6 - I LITERALLY PISSED MYSELF ... THE FIRST TIME

It started long before this - the discomfort, the increased need to go, the inability to go. That got worse and worse over the succeeding years, but the first 'headline' event was in the summer of 2013. That's when it all came out in the open. Before then I'd had to pee far too regularly and more urgently than others - friends and family. This time however it was on a new level and I really should have taken heed and taken stock. Instead I let it go on for six more years - typical bloody man.

The wedding of a wealthy friend. A country house in Wiltshire. The theme of gangsters & molls (ffs!). 

No expense spared - seemingly. I was collected from Bristol airport by one of numerous chauffeurs hired for the day. Sun splitting the sky. Champagne on the lawn on arrival. Hard to take it all in. Just beautiful. Idyllic.

A huge white marquee erected in the picture postcard oak tree-dotted-field beyond the rose beds and manicured borders.  Quintessentially English rolling countryside. A privilege to have been invited. Wouldn't be anywhere else.

Drinks and introductions over a few jovial games of croquet on a real croquet lawn. Then a call to assemble.  

It was a long walk to the marquee, perhaps 3 minutes. I made my way past the glamping tent area, hay bales and fire pits, outdoor games areas buzzing with frolicking kids in colourful summer oufits. It was going to be a very good day - a day to remember.

In the marquee that's filling up with guests I find my table. As I do so I'm talking to some bright-young-thing London artist type who thinks the future of art is going to be computer generated blah blah blah. 

Just as I sit down I need a pee. I've drunk 2 or 3 or 4 glasses of champagne in the past hour so nothing unusual about that, but the suddeness is. No warning, no discomfort or dull pain - I just HAVE TO PEE RIGHT NOW - NOW - NOOOW! But the bright young artist thing won't give me the damned pause in conversation I need to excuse myself politely. He just goes on and on talking until I just can't go on listening. I'm going to piss myself. I turn and run out of the tent leaving him in mid sentence - like a scene in a trashy movie. I've never done that to anyone before and now I'm going to have to come back and sit with him for the length of the dinner. This isn't of any concern at all to me right now though.

My only concern is - WHERE THE FECK ARE THE DAMN PORTALOOS!? I hadn't seen any on my way to the marquee so now I have to locate them VERY PISSING FAST!

None in sight though. I've already pissed a little bit in my pants. The rest isn't going to wait much longer. As I look around for a simple fucking chemical loo the searing pain is already bending every muscle in my body downwards and inwards towards that peppercorn size bladder exit and the detrusor muscles that hold it shut. It is all I can do not to fold up on the ground and scream in agony at passing feet. A minute ago I'd been at a wedding. Now I'm in a world of uncontrollable excruciating pain and internal primal screaming. In the world I've just left people still pass by on their jolly way in and out of the marquee. Serving staff carry trays of drinks from the bar as I stand there consumed in agony by a white hot bladder from hell.

I run around the back of the marquee to where the catering trucks are. Lots of people busily at work but no loos and nowhere to go without being seen - that consideration has never left me. 

A hundred and fifty guests in a tent in the middle of a field drinking like fish and not a single pissoir to be had! How could my friend have come up short in this way? Christ's sake people are you all bladderless!? is it just me that needs to pee here!? Turns out the groom had forgotten about loos. He'd ticked off on fire pits and hay bales, bunting and festoon lights but not anywhere to piss out the booze we're going to be guzzling like there's no tomorrow!

I turn and head for the main house several minutes walk away but I am never going to make it. I can hardly put one leg in front of the other with the cramping pain. I'm pissing cold sweat out of my pores. It's very hot so how that's even possible I don't know. A couple of far too exhuberant kids ask me to play hide and seek with them. I don't even answer. I can't. I am in a delirium. Perhaps the effect of ignoring them will change the course of their lives in some small way - their faith in humanity or something. I couldn't care less. Nature is calling me and it's calling like a cat on a hot tin roof.

© copyright JW 2023

Then in mid stride my bladder does what bladders and dams do under pressure. It opens the floodgates and rapidly empties itself. The pressurised flow of body temperature urine pulses in to my nether regions, fills my boxer shorts, streams down my legs soaking through my cheap white polyester 'gangster' trousers on the way before collecting copiously in my shoes. I'm still walking as I feel the trouser fabric stick to my skin like clingfilm. Then in a final act of humiliation the pee suddenly turns from hot to cold. My transition from wedding guest to urine drenched basket case is complete.

I'm twisted in pain but somehow still on the move, passing guests and smiling warmly, hoping my condition isn't that noticeable, hoping they don't see what's happening down below. It is noticeable though and of course they see. 

Before I think to take my jacket off to cover my pissy pants Elizabeth passes me by. I know by her double take downward glances to my groin area that she's seen the state I'm in but she valiantly pretends not to have. To this day nothing has been said but I have no doubt she has dined out well once or twice on the story and if so I forgive her that. Who the hell wouldn't tell the story of someone pissing themself in front of you at an otherwise humdrum upper crust wedding?

After changing my trousers and drying out my only pair of shoes as best I can I rejoin the wedding party, but my mood has changed and full engagement no longer possible. I can't throw myself back in to the carefree gaiety. I'm now an outsider - an oddball - a piss artist in genteel company - mister pissy pants. I can't wait to get away, but there's still a whole day and night to get through. Nightmare.

