In case you don’t know yet, a big part of my job has to do with meeting people and conducting administrative hearings. I administer discipline so I constantly have to go on meetings to talk about whether a person should be fired from work or not.

Got Wood?

Very serious, nerdy and stressful stuff.

These meetings usually happen at the end of the employees’ shifts so this is around 6AM onwards my time. This is usually the time I’m most active. And by active I mean real attentive, quick-witted, etc. etc.

Early mornings cause my body to awaken, in a way. The sun, softly letting it’s rays into the office window. The air in the morning is a tolerable combination of dew and smog. And since it is the end of the shift, people are excited and generally in a good mood.

That’s all well and good except for one major problem…

My massive boner.

Before the Perv Alert starts wailing in your brain, let me explain.

If you’re a guy, you probably know what I’m talking about. There is a physiological phenomenon called spontaneous erections. It’s a natural process that occurs mostly during puberty (yes, apparently I’m still pubescent, there is hope) or on certain days, when environmental conditions are ideal (and by environment I really mean the weather and nature.)

Since I wear slacks to work, I tend to arrange my junk a certain way so that it does not disrupt the “line” of my silhouette. If you’re a gay guy, you would know what I’m talking about.

I have an obsession about being streamlined. I hate so much when there are things bulging on my pockets (and elsewhere). I make sure that my underwear has enough tucking power to manage certain “things”.

But on busy 6AMs, it’s like someone stuck a vise down there, and I would be at wits end trying to sit a certain way or walk a certain way in the hopes of creating room for my Junjun to breathe. These maneuvers very often do not work, and I’ve had to scoot my seat under the desk and “handle things manually” to keep certain veins from popping and to ensure that bruising does not occur and consequently cause the ultimate demise of my precious gift.

Even then, in addition to ruining my “line,” it ends up hitting my belt buckle, further aggravating the situation.

There have been a number of times when I was called out to do something and I literally would have to count backwards from 30 or think of exposed brains or washing machines or brick walls to get it to subside.

The tragedy is that I feel certain people are already getting wind of this problem. There’s a guy at work who always schedules meetings with me at 6AM or thereabouts and he’s commented on my pants once or twice. (Normally, this would disturb me, but I kind of have a little crush on him so I let it pass.)

One time I was in a 630AM hearing, and it was for performance, I think. So I was asking the employee why he thought his scores were subpar for that period. He was very inaccessible during the session. It was difficult to get a response from him, he just kept looking down. So I said, “please don’t give me a hard time.” Then he smiled real creepy so I looked at the coach right next to me, crossed my legs and wrapped up the session.

I had to pretend writing something down as they were leaving the room because I couldn’t get up off my seat.

I bet 40 years from now I wish I would have this problem. The thing is, it’s just real bad timing right now. Plus, it hurts!!!

I haven’t gone to the laundry yet so I used up all my support underwear. Today I’m wearing boxerbriefs.

Note to self: Clear schedule from 6AM-7AM.

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