Mr. ‘Face and I share a Google calendar. We do this because his job is shift-based, and mine is freelance, and otherwise, we’d never have any idea of what was coming up or where we were supposed to be. So it was with some amusement that I recently spotted the following entry in the calendar:
Tuesday: Dr. Whackit (call Monday to confirm)
Because I am a sensitive spouse, I immediately asked him about it.
“Say,” I said. “The calendar tells me that you have a very important appointment coming up on Tuesday. No pun intended.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m sure it won’t be at all awkward. I guess I’ll just go up to the desk and say, ‘I’m here to masturbate in your closet.'”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m sure they have a special masturbation room.”
“Maybe they’ll have some new porn,” he said hopefully. Here, I must say that I really never give him enough credit for his optimism, but I’m sure it’s keeping his blood pressure low and his cholesterol right in the zone.
The day of his appointment, I didn’t have any deadlines till later, so I slept in. He kissed me goodbye, jingling his keys in his pocket and holding up his prescription, which he’d been told to present to the front desk at his appointment.
“Thanks for putting my prescription to masturbate out where I could find it,” he said. “By the way, do we know why there’s a prescription? I have an appointment.”
“I don’t know. In case you want to take it to your doctor instead?”
He nodded, like that was very reasonable. “‘Yes, hello, please tell Dr. Thomas that I need to make an appointment to masturbate in his office,'” he said in his telephone voice. “‘No, I just don’t feel comfortable in front of anyone else.'”
“You could just do it where you usually do it,” I said, stifling laughter. “In the supermarket. In the produce aisle, when the nuns come by to do their weekly shopping.”
“‘Yes, hello, excuse me: I need to make an appointment to masturbate. Of course I’ve got a prescription. That OTC pud-juggling simply won’t do for OUR baby.” Pause. “Did you fart?”
I covered my face with hands. Not with the blankets. Understandably. “I’m sorry. It snuck out while I was laughing.”
“Well, I have to go masturbate now, so I guess just lie here and fart until I get back and I’ll let you know how it went.”
“OK, have fun, honey.”
“Oh, I won’t.”
“Happy masturbating, and all that!”
Image: animaster at Flickr