You don't forget the first time you piss yourself. It's a very unfamiliar and troubling experience. Apart from the embarrassment there's the feeling of inadequacy, of immaturity and even helplessness. Little kids wet the bed. Then they grow up and stop. Pissing myself that day really rattled me - being so out of control of my body and experiencing so much sudden pain. 

In the succeeding years I've pissed myself on other occasions. It has been an inevitable result of my untreated condition. Of course I've desperately tried not to, the physical strain of which has caused literally unbearable pain - a deterioration in my condition to the point where pissing myself would have been a desirable and healthier alternative. More about that in an upcoming post.

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5 - MINE'S BIGGER THAN YOURS!

© copyright JW 2023

A healthy prostate in boys and younger men is about the size of a walnut though it grows bigger as you get older. The smaller your prostate the better. Unlike the penis you do not want to have a big one! It's nothing to be boasting about if you do ... but if you really feel the need you can still compare it with all your mates' behind the bike shed! The only way to check its size though is by sticking your finger up your bum - and then up all your mates' bums and having a good feel around. Good luck with that!

The prostate's function is to create and secrete prostate fluid, an important component of semen - the stuff we men contribute to the human reproductive process. Only males have a prostate. Females don't need one, but who knows how long that will last!?

© copyright JW 2023

A male's prostate can be fully removed if it's damaged or diseased. However it isn't like the seemingly useless appendix or tonsils. It has a specific and important function in the production of semen and without it you can become infertile and erections and ejaculations can stop. So no prostate = no more how's your father!?

The prostate contributes up to 30 pecent of the total semen volume. The remainder comes from the seminal vesicles and the testicles. 

Prostate fluid is a potent thick white mix of enzymes, citric acid and zinc, tasty components that make it ideal for carrying semen out of the body in to its intended target - or a handy tissue!

It's a compact little gland but far from perfect. It doesn't age well and stops functioning properly in around 50% of males over the age of fifty and 90％ of over eighties. That isn't the sort of reliability you'd want under the bonnet of your car!

© copyright JW 2023

If you were ever inclined to start taking intelligent design seriously as an alternative to evolution look no further than the prostate for the ludicrousness of the idea. Intelligent designers argue that planet earth and everything on it is so perfectly 'created', so intricate in its 'design' that it couldn't have come about without the help of the beardy man in the sky. For them evolution didn't happen .... oh and of course fossils aren't old either!

Perhaps however I'm wrong and God just designed and installed the prostate on a Friday when he was in a hurry to get Adam done and dusted down on planet earth so he could skip rush hour and get back to his forever home in the universe - a long commute. That would go some way to explaining the very poor plumbing job he did.

It's a plumbing disaster waiting to happen. Your prostate is positioned between your bladder and your penis. It wraps around the urethra - the tube that feeds urine to the end of your knob. You just couldn't pick a worse place to put it. 

When you're young and it's small and healthy everything's tickety-boo. You can pee for Ireland!

However as you get older and your prostate starts to enlarge it puts pressure on the delicate pee-carrying tube (the urethra) running through its core. The flow through the urethra is then restricted and so too is your ability to pee. Less pee flow with more effort to pee starts to make your peeing life notably uncomfortable and there begins the downward descent towards pee-less-ness. Where once it was just a matter of a quick trip to the loo a few times a day peeing becomes a more regular, more painful and less successful affair.

4 - DYING FOR A PEE

Besides sex and masturbation is there anything more quietly but deeply satisfying and stress relieving than having a quick pee?  

With a normal bladder the early stages of needing to pee aren't painful. Your bladder muscles give you just a little poke to let you know it'll be on its way soon. You have time to get ready - find a 'restroom' or a secluded spot where you can see to your bladder's upcoming need. If you're in company you make your excuses - "I just need to take a leak! Back in a wee minute!" and off you go. Once in position you relax your bladder's muscles and out it flows ..... ahhhhhhhhh yessssss indeeedy-needy -peedy! ...... giving you a very pleasing feeling of relief and even a gratifying sense of achievement.

What though if you are prevented from meeting your body's need to pee? You're in a meeting or on a bus or at the park and there's no toilet to go to. A 'comfort break' just isn't possible. How easily that little poke can turn in to great discomfort and then outright agonising pain. 

Everyone young and old knows what it's like to need to pee so much it hurts. The pain is so all consuming that in the end you can hardly think about anything else. You are DYING TO PEE! Your body's physical reaction blurs your mind. As you tighten your bladder muscles and then start to spasm you begin to sweat and cramp up from the effort. You enter a sort of dazed, fearful, desparate, intense internal fury. It's an emergency. The goddam pain! It's too much for you to take. You can't hold it in anymore - you just can't .... but you must.

When you finally do get to the toilet the relief is astonishing and once the flow is established your muscles quickly relax and your discomfort disappears as though your body hadn't just been killing you with pain! 

"Never again!" you promise yourself as you zip up and go to wash your hands. "That was too much to take - really too mucking futch!". There's no way you can go through that torture again - no bloody way. You soon calm down however and gather yourself. The sadistic pee monkey is off your back now and life is sweet again. 

Imagine having that feeling almost all of the time night and day even straight after you've had a pee - an acute burning pain in your penis; a feeling like you're about to burst and there's nothing you can do to stop it.  It's almost unbearable .... no no .... it's LITERALLY un-fucking-bearable! ....

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