Well it's that time of year again--Gay Pride--that joyous, yearly celebration where gay men in their 40s watch gay men in their 20s and say to themselves, "what the hell happened". Sorry to sound like Shleprock from the Flintstones, but something happened this morning that set me off.
What follows may be T.M.I. for some, so feel free to stop reading. For those of you who are continuing...I am about to talk about manscaping. I'm usually pretty good about "mowing the lawn in the southland", but being pretty busy, I am embarrassed to say that my shrubs were a bit overgrown. This morning before showering I looked down and said, "I really ought to do something about this mess". Just as I was about to pull out my weed whacker, I noticed an unusual glimmer of light coming from my nether regions. The sunlight from the bathroom window was reflecting off three giant grey pubic hairs. Henceforth I shall refer to these hairs as "The Triplets".
The Triplets presence was shocking to me. I had never really seen them before and couldn't help but notice that they looked like accents in a floral display. I couldn't believe that it had come to this. I started losing the hair on my head at 30 so I buzzed it all off. What was left quickly started turning grey. The good thing about being bald is that it creates the illusion that I am not getting older. (Of course it helps if you perform in in a 2000 seat theatre.) But the foliage by my peeper? That is the final frontier. A reminder that time does march on and that the Triplets will prevail.
But how to deal with this torment. I needed to make a decision quickly. Not that I'm planning on getting lucky or anything this weekend, but knowing that these unwelcome visitors are living in my underpants is setting my self-esteem into a spiral. So with clippers in hand, I bid farewell to the Triplets until they reappear in a month with additional friends.
However in my haste to rid these monsters from my tender loins, the clippers slipped causing me to now look like a pre-pubescent boy. So now I really look like a freak in his late-mid-forties trying to be a twink in his early twenties.
Well, the Triplets are gone, and so is everything else. A victory garden, if you will, encouraging young things to grow. But so help me...if those bitchy Triplets come back...I'm getting waxed!
In the meantime, I'm going to go to the festival knowing that I have a little secret. So if you see me this weekend and ask about the Triplets, I'm gonna open up a can 'o whoop-ass!