And then you figure it out: his dad must own a dealership.

At least you can feel better knowing that you’re not going crazy, and that, yes, this does happen all the time. And just remember: any girl who dates such a guy is probably not your type.

Catch up with the new generation of sex educators over at AVN, where Jamye Waxman profiles the ladies and men who are reinventing sex ed. Good bye, gym teachers — hello, educational porn!

[Via Babeland, photo by asiaticleague]

We’ve all seen those cheesy late night commercials featuring the hicks and seniors who claim that Gold Bond does wonders for whatever it is that ails them. Gold Bond has the look and feel of a throwback to the days of snake oil cure-all’s and Grandpa’s medicine cabinet. But I’m attracted still to it’s manly aura, and since it’s been around forever, I figured it must work.

I was alone in my bathroom. After taking care of my itchy foot, I looked down and noticed I had a lot of Gold Bond left over. I slowly looked down at my lotion filled hand… and then I looked down at my balls… I even did a quick double take to make sure no one was in my bathroom watching me. Then I did it: I slowly rubbed the excess lotion in between my legs and my balls.

At first, nothing happened — just the feeling of lotion. But then, without warning the lotion on my balls began to feel warm, and started to tingle; then it became so warm that it actually felt cold, but it continued to tingle in various places intermittently. It was just like that gum with the flavor crystals: a tingle here, a pop there, an overall overwhelming warm cooling sensation everywhere.

I felt like my balls were the stars of their very own super sweet sixteen party. The rest of me had never felt so much alive and confident.

But it quickly occured to me that I might have been seriously messing around with the overall health of my balls. Naturally, I hadn’t read the box, so I had no idea what that wonderful sensation was. For all I knew the box could have read: WHATEVER YOU DO KEEP THIS GOLD BOND CREME AWAY FROM YOUR BALLS NO MATTER HOW GOOD IT MIGHT FEEL!!!

I did what anyone would do. I ran to go grab the box (though since I’d already thrown it out, I had to do a little bit digging). I found it and read it as quickly as possible. No warnings or mention of balls or the medical term “testicles” anywhere.

But wait: would they really put the word “balls” on a box? What kind of moron would even think of rubbing this on their balls anyway?

Off to the internet I went. I typed Gold Bond and balls into Google. The first thing that came up was this internet thread titled “Gold Bond On Your Balls Feels Good.”

“Thankfully I’m not the only idiot who’s done this,” I thought. But for all I knew, this guy who had written this could be sterile already. Hell, his balls could have already fallen off.

I needed more information, and quickly! The next thing I found was this Onion article with the headline “Gold Bond Spokesman Grudgingly Admits It Makes Your Balls Tingle.” My blood pressure immediately began to drop and I became way more relaxed about this whole balls falling off thing. Surely, The Onion wouldn’t joke about something you shouldn’t put on your balls, would they?

But what about the official Gold Bond website? Maybe they weren’t ballsy enough to type anything on their box about rubbing this all over your balls for the greatest sensation ever… but on the internet, they just might! I easily found the frequently asked questions page, but sadly saw no mention of balls anywhere.

Just when I was about to give up I saw an ad at the bottom of the page that read: Powder Your Equipment. Could they cleverly be using the word “equipment” as a substitute for balls? No way… I clicked and this ad popped up:

There are many more just like it at Gold Bond’s “Powder My Equipment” website, but I thought the foreign soccer player was the best.

So everything is going to be all right after all. Since then, I haven’t been using Gold Bond everyday but I do whenever I’m about to go out for a night on a town and need a little pick me up before I head out the door. I have yet to try the traditional powdered version, but it looks too messy to be throwing down my pants.

I just wish that someone had told me about this sooner. Thanks for nothing, Grandpa!

[Disclaimer: Though Richard Blakeley turned out okay, we strongly discourage rubbing foreign lotions and creams on your testicles without expressly checking to make sure it's okay first. Due to the high number of blood vessels in the skin of the scrotum, it's actually some of the most absorbent skin on the body, which can make it very dangerous to, well, experiment with.]

Jason and I have established that we like each other. A lot. So I really can’t explain why I need to overanalyze every frigging detail of our conversations to a point where I convince myself that Jason has lost all interest in me. But, I still feel like things are new, and we could go either way.

Just to give you an idea of how bipolar I’ve become, here’s a quick rundown of my day:

8:03 a.m.: Wake up with adorable, scruffy man in my bed. Morning makeout session. Mouthfuls of puppies and rainbows.

10:15 a.m.: He signs on to IM. Joyous day!

10:16 a.m.: Why has he not messaged me? And – what? – he just put up an “Away” message. Oh no, he didn’t.

11:23 a.m.: Still no contact. I am Queen of Darkness.

12:15 p.m.: IM: “Hey Kiddo!” and continued exchange of banter. All is right in the world again.

3:22 p.m.: Response when I ask him, “Can I take you out for dinner tonight” is “Perhaps.” No further discussion. I am imprisoned in a hell of my own making.

5:11 p.m.: “Oh sorry,” he writes, “got distracted. Where do you want to go for dinner, kiddo?” Lemon drops and unicorns.

You get the point. Basically, my life has turned into a constant flux between heaven and hell. In a good way, though…if I am making any sense at all…

[Photo by mslivenletlive]