He Touched What?!

Hello again, friends and neighbors!

Today's episode: on the road to vasectomy.

After many years (and just as many children), I finally decided to take the first steps towards neutering. Now, I know there are some of you who think this is a drastic step and somehow makes me less of a man...au contraire, mon frer! I'm done with populating the world. Kaput. Over. Finito.

I met my urologist today, the somewhat grandfatherly Dr. Daly. Waiting for his arrival, I spent the obligatory 1.5 hours in the patient area, thumbing through magazines. Once called back, I did my thing in a cup (no, not THAT thing you perverts) and waited some more in Exam Room 1. As I sat there, I pondered the deeper meanings of vasectomy. Is this really the way I wanted to go? Do I really think this is my only option? What in the world does Lindsey Lohan see in that shlub she's currently dating?

My thoughts were abruptly ended upon the entrance of "The Doc". Since I haven't really ever started a conversation about my reproductive system with another man before, I opened with a jovial, "How's it hangin'?" In hindsight, I can't help but chuckle at my cleverness.

We talked for the better part of 30 minutes about the procedure in general; what goes where, which utensil does what, paper or plastic. All in all a good talk. I thought everything was going smoothly until the doctor asked me to drop trou so he could make sure...and I quote..."all the parts are there."

I assured him that, while not necessarily impressive, everything was intact, but he wanted to check any way. Making some uneasy comment about not even buying me a drink first, I obliged.

...was it wrong of him to ask for my phone number afterwards?