You Know You’re Getting Old When….

If my first ‘You Know You’re Getting Old When‘ isn’t published before this one then the header may cause confusion but, as I’ve spent most of my life confused and causing confusion then, frankly, no change there then eh?

As a man, if there’s one thing I’ve noticed as I fight, kick and scream in my battle to not get old it is this:

I occasionally piss down my legs.

I have sought advice about this from my friends of similar age and my doctor. Without exception I am told ‘It’s natural’. Seriously. It is, apparently, natural to piss down your legs.

Is this what old age holds for me? Pissing down my legs???

It appears that, as a man anyway, there comes a point in time – or, more specifically – an age when your bladder and the bits and pieces associated there begin to work in a different way to the way they worked before you suddenly and inexplicably woke up old.

Now. When life was simple and I wasn’t ‘old’ I could go out to a pub or a restaurant and, along with eating stuff I could drink copious amounts of beer. I never fell over – well, not since I was about 17 anyway. I seemed to have this strange capacity to drink beer without ever getting ‘drunk’ – or at least not the ‘drunk’ that includes falling over or punching a complete stranger or what ever.

I only ever got, from approximately 17 years of age, pleasantly drunk. I once said to the wifey as I quaffed my 9th or 10th Bud “Don’t worry dear, I’m just getting pleasantly drunk”. She did not distinguish herself with the response “Is that perpendicular or horizontal?”.

I freely admit I have always enjoyed beer. There has never been a problem with this. More recently, I admit, my belly seems to be taking on the appearance of pregnancy but, as I am getting older (mutter, mumble, grumble) I have to accept that the human body tends to change as it ages and I can accept that if only because nothing seems inclined to drop off at the moment.

However, this pissing down the legs thing is, well, embarrassing really.

I am led to believe by my contemporaries and my doctor that it is a natural occurrence. Really? Pissing down your legs is a natural occurrence of getting old??? Jesus H Christ! I AM NOT GETTING OLD!!!!

According to the Doc (who, as always, expressed his delight and surprise that I was still alive when I went to see him) it’s all to do with what happens with age to your bladder, the sort of tube thing in your – well, your – you know – oh bugger it – your thingy. Your one eyed trouser snake. Your willy. Your whatsit.

Why am I getting embarrassed about saying penis when I’ve just admitted to pissing down my legs? Aren’t we an odd lot? Well, possibly it’s just me then.

According to my Doc I must now rechristen my penis. For many years – from about 14 or so actually – he’s been called ‘Bob’. I have no idea why but when I fell in love with him – or, more accurately, when my right hand fell in love with him around the age of 14 I decided I would call him ‘Bob’. Several girlfriends of the past found this amusing and happily called him ‘Bob’ which gave ‘Bob’ an almost independent existence in a way – actually up until my mid-twenties he probably did have a sort of independent existence I suppose.

“Not now Bob! We’re in the middle of a bloody disco!” and that sort of thing.

Anyway, where was I? oh yes. Pissing down my legs.

It appears that ‘Bob’ should now be rechristened ‘Columbo’. You remember ‘Columbo’? That marvellous TV detective created by Peter Falk? Well, Columbo may have been created by the writers but Peter Falk was bloody awesome wasn’t he?

So. My penis is no longer ‘Bob’ but ‘Columbo’ and, I’m sure, assuming you’ve actually survived to this point, you may be asking ‘why?’ I will tell you.

Before this ‘age’ thing kicked in and before I found myself pissing down my legs I would, as all us chaps do, use the urinal, give a good shake and whip it back in making sure the zip didn’t do anything nasty – have you ever trapped it in the zip? Oh my God!!! – anyway, that, fortunately perhaps, is another story possibly and preferably left untold – now, as age arrives, a new tactic is required to avoid embarrassing damp bits on your trousers.

You ‘go’, you ‘shake’ and then you remember Columbo as he was about to leave the room – “Just one more thing” he would say and that is precisely what your bladder / tube thing and so forth are saying. “You think you’ve finished do you? Oh no you haven’t!” – and that’s the trick according to my contemporaries and my Doc.

Give it a shake then stand around a few more seconds and whistle a tune or something because it ain’t finished yet. It works too! You stand there thinking ‘Oh dear, I’m standing at a urinal not doing anything but holding it and the guy next to me will think I’m a perv’ and then, suddenly, there is a ‘spurt’ you weren’t expecting. Sort of an additional spurt. A spurt that only happens because you are getting old and, sometimes, your aged bits and pieces just need that extra few seconds to make sure.

That, my friends, is the secret of not pissing down your legs as you exit the lavatory / head / toilet / bog etc et al.

When you are getting older and need a piss think of Columbo as you shake. “Just one more thing”. That way you will never again emerge with an embarrassing damp patch down your thigh.

Here endeth the life of ‘Bob’.

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