PigHunter has this "cabinet" that he's been working on for his "tools" in the garage. He's been building this "cabinet" for about a year. I have come to believe this is something he does to get out of having to do any kind of housework ("I can't help with the laundry because I'm building my cabinet! For my tools! So I have room to do things in the garage, like, build imaginary cabinets!")
I used to get pissed off about his stupid cabinet. Especially when he'd be like "I'm going to plant grass this weekend!" And hours would go by and grass wasn't planted because he'd wasted hours in the garage "cutting wood" for his "cabinet." But, I've come to accept the "cabinet" for what it really is.
His escape.
I have the computer. He has "the cabinet." We're even.
Last Friday night, he was in the garage working on "the cabinet" for most of the night. Just before 8, I heard him walk into the house. He walked into the kitchen and stood there. He looked a little pale, so I was all "You okay?" And he was all "yeah, I'm fine."
So I dropped it.
Later that night, we were sitting on the couch and he turns to me and says "Honey, please don't freak out. But..."
Which, of course, makes me want to FREAKTHEFUCKOUTBECAUSEOHMYGODWHATTHEHELL..WHAT?
"I have to tell you what just happened to me in the garage."
I was scared because any time he says "please don't freak out" it's totally something that warrants me freaking out (Example: "Honey, please don't freak out... but I got laid off today!")
He continued...
"While I was cutting a piece of wood, a 4 inch piece got caught in the blade, swung around (or something like that) and came flying at me at a very high rate of speed. And it hit me RIGHT HERE. (As he points VERY CLOSE to his ManHood.)
My reaction went a little something like this:
"What? Where? Is it okay? Are YOU okay? Did you damage it? CAN YOU STILL GET IT UP HERE LET ME SEE, LET ME TOUCH IT AND SEE IF YOU CAN STILL GET IT UP."
"Baby!" He said, while protecting his junk because I was trying to grab it and make it all stiff. "It didn't actually hit me there. It missed by an inch or two. It hit just above that right here by my (heheheeehe totally awkward but am going to say it) pubes."
"Oh my God. Can I see it? Is there a bruise? Are you sure your dick still works? Because, like, isn't there some wiring up in there that is vital to the erection process that could have been damaged and OH MY GOD SHOW ME YOU CAN STILL GET IT UP RIGHT NOW PLEASE."
He proceeded to tell me that when it hit him, it knocked the wind out of him. He also wasn't sure exactly where it had hit him because he was in so much pain. He said he walked to the corner of the garage, holding himself, worrying if he had just done something "really bad." After he was able to compose himself, he undid his pants to assess the damage. To his relief, there was no damage to The Goods. Just a huge bruise a couple of inches ABOVE The Goods. He said he was fine, but promised to go see the doctor if the pain was worse in the morning.
I can't tell you how many times I wanted to reach over that night in bed and "test it." Just, you know, give it a little rub, or maybe a little, [small voice]blow[/small voice] I resisted, for fear of hurting him or damaging things that could have possibly been broken.
The next day, we walked around acting as if he had almost lost his LIFE. We were traumatized at the idea that he came THIS CLOSE to seriously damaging his ManHood and "would I have left him if he had lost it?" Nothing like a Near Dick Loss Experience to make you appreciate that Piece O'Man Meat like you did back when you were 19 and worshiping it on a daily, if not every other hourly basis.
I really, really love you buy...TMI!