A few weeks ago, Sexypants showed up at my place feeling a little (read: incredibly) whiny. If you have a vagina, or you like weenies, you will know that this is par for the course. There should be questions on the SAT regarding analogical representations of the sheer drama that is a man in mild pain.
Example:
Giving birth is to a woman, as a papercut is to a man.
Heart surgery is to a lady as the common cold is to a dude.
Men have the lowest pain tolerance of all time. They will take any mildly uncomfortable situation and turn it into the armageddon of health problems. My mom assures me that I do this as well, but I like to think that I'm handling pain better with time... or with wine.
Listen, we've all been like "my throat hurts" and WebMD'd the shit out of our symptoms; only to discover that we have HPV of the throat and have less than two months to live. I've started planning custody transfer of my cats after a "quick WebMD check" on a mole (which turns out is a freckle). It's a slippery slope; googling. Men in pain are like a walking WebMD site - all panic, all the time. Or, just walking pussies...
Anyway, SP walks in rubbing his eyeball. "I scratched my eyeball or something" while he rubs it back and forth like a big baby who's been refused naptime for three hours. I immediately look at it and say "No, you just have pinkeye."
His immediate reaction:
"WHAT? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? AM I GOING TO HAVE TO GET A SHOT?"
Good God. No. Did you get bit by a rabid attic bat? Have you stepped on a rusty, used, needle as of late? You don't have rabies or Tetanus. You're not getting a shot. Someone is going to shine their overpriced lightbulb into your eyeball, rob you of $150, and send you to get some eyedrops from the cranky old pharmacist at Walgreens.
Lucky for SP, I'm an incredibly responsible adult, and I hoard medicine like a zombie apocalypse is imminent. So I opened my medicine cabinets (plural) and started looking for eyedrops. Unfortch, there is a very sickly little kitty in my house, so sometimes I can't differentiate the cat medicine from the human (aka: manchild) medicine. Regardless, I found some eyedrops and gave them to SP.
"These may or may not be for cat eyeballs, but you can try them, if you're brave enough. You'll still need to go to the doctor tomorrow, though."
"WHAT? A DOCTOR? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? LIKE THE EMERGENCY ROOM?'
"No. Your eyeball is not dangling from its socket by a thread. Good God. Just go to Urgent Care."
"WHAT IS URGENT CARE? DO THEY GIVE SHOTS? WHO IS THERE?"
...Ryan Seacrest is there. Running American Idol auditions. The Oscar Meyer Weiner truck is there, giving away free weenies. THE F*CKING DOCTOR IS THERE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
I don't tell him that the doctors at urgent care are like the Van Wilders of med school and that one once asked me if I ever considered getting my tonsils out (they were removed in 1989)... but a damn monkey could diagnose pinkeye.
The only thing worse than a man panicking about needles? A man putting in eye drops. It was more dramatic than when Ed Cullen is about to step into the sunlight in the second Twilight movie... and he looked just as pale.
There was lamaze breathing, huffing, puffing, and so much dramatic complaining. "DON'T WATCH ME. I HATE TOUCHING MY EYEBALLS"... while he is spread eagle on his back on the bed huffing and puffing louder than someone wearing a sleep apnea mask. This is why God didn't give men a period... there is no way they could handle cramps or the sight/idea of a tampon.
I'm a terrible human and told him to ask for some muscle relaxers, for his sciatica, while he was there (we're old). They ended up giving him a cortisone shot in his hip.... my bad, babe, I did not expect that it was ACTUAL sciatica, due to the level of drama surrounding the painless eye drops. The boy who cried wolf and all... He's never going to let me forget that cortisone shot. Personally, I enjoy a good injection, as long as that syringe is filled with some potent botulinum toxin. Also, I'm not needle-phobic, but if I was, the Botox would hide my ability to show fear. #twobirdsonestone
Godspeed to all the ladies out there dealing with their big, fat, adult babies.
XOXO,
K
