It was an accident, honest!

Just Call Me Homo “Erectus”

On how a public erection made my day!

As we men get older, certain issues arise that complicate our ability to, shall we say, get aroused. Swollen prostates, certain medications, and lower testosterone are just some of the many issues that plague us. At this older age, on those rare occasions when we get those spontaneous erections we used to get, we want to run around like Stuart on Saturday Night Live shouting, “Look what I can do!”

Sometimes we miss the old days when we awoke with “morning wood.” Sometimes we miss those spontaneous erections that embarrassed us when we were teens. Remember walking the hallways in high school carrying your books in front of your crotch? Remember waiting to be the last one to get up in class because of the uncontrollable spontaneous erection you got while napping in English class? Remember the woody you got when the pretty, young biology teacher’s nipples became erect and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them, and your mind filled with the fantasies of what you would do with them if you could just. . .er, maybe that was just me. But she was HOT!

Remember when you were dancing the slow dance with your Homecoming date and, well, “it” happened and she backed away in surprise and said, “Oops!” Then went and told all her friends and. . .well, maybe that was just me, too.

As embarrassing as it was for me back then, what I wouldn’t give for that spontaneity today, even if it was just because I had to pee real badly. Well, the other day I kind of got my wish.

I recently went to pick up a new prescription from my pharmacy. A pretty, young Asian 30-something female pharmacist came over to consult on the medicine. She was the usual stoic, medical professional, but she had a slight accent and spoke very quietly. Here’s how it went:

Pharmacist: “Hi, my name is _____, I’m the pharmacist. Do you have any drug allergies you are aware of?” Me: “No, not that I’m. . .uh, aware of. . .oh, that’s right, you said ‘aware of,’ sorry.” I laughed my cute, embarrassed laugh. No reaction from the cute pharmacist. My laugh must not be as cute as I thought. Ph: “Have you taken this before?” Me: “Nope.” Might as well play it straight. Ph: “Okay. Take it with food, about a half hour before you go to bed, stop taking it and call your doctor if. . .blah, blah, blah.” I kinda, sorta started tuning her out. Me: “Um, okay. Can I take it with ibuprofen?” Ph: “Yes. Oh, and be aware of a possible uncommon side effects. . .” She starts to grin in a shy, disarming way. . .but doesn’t finish. Me: After a few seconds of embarrassed silence (her this time, not me). “Yeeeessss? Those would be. . .?” Ph: Speaking quietly, “You might get a mumble, mumble election. . . mumble, mumble. . .hour to four. . .” Me: “Okay. . .wait, what? An election? What?” Ph: Louder. “An ERECTION!” Me: Laughing to show I was cool. “Oh. Well, no problem. It’ll be interesting to see one of those again.” I’m being funny. . .she laughs. . .politely. Me: Pause, as my brain catches up. “Wait! HOW long?” Ph: She glances around, then conspiratorially whispers, “You might get an erection that lasts one to four hours.” Giggle, giggle. Oh, boy, now THAT was cute. Me: “Oh, no problem. I guess I shouldn’t take the medicine before work then, huh?” She busts out laughing. I’m sooo funny! Starting to find my rhythm, now. Ph: With a sly grin, she says, “I don’t know. What kind of work do you do?” Okay. . .she’s funnier. Me: Leaning forward, placing my elbow on the counter, and stroking my grey goatee. “Should I tell my wife?” I’m trying to salvage some dignity. Ph: “Well, she might get tired after about 5 minutes and wonder, ‘That’s unusual. What’s up with that?’” Me: Silence. “I got nothin’.” So, I left.

Once in my car, I decided to try it out. I wondered if I would be susceptible to that “uncommon side effect.” After all, I am not a “common” man, heh, heh. I drove across the street to the local fast food joint and grabbed a burger at the drive thru. After finishing the burger, I popped the pill to see if, indeed, the old “Elvis the Pelvis” still had any magic left.

I stayed in the parking lot for about an hour and read all those sex stories on Medium that were allegedly written by women, but no magic happened. “Elvis” was NOT in the building. I guess I wasn’t susceptible to the “uncommon side effects.” Darn! I headed home.

On the way, I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick up some things for dinner. While picking through the Gherkin pickles, I realized I was feeling pretty good. That medication was doing its job.

Out of nowhere, a man comes up to me and says, “Hi! How you doing? You doing okay?” I was like, stunned. Even though I’m not gay, I don’t mind having an attractive young man hit on me. It kinda makes my day. I realized I must have looked particularly fetching in my spandex bike shorts and Bob Seger t-shirt. So, go ahead, call me “Papa Bear!”

I replied, with my cute smile,“I am doing well. Thanks for asking. You? You doing okay?” He looked a little nervous. It was probably his first time meeting someone as handsome as me.

He said, “Sure, yeah, thanks, no problem.” He lingered a little while. . .I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t want to, you know, lead him on. But I felt flattered. . .made me feel kind of good. Then he walked away and stopped to talk to the lady standing a few feet away from me. At that point, I got a little jealous. I’m thinking, “Hey! What about me?” Not that anything was going to happen, but still. . .

After a few moments, he walks back towards me, and I’m thinking, No way, pal! You just blew it. Then I see the little apron he has on and I’m thinking, “What’s up with that?” That’s when it dawned on me! He works here.

He approached me a little hesitantly, which I understood. I mean, I am a big guy; 6'4" and 250 pounds of semi-solid muscle under a few inches of adipose tissue. He clears his throat, and looks down, then back up at my face, then down again, then back up and “Ahems” a few times.

“What?” I said.

“Sir. You can’t bring that into the store. We have a complaint.” He pointed at my crotch.

“Son,” I said. “Bike shorts aren’t illegal. Plus, they make my butt look really good.”

“Not the shorts, sir. That. . .thing.” He points at my crotch, again.

I look down. There, bigger than life, was an erection. All four inches in all its glory! Well, what do you know? It worked! I was so proud, I immediately thanked him and tried to hug him. I never saw someone back up so fast.

I handed him my little carry basket, and slowly walked out of the store, proud of my glory. No one else noticed, though. Apparently a four inch erection in black pants on an overweight guy is hard, er, difficult to see unless you’re up close, like that busybody lady who couldn’t appreciate a little excitement.

I rushed home to surprise the wife, but she was gone when I got home. In all my excitement, I had forgotten she was at work. Disappointed, I got some cookies and milk and sat down. I watched my crotch like it was an episode of The Kardashians. Thirty minutes later, my erection deflated like the baby Trump balloon at the University of Alabama football game. There went my first afternoon wood in years. Looks like no happy ending for me.

Unfortunately, I had to tell my doctor, and he switched my medication. To this day, my wife won’t believe what a glorious day I had. I should have taken a picture. Hey, I wonder if I can get the store surveillance video? Nah, resolution is probably too low. I know! A sworn statement from the store clerk. Or maybe, I could go to Mexico and get some of that medication without a prescription.

I will have my glory again!

Now, where is that passport? Time’s a wastin’!

Wow! Sherry McGuinn was awesome with all of the assistance she gave me. Thank you so much for the help, the patience, and the editorial suggestions.