My Honeymoon – A Sad But True Story

Sometimes, I think my life is a sitcom. To reconfirm that fact, here’s a sad but true story about the day I got married. See if you agree.

It was the morning of September 30th, 2000. My wedding day. My best man and I had just gotten through playing a few games of basketball, talking shit about how we wear the damn pants in our relationship. We check the time and realize we have to hurry and get ready or our wives will kill us. 

I get home and I take a shower. As I am drying off, I notice I have a slight pimple on my inner thigh. I don’t really give it much thought. I throw on my cheap, rented tux, and head on over to the church to get hitched. 

To cut to the chase, the ceremony is great and the reception is even better. We had about 250 guests and the place was packed. After about 4 hours of me doing my best Deney Terrio impression on the dance floor, my wool tuxedo had “the boys” more than a little sweaty. The night flew by and before you know it, my wife and I found ourselves up in our hotel room.

Now, you probably think you know where this is going, but let me assure you….you don’t. 

Our hotel room was filled with gifts from our guests. Our friends were so generous, they sent us all sorts of candies, cookies, champagne and gift baskets. One gift in particular, caught my wifes attention. 

It was a little set of tuxedo underwear and lace panties. The underwear were black and white, and had a little bow tie with three little buttons underneath it. It looked about two sizes too small for me, and was the most elegant looking banana hammock I had ever seen. “Oh put it on!”, my wife exclaimed. “It’ll be fun!”, she said. I was sure it wold be a lot of things….humiliating, Yes. Embarrassing, Yes. Gay? most definitely Yes. Fun? No. But hell, it was my honeymoon and this is my new bride. I was game for anything as long as it didn’t include a paper towel roll and a hamster.

I popped into the bathroom and started to take off my sweat soaked tuxedo pants. As I slide my pants off, I noticed something very disturbing. What was a slight pimple on my thigh earlier in the day, now looked like Mt. St. Helens. The pimple was huge! It was then I realized, if you take a pimple, add a cheap wool tux rubbing up against it all night, add a generous amount of sweat, what you end up with is a massive, red boil. As gross as you imagine it is, it was actually worse. It had a large, red circle, and then a smaller raised pimple in the middle. The thing looked like a nipple on my inner thigh.

“What’s taking so long?” my wife shouted from the bed. I reluctantly slide on the tuxedo underwear and took a look in the mirror. Spiffy! My penis looks like Jeeves the butler.  Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe she won’t notice. Maybe all of the other guys she dated had nipples on their thighs, and she will think it’s normal. 

To make matters worse, I was not in the greatest shape when I got married. I wasn’t the house that I am now, but I was well on my way. I couldn’t imagine what would happen when I came out of that bathroom, belly, love handles, tuxedo grape smuggler, and now…thigh nipple. Damn, and all that money I spent on the ring and the wedding. “Oh well”, I thought, and I emerged in my full regalia.

To better encapsulate the moment, I thought I would upload a visual representation as to what my wife saw that night. Scroll down to see my drawing.

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Sorry, I'm taken ladies.

 

 

Turns out, the nipple was a good thing. We still had our honeymoon sex and my wife didn’t vomit once. (We did keep a garbage pail by the bed, just in case) In reflection, my thinking is that if she could love me through that, she would love me through anything. What happened to the nipple you asked? After a good month, it was completely gone, areola and all. My wife and I are still happily married 8 years later, although for some strange reason, she still keeps a garbage pail by the bed……What’s that all about?