'Every Fucking Campaign Or Kill Had A Reference To My Dick Or Balls'

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Hi Simon, 

I've had this bitch of a condition for the past two years. A few months after it hit I took up the offer to visit an old college pal in another city. It was the first time I'd stayed out anywhere since I was diagnosed with chronic prostatitis. I still needed to pee every ten minutes (still do) but I thought the distraction and change of scenery would boost my mood. 

His friends would be visiting to play a Halo tournament. After a few beers, I thought fuck it and decided to get it off my chest and tell them about my prostatitis symptoms. I told them everything from the pain in my lower back to the agony of erections. I tried to sound casual but they fucking annihilated me. 

My condition became the butt of every joke with my college friend leading the insults. Every fucking campaign or kill had a reference to my dick or balls. None of them had understood what I'd said. 

Anyway, they left and I crashed in the spare room but not before sneaking a cooking pot from the kitchen to my room. I peed in that fucking thing all night and in the morning before my friend got up, gave it a very light rinse and put it back. 

When I came back downstairs a few hours later I found him stood next to the stove. The pot I'd used was on a hot plate. He said he was cooking scrambled eggs and did I want any. I told him no thanks and that cereal would be fine. 

When he took a bite of his food he grabbed the egg carton. 'What's up?', I said, terrified he suspected something. 

'Just checking the date. Bit of a funky taste. Must be because they're organic.' He sat back down and dug in.

'Yeah man, that's it. It must be that organic taste', I said, enjoying my Cheerios. 

Daniel L, 25, Cleveland, Ohio


IMAGE PROVIDED BY: michaeljung/istockphoto

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