I was going to think up some hilariously witty backstory to what I am about to tell you. But then I realised it was pretty much funny enough on it’s own.
The BF spontaneously corked himself in the nuts last night.
One would think that menfolk would have a supreme radar that prevented any harm befalling that area. Apparently the radar does not pick up friendly fire, so to speak.
It reminds me of a story my Dad told me. He was a semi-well known rock star in Perth in the 70’s, and while on tour in Darwin, after an heroic show in a club somewhere, he and his band mate took to the dance floor with enthusiasm. Dad began dancing in the 70’s style, and whilst swinging his arms in a groovy fashion, reigned hell unto himself by unintentionally punching himself in the nuts.
Shit. This story still makes me laugh uncontrollably.
Needless to say, his vanity was extremely wounded as he crawled from the dance floor. So glad I inherited the ladygarden rather than the family jewels.