My wife does not appreciate my nuts (probably TMI. probably.)

No clever double entendres. That there entendre’s a single. I’m talking about my testicles, my balls, my goody bag, etc.

Earlier this evening, I was sitting in my computer room in my boxers, browsing the internet, and finding an interesting site in which waitresses complain about celebrities that they’ve waited on, when I suddenly had the testicle itch.

For the untesticled, there are many different forms of testicle itch. Most are simply an excuse to touch yourself. A lot of testicle itches are more of a testicle longing. Your testicle sends out tiny little waves of yearning, telling you that they need to be touched, fondled, pushed from side to side, pulled away from your thighs. They need to be rubbed, and that’s how you let them know that you love them. Sometimes a testicle itch is just that, an itch. And sometimes, its fungal.

But that’s gross. This was more of a “how do you do” nut rub, just to let the little guys feel special. During my groping, for reasons entirely unknown to me, I decided to give the little fellas a glance.

Testicles, and in fact, most sexual organs, are not attractive. The people that they belong to can be attractive, but the goodies themselves are generally not pretty. Try as you may, dress them up with piercings, or clever shavings, or tattoos, or even a little bowtie if you’re an outie, genitals just can’t be made to look like much more than random globs of skin.

Imagine my surprise to realize that I have not just an ordinary ugly pair, but in fact a great pair of testicles. They are big, without being ostentatious, firm and round, not gorilla hairy, but having a nice furry quality. Red and veiny, but not dangerously engorged and distasteful. The ever so slight piquancy added to their mystique. I admired my testicles, bouncing them to and fro.

“Blimey,” I thought. “I got to show the wife!”

So I traipse into the bedroom where my wife is reading on our bed, hike up one leg of my boxers, pull my now-suddenly-unremarkable-looking penis aside, and exclaim to wife “Have a look at this!” I stood on tip-toe to try to give her an eye-level view of my goodies.

Wouldn’t you know it? She thought I was trying to show her *something wrong * with my nuts. She squinted at them, cocked an eyebrow, and shrugged.

“They’re remarkable, aren’t they?” I asked, my hope dwindling. Apparently, they weren’t. She turned back to her book. She did not admire their heft, their exotic aroma, their aesthetic qualities. In fact, she did not admire them at all!

Pity me, for my wife does not appreciate my wonderful nuts.

You poor, poor man. How will you go on?

Try dipping them in chocolate.

Did I just say that?

No, no, no. They have to be properly caramelized. Everyone knows that.



I sympathize, but if there’s an “exotic aroma”, that may be part of the issue.

You sure you only got ball, and didn’t slip somewhere a bit, um…more exotic?

See, this shows that girls just don’t get it. They simply can’t.

There are three places on your body that you can scratch at any time for any reason and it feels good:
your balls
your head
your ass

Girls, because you are what you are, are only capable of two of those three. Because of this, they feel they need to marginalize the one they don’t have. Now, because we’re guys, we know about balls. It’s not just a sperm generator (of course, they do that, but they’re multipurpose, you see) they’re a sense of being.

Respect the balls. Guys feel a connection with a gal that is one with the guys. I’m sure a gal that has such an affinity will step forward and testify to her heathen sisters and convert them to the Sisterhood of the Orb.

This is a man thing. Unfortunatly, many women will open this thread (as I had) and If women itch down there it probably is an infection of some sort and not something that we admire.

I am very happy for you that you have…very…ni…

I can’t even get it out. LOL

The really neat thing about them is that if you just leave them along and watch them they play together. Rolling this way and that. It’s mesmerizing.

Rackinfrackin’ spell check!

I meant to say “Leave them alone.”

Oh,yeah, that is cool. It’s like a poor man’s lava lamp. I could watch it for ages, but usually if I’m down there I get a little distracted by other goings-on in that general area.

Also, a friend of mine whose ex-girlfriend is in med school said that she used to do this thing where she’d run a sharp fingernail up his thigh and his testicles would retreat into his body, to get away from the sharp object approaching them. Apparently it’s some kind of reflex?

I may be the only person on earth who thinks this, but: I definitely think there are “grades” of testicles. It’s all about how low they hang, symmetry, roundness, smoothness, and, yes, size. There’s a porn star I just cannot stand to watch because he has turkey balls - which is about as appealing as breasts that sag down to the stomach.

Two-click rule applies; you have to click on the “turkey balls” folder to see the goods.

Cremasteric. Is the name of the reflex.

My husband informs me guys sometimes feel it for no particular reason in a fast elevator.

Women sometimes feel it. Because every structure in the male is an analogue of a structure in the female, we have a little fibrous rope running from our ovaries to the inside of the skin in our labia majora (would be scrotum if it fused up the front - which would allow no access to the playground, which would be a shame). If we hear about a sharp thing advancing towards a guy we care about, we get a little cremasteric reflex too.

That is, if we really care.

I am so sorry that I can’t muster a cremasteric reflex’ worth of care about your balls. I must be a truly unsympathetic woman…

gabriela, wondering what it would feel like if she could fondle her ovaries

why did I click on that? Why?? :smack:

gabriela, I just love your posts… Educational and freakin’ hilarious. I’m so glad you joined up.

As I recall, I’ve had this feeling on certain roller coasters and other amusement park rides (in particular, the viking ship!). A friend and I once had a discussion about it, which, IIRC, included being somewhat sorry for girls, since, having no testicles, they couldn’t possibly feel it.

Glad to hear we were maybe wrong. :smiley:

I now have two new favorite words, courtesy of the Dope: Cremasteric and Cromulent.
I shall now use them in every day conversation and see how many are in the know.

“That was a Cremasteric Retreat*.”

“Perfectly cromulent, if you ask me.”

Sidd Thank you for explaining one of life’s deeper (and disturbing) mysteries of a Man and his Scrotum. These hanging brains are referred to, by me, as The Command Post and I think if they are allowed free rein ( as it were) would try to take over the world through their ballsy evilness. This is why the women of this world have the job of giving the little buggers the veriatable smack down whenever they are getting cocky.
Your wife is a good agent in the war against the Hanging Brain Takeover.
Be a good lad and go and rub her feet now, will you?

*Band Name.

Don’t worry too hard. My first GYN exam featured my doctor fondling my ovaries. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, although I suppose it was better than a swift kick to the 'nads.

Interestingly, no doctor has done that again.


So THAT’s what that is!

Hmm… this might make explaining certain thrills to the guys easier… if I ever want to go there…

Can you link to this site? I think I’d be interested in it too.

My deepest apologies that I have nothing to contribute about your balls.

Yeah I’d also like to read the waitress site. And I also have no nut info/stories to add.