Sunday, 8th December 2013

by Joshua Gaskell

There’s undoubtedly a pay-off to enduring blue balls. Once the pain has receded from the epididymal storehouse, it’s as though everything remains ever so slightly engorged, blood-vessel vassals vigilant; your packet illuminated, like an object in a cartoon that’s inevitably going to be picked up. This large, luxuriant, hair-trigger anticipation can last for days. It’s similar to that which you get awaiting a congratulatory reply to a really funny email, or looking forward to telling someone I told you so: ‘Ha ha! I told you I was going to come.’

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