Good morning, forgive me if I'm a bit groggy, the procedure yesterday took a lot out of me, more so emotionally and psychologically than physically. A quick recap for those who didn't see my post yesterday- I wrote about how much fun it is to reply to my own posts but I'd be unable to do so for a few days cuz I'd be in the hospital- as a registered pubic hair donor I finally got the call to donate my pubes to a man who lost his in a horrific industrial accident. Thousands of you sent heartwarming messages and made me promise to provide an update, so here it is. Trigger warning for anyone who might one day have to donate pubes.

First, the good news- the operation appears to have been a success!! My pubes are taking root in their new home and there are no signs of rejection. The young man is apparently awake and talking. A family member approached me to express his, and the family's, immense gratitude. He made it clear that I am most welcome to visit my pubes in the future, a wonderful gesture on his part.

However, the whole event was not without some emotional trauma suffered by me, the donor. You see, I'd assumed I'd be out cold for the whole procedure, but such was not the case. I was put on a stretcher, naked from the waste down, and wheeled into an operating theater next to the recipient, who WAS out cold. I assumed they'd knock me out now, and asked about it but the doctor said no, you'll be given something to help you relax, and a topical solution will be massaged into your groin so you won't feel the pubes being extracted. At this, they had me inhale some gas, and then two nurses approached the gurney, one on either side. As they did, I looked up and realized this truly was a theater- I could see a few dozen medical students and even other doctors gathered above to watch what is apparently a very rare procedure, a full frontal pubectomy.

The two nurses looked at me and smiled, and I couldn't decide if it was a good thing or not that they were both female. One of them explained that it would be her job to massage in the numbing cream, while the other would hold my pecker (she didn't say pecker) out of the way. I started freaking mentally, o god what if i get a boner, please god don't let me get a boner, please i'll go to church every week til i die, please god, please....think of something to kill the boner, fast.... think of donald trump junior.... think of his wife, Kimberly G....but not her boobs, cuz they're quite something.....think of that woman who ghosted you the other day, not the nice one who wrote last night after a few days of silence to very kindly say she didn't think we were a match....the one nurse then gently took hold of my pecker and the other proceeded to apply the cream and massage it in, and boy did it feel good.... i think the gas had removed my concerns, so i just said fuck it, whatever happens happens, the important thing is that the young man next to me gets these pubes! I continued to look up at the gallery, and I swear I could see money changing hands and lots of chatter, and then it dawned on me- they were betting on whether or not I'd get a boner!! Talk about unethical!!

This is when things got kinda....interesting. You see, I've always been self conscious of my little pecker. It's respectable in boner mode, but a meek little mouse when not. And now all these people were staring at it, the gamblers willing it to either stay soft or get hard, the nurses....well, I'm not sure what the nurses wanted to happen, but I could sense that both were smiling under their masks. Then it occurred to me- they too were wondering which way things would go!! And maybe betting on it too!! Maybe the fix was in!! The nurses had been bribed to make it go one way or the other!!!

O lord, why me.... why was i born with a little pecker? Why do I find myself in these situations?? And that's when i had a vision. My dear old mother appeared above me and said "son, there's a very good and wonderful reason you have a tiny pecker, and it explains why you're here donating your pubes to that poor man. When you were a little boy in heaven, waiting to be born, God took you and the other little boys being born that month to a special room, a room full of peckers of all shapes and sizes, and told you 'boys, you will have but one pecker in life.... today you must choose that pecker. Choose wisely, choose well.' The other boys greedily chose the biggest ones, not even giving you a chance to choose. When you were finally able to choose there were a few big ones left, but you spotted a little, sad pecker, sitting alone in a corner, a little tear drop forming on his little head... and you said 'that one, that's my pecker!' The little pecker couldn't believe that he'd been chosen, and wept with joy. And God bellowed 'Lo, blessed is he who chooseth the little pecker, for he shall be big hearted instead, and his good deeds and mercy shall be known across the world'. And that's why you have gone hand in hand with that cute little pecker of yours all these years, and why you alone are here giving your pubes to that young man. Yours is a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree pecker, a Little Engine That Could pecker, and today the world is a better place for it'.

Well..... that DOES explain it I guess.... thank you mom! I shouted out loud as she smiled and faded away.....everyone in the theater stopped to stare and wonder what the hell I was talking about.... and then I realized which side the nurses were on, cuz what they were doing was WAY more sensual than necessary.... and sure enough..... my little pecker began to stir...fine, I thought, let 'er rip! But then I panicked again- what if it only went to half mast, maybe the gas and cream would impact it???? The gamblers would be upset, they'd need a ruling....is it a boner or not?? But it kept growing, and as it grew I could hear it say..... "I think I can, I think I can...." and lo, the whole theater did behold a fine five inches of Canadian granite, looking majestic, proud, and regal..... The entire theater erupted in applause, even those who had lost money on me.

Everything after that was a blur, but I guess all well that ends well. There might even be a moral to the story..... like 'never bet against a little pecker under pressure' or something like that. Anyhoo, I'm still not feeling up to replying to myself today, so I'd really appreciate it if one of you could step up for me. Thanks, as always.

Long story short- lonely man, 56, big hearted, little peckered, seeks woman for love, romance, affection, etc.