To Reddit user gruulsloth’s credit, I’ll say that I’m impressed that he actually listened to his girlfriend and did something she asked of him. Whenever I ask my boyfriend to do something he either plays dumb until I give up and just stop asking or…nope, that’s really it. There’s also the possibility that he’s actually just a dumbass and doesn’t know how to follow instructions, but that really has nothing to do with gruulsloth’s misadventure into manscaping.
I would use a throwaway for this, but I have no shame.
Recently my girlfriend and I have been talking about grooming. She said she wanted to try and shave herself bare ‘down there’ and I asked if she would like me to do something about my peen afro, dreading the response. She said I should probably trim to about half size for practicality’s sake, and of course I agreed.
I should mention at this point that not once in my life thus far had I taken a blade to that most holy of places, and had allowed my fuzz to grow wild and free as Mother Nature intended. Clean as a whistle and soft as down, my carpet was my pride and joy.
So this morning (UK time) I sat buck naked over the toilet like Butters, a pair of “safety” scissors in front of me and Sherwood forest sprawling out over the bowl. My hand trembled as I reached for the scissors, my mind flashing back to every time the barber told me to stay still else he might accidentally cut my ear off. Ever so slowly, I opened the blades and snipped off the first chunk of long and curlies.
“There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
Confident now, I cut away more and more, hacking through my gentleman jungle with some pace. Admiring my handiwork, I started to get more ambitious, cutting closer and closer to my soft, pale skin. A glorious mound of hair grew in the toilet bowl. And then it happened. I saw it a moment too late. As the blades snapped shut, a tiny piece of nutsack flesh was sliced clean off with the pubes.
My eyes watered from the stinging wound and the shock, and blood welled to the quarter inch wound. I flung the scissors down and grabbed a handful of toilet paper as a rivulet of blood ran down my balls. Clutching the paper to my bleeding bollocks I slid on my dressing gown and half ran, half waddled downstairs, doing my best to look normal as I walked passed our security camera. Heading to the kitchen cupboard, I snatched out the First Aid box and rifled through it for a plaster. All we had remaining was a kiddy dinosaur plaster. Fuck it, it would have to do.
The damn thing wouldn’t stick, the remaining hair and ball sack wrinkles wouldn’t allow the plaster to maintain contact. Panicking, I threw the plaster away and went back upstairs to the shower. I needed to make sure the wound was clean so it wouldn’t get infected. I showered quickly on a high heat, and it looked like the bleeding was stopping, but as soon as I came out and dried my balls with the towel the wound reopened and blood trickled from it once more.
Then, in a stroke of what I humbly describe as pure genius, a cunning plan came to me. I took a thick sheet of kitchen roll and hunted through the drawers for one of my sister’s hair bobbles, proceeding to wrap my jewels up like a crispy wanton to soak any blood up till the bleeding stops, using the bobble to secure the kitchen roll in place. Thankfully I managed to find one tight enough to keep it together and yet loose enough that blood would still circulate.
I sit here now typing this, with my junk looking like knockoff Eastern cuisine, not daring to see if it’s finally over. I’m never ever putting scissors anywhere near my plums again.
EDIT – TL;DR Tried to trim my pubes, cut a chunk of my balls off. OH GOD THE BLEEDING. Balls now look like a party snack.
For those who still haven’t figured out what a “hair bobbie” is, it’s a hair tie; he tied a paper towel around his nuts using a hair tie to secure it. Which, in all honesty, is pretty genius on his part.
[H/T Reddit]