About a week ago I decided it was time to do "it." I've been thinking about getting the little brother pierced for awhile now, but have never got past the "that'd be so rad" phase. Why was last week so different from any other time I'd thought about getting pierced? I think it has something to do with this quote I keep on my desk – "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream," by Mark Twain. Being a sailor, casting off the bowlines and catching the trade winds gnaws at my sense of self and freedom.
At A Glance Author LogansRun Contact LogansRun@bme.anon When It just happened Artist Sterling Studio Southern Thunder Tattoo Location Salt Lake City, UT When I got my tattoo I told myself that I'd rather get it and regret it, than not get it and curse myself later. My only regret about the tattoo is that it's on my ankle and the only good look at it I can get is in a mirror.
After having the tattoo for a few years I decided that maybe, one day, I just might get my dick pierced. I don't know why I wanted it pierced, other than it was something I needed to do to be me. Every decision is just a wish until you take action, so I ended up wishing for a long time. I slowly developed the same attitude about getting pierced as I had about the tattoo – I would rather regret getting it than regret hiding in the safe harbor. This time, though, I would get something that didn't need a mirror. I settled on a frenum piercing. I figured it was something I could look at when I wanted to (it's always just a bathroom stall away), and it was in keeping with my conservative bent. I'd looked at the PAs and decided that they were too extreme for me. Something about a big hole "down there" and a ring coming out the head of the little brother. Of course, there's also the thing about a big needle going through the part of your dick that makes having a functional dick so pleasurable. In comparison the frenum looked harmless. But, that was then.
Last Friday I decided "This is it. I'm doing it." I was so excited I thought about piercing my frenum myself that weekend. I went to BME to check out what they had to say about do-it-yourself. I was quickly convinced to have it done by professionals. I checked out local piercing studios on the Internet and settled on Southern Thunder. Southern Thunder is closed on Sundays and I knew I'd never make it on Saturday. I figured the next Friday would be the best time. I'd take off work early, go get it done and have the weekend to bleed and get used to it. Before quitting out of the browser I checked out BME one more time. I couldn't take my eyes off the PAs. Something about them made the frenum seem so weak. It took me about 5 minutes to go from "Man those things are intense," to "Maybe if the frenum works out I'll get a PA later," to "Screw the frenum, I'm getting me a Prince Albert."
I do database programming and product development. I like the work but don't like the bullshit stuff I have to put up with every week. Stuff like "I know what you're working on right now is really important but I need for you to work on this really, really important project right now." (Of course I get in trouble 2 days later when the stuff that is only really important isn't finished on time.) Then there's the office politics and being over-worked and underpaid stuff. Worst is the "you're 15 minutes late" routine. Let's see -- I'm not on the clock, I work through lunch and stay late anyway, I work alone and nobody needs to see me 15 minutes earlier, and the only reason I don't quit is because I love what I'm doing. What's your problem? Other than the one time I threatened to quit I bite my tongue. None of that mattered this week though – "I'm getting my dick pierced on Friday" was the magic phrase that put the world into a whole new perspective. Knowing that you're getting a hole poked through "there" and a ring put in makes a lot of other things seem inconsequential.
Monday and Tuesday went by pretty slow and then all of a sudden it was Friday. Unfortunately, when quitting early time came around I was stuck in rush hour traffic doing a delivery that was 60 miles away. I resigned myself to getting pierced next week. I felt like I'd let myself down, even though having to do a delivery in another county wasn't something I could control. When I decide to do something I like to get it done, now. Waiting a week means failing. When I finally got home Friday night I made a todo list for Saturday: Feed the neighbor's cat (they're on vacation); Eat lunch; Get a haircut; Get my dick pierced. Making a list took the sting away from missing my first commitment and got me thinking that just maybe I'll do it Saturday and deal with the possible problems if and when they occur. I figured that if I was still a bloody mess come Monday I'd take a sick day (of course I'd need something better than saying "I can't come in, my dick hurts").
I forced myself to sleep and on Saturday morning (just 14 hours ago) I started working my way down the list. The list helped me get over the "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm actually doing this" stuff that was running through my head. At 1:30 I walked into Southern Thunder. It took me three times driving up and down the block before I found the place. That was three times I ignored the "screw it, I'll come back next week" thoughts. I knew I'd regret slinking back home more than anything else.
The guy at the counter called for the guy who did piercings to come upstairs. I sat down and worried about getting a hard on while he was doing it. I worried about going full turtle before he even got to put in the receiving tube. I worried about not being able to take the pain. I worried about being a bloody mess for two weeks. I worried about having to sit down to pee for the rest of my life. I worried about being too nervous to even say why I was there. I worried about all that in the time it took Sterling, the piercing guy, to walk upstairs.
I tried to act calm, cool, and collected. I did all right until he asked me what kind of piercing I wanted. I quickly tossed out the idea of pointing at my crotch and smiling. Instead, I stumbled over the words Prince Albert and hoped he understood. I didn't have it in me to repeat myself. He told me the price and that it would take a half-hour to set up. I asked if it would be better if I set up an appointment. He said it was my choice.
It was one of those put up or shut up moments that we spend most of our lives avoiding. I get really annoyed with people who weasel their way around these moments. With an attitude like this you can see that getting an appointment wasn't an option, do it now or do it never were my only real choices. "I'm here now so I'll do it now." Sitting and waiting for the event to start wasn't appealing so I told him I'd be back in a half hour. I found the local overpriced fancy coffee place. I don't drink coffee so I got a mocha. Before heading back I went to the bathroom. As I was pissing I thought "Well this is it. This is the last time I take a piss with my equipment the way God arranged it."
Sterling was waiting for me. The next half hour went just the way everybody else has described it. The stupid jokes, the self conscious small talk, dropping my drawers and laying back. More small talk, more jokes as he cleaned and measured and marked. We settled on a 5/8ths inch 10 gauge ring. Putting the receiving tube down my slit was the worst part. I took a deep breath when he said to. I let it out and he started with the needle. It was like a sharp pinch and the pain only lasted the second-and-a-half it took to get the needle through. I didn't feel the jewelry go through. I was thrilled when he said it was done and I could take a look. There was blood but no pain. Even with the blood it was beautiful. I'd done it and I felt good. I still can't get over the ring that runs through the middle of little brother down there. I'm glad I went with the Prince Albert now instead of getting the frenum done way back when I first thought about it. Doing the big leap instead of worki ng my way up (by the way, I've got nothing against frenums, it's just that I was going to settle for a frenum because it seemed easier) feels a lot better.
Getting my tattoo was about three hours and a million needle pricks worth of pain. It didn't bother me though because from the very first second the tat gun pricked my skin until it was over I could feel years of teenage angst, doubt about who I am, and the fear of the world I had melt away. The tattoo was a closing chapter on a part of my life.
The piercing is different. Last week, walking around thinking to myself "Yeah, but I'm getting my dick pierced," and knowing that I'll be going around all next week with that special swagger and feeling of bragging rights that a PA gives you and thinking "Yeah, but I got myself a PA this weekend. What'd you do?" will probably turn me into an insufferable jerk. But, I'll get over it. My superficial bragging rights will become an attitude of grab life by the horns and just go for it. This is a new chapter. Now when I look at challenges I'll be thinking "Dude, you got a PA. What's holding you back now?"