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Official website of Seattle-area actor and writer Nathaniel Jones

Worries (Male PMS)

  Ladies and gentlemen, I have come before you all hoping that you will not laugh at my situation. I don't. This is a very serious matter, and though you usually think of me as a light hearted, cheery fellow, this message is not intended to make you laugh. You see, last night, I had some trouble falling asleep. I had a terrible head ache, and it was so hot that I tossed away my blankets, yet I still was sweating. To calm myself, I turned on the radio, where a girl caller was having the same symptoms I was. I listened in, hoping to find out the source of my ailment. The radio doctor diagnosed her with PMS.

This worried me, because I, being a guy, had never had PMS before this time. In health, I was never warned about this kind of thing. The girls, yes, but never the guys! I didn't know what to do, so I lyed (layed?) back down, knowing that I would not get anymore sleep, not with the thought that soon I would surely be getting my "friend", as I've so often heard it referred to. I'm so confused! I've seen commercials, and I went to the store, but all I could find were. . . "products" for ladies. I asked in the mens section, but nothing came close. I picked up a package for ladies, took it home. I didn't know where to put it, you know, since I don't have a. . . woo hoo. I figured the penis was the male equivalent, so I pulled off the paper backing on the pad and stuck it on. Then I had to pee, though, so I ripped it off.

It was the single most painful experience of my life. Trust me, fellas, don't try this at home. I don't know how girls do this, once a month. And then you need to wax after that? I don't know, maybe it's just to even out the baldness, but. . . Anyway, I was in the bathroom for maybe an hour, trying different lotions, creams, gels, anything that would stop the pain. Once I cooled of, I had this pad with a giant hunk of hair stuck to it, and I had to figure out what to do with it. I didn't want to put it in the garbage can, cos' somebody might see it. And I didn't want to flush it, because it's supposed to be absorbent, I was afraid it would dry up the toilet. Cause a water shortage or something.

Eventually I decided to hide it in my shirt, then sneak it out to the dumpster, where it would never be seen again. I folded it over, so as not to accidentally re-apply it to my chest hair, and walked calmly out to the curb. I had just reached under my shirt and pulled out the hairy "napkin" and was about the toss it, when my extremely attractive female neighbor rode by on roller-skates, and my natural reaction was to wave hello, which I did. The only thing was that without thinking, I accidentally waved with the hand holding my feminine hygiene product. Of course, she stopped and came back to me, wondering what it was I had waved at her when she rolled by. My mind ran, searching for a plausible answer. None came too mind. "Hey, what's that?" she asked. Perfectly innocent question, I'm sure, but at that moment in time, it was that question which caused my whole world to stop spinning. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. I just stared at her, hoping she would think I didn't hear her, and change the subject.

As it happened, the fates were working against me that day. She reached into my hand and pulled out the pad, looking at it with a look of curiosity. I didn't say anything. I was hoping that at some point my alarm would go off, pulling me out of this situation, and back to my real life. "What are you doing with this?" she asked. I couldn't think, so I just opened my mouth. "I'm throwing it away." I replied. "Oh." she said. Then she tossed it into the garbage can, and skated away. I was somewhat relieved, but still more scared than I had been in my entire life. I kept thinking, what must she think of me right now?"

I walked back into the house, sweating worse than ever. I sat down, started reading the paper. Read the weather reports. Well, apparently, last night was one of the hottest nights on record. And then, after seeing that, I looked at the bottle of what I thought had been caffeine free orange soda. Yes, the two liter bottle. The one that I drank all of right before I went to bed. So, as it turns out, I don't have PMS. I had a caffeine high on a hot night. The moral of the story is this: The next time you can't sleep, it’s a good idea to think before slapping an extremely sticky object, to an extremely sensitive area, where those objects aren't meant to go. Take it from me. I know from experience.

THE END



2009 - Nathaniel Jones