's say, masculine man, and shaving the whole chest would have been too much of a hassle. Too time consuming.
The next day I woke up feeling stupid and embarrassed, but the worst thing was I woke up feeling itchy. Specifically, I was scratching like fuck where the hair used to be.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how we got on the subject, but it was last weekend, we were at a party and we started talking about "The Taint."
A few people in the party didn't know what a taint was (ask a friend if you don't know), some thought talking about it was gross, and a small faction unconvincingly insisted that "The Gooch" was another, legitimate name for "The Taint," even though its origins seem to rest in a Ben Stiller movie.
Somehow the taint conversation lead to ball shaving (you know, guys who shave their testicles). I was shocked at how many men at this party shaved their balls.
Now, call me old fashioned (which would be an odd thing to call me, but whatever), but I always feel uncomfortable around a heterosexual guy who admits to shaving anything other than his face. Bicyclists who shave their legs strike me as freakish. I pity those who feel they have to shave their forearms or backs. And I openly mock, as I already mentioned, any man who shaves his chest.
So why should ball shaving be any different?
This brought up a series of questions that were not adequately answered by the sack shavers at the party.
The following night we were at Frazier's drinking. After last call, a group of us ended up outside gabbing, and again the subject of ball shaving came up. I was surprised to be the only guy in the group who had never shaved his balls. I had infiltrated a secret cabal of ball shavers, and I felt creeped out by it. At the time I swore I was going to out them. I was going to let everyone know in the Shank who these Skull & Bones of the scrotum world are, and you'd be shocked if I listed names. But, frankly, they seem Illuminati-like, and that scares me.
Trying to understand it, I was given a variety of reasons, from comfort to making the penis look bigger to heightened sensitivity during sex, etc.
However, these explanations only raised more questions.
For example:
If you shave your balls for comfort, exactly how much hair do you have down there that causes you discomfort?
If you shave your balls to make your penis look larger, 1) how small is your dick that you have to rely on optical illusions, and 2) why are you standing for long periods of time, naked in front of people?
How did you originally come up with the idea that taking a razor to your nut sack might have a pleasurable result?
If you shave for sensitivity, how insensitive is your penis? And if it is insensitive, have you ever thought of trying a pinkie up the poophole instead of lathering up the balls?
But now, after spending about a week thinking about shaving testicles, my only remaining question is, well, when does the itching stop?
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