Don't be a Dick

We just got back home from a week spent at Myrtle Beach, SC. One morning we even went to the beach. I ventured out to my ankles - squealed - and then ran back to the safety of my thirty dollar rented blue lounge chairs and umbrella. Harry was braver. He stayed in and jumped into the high, hurricane-like waves and even body surfed a few into the seashell-strewn shore. Unfortunately, while in the water - he got attacked by a sea creature.

No, not a jellyfish.

Or a shark.

Or even a curious fish--with teeth.

Later, when in the shower, it turned out that quite a few of the tiny sharp shells from the shore made it into the "safety net" of his swimtrunks. Once there, they decided to attack whatever tender flesh they came in contact with. I stared in horror as he got in the glass-walled shower, removed his trunks - and half a pound of shells fell out.

I went to lay on the bed while he worked at getting all the misplaced sea bits into one corner.

"I think I'm injured," he said a few minutes later when he emerged, wrinkly and red from the steam.

"What? Oh no - where?" I was concerned - we still had two days of hardcore shopping to do at the surrounding Tanger Outlets.

"On my penis."

"Oh no - lemmie look." Now, when one is married, or even just in a committed relationship - these requests seem less odd. I do not recommend trying this on a first through fifth date.

But he obliged and laid down on the bed. I carefully examined the specimen to look for anything unusual and, sure enough, a small scratch was at the very top.

"Okay," I said, getting a good look at the cut to make sure no shell remained. "I think it's fine it's just a little pri-" I stopped as I realized what I was going to say was not what I meant to say nor should any woman say while holding a man's pride in her hand.

"It's fine," I tried to cover.

"No, what were you going to say?" Concern filled his voice and I got the giggles. Again, not something one should do when looking at their mate's manparts.

"Holly!"

"Fine," I said carefully covering him with the white towel. "I was going to say that it just looks like a little prick - and that's all. But I knew you'd take it wrong."

He stared at me, face turning red, trying not to laugh.

"A little prick, huh?" he said. "THAT'S what you're going to say to me?" He was pretending to be affronted so I sat back on the bed, crossed my arms and huffed.

"Yes. And don't take that the wrong way," I said.

"Noooooooo," he said sarcastically. "I would NEVER take that the wrong way."

And he hasn't. Not even when he repeats it - all the time - at random times - especially on the way home.

"Should we turn here?" he'd ask.

"Sure - I trust you," I'd say, not looking up from my magazine.

"Are you sure - cuz apparently I have a little prick..."

Luckily his cut has healed nicely on his member. Though if he doesn't quit reminding me of my misspoken concern - he may have far worse injuries to be concerned about...