Gigantic Balls
Fun with drugs after divorce
High on magic mushrooms, hoping for spiritual enlightenment, I started having very intrusive visuals of the balls of the man I was dating. They were so huge, hung so low, and were covered in skin tags. I was trying to celebrate my divorce being finalized, and I was so ready to feel better, and balls were not part of my plan.
The gigantic hanging balls started appearing when I had my eyes closed, trying to stop how my bedroom walls were breathing. When I opened my eyes, the balls became more significant, and the skin tags started to vibrate and dance around.
I turned on Netflix and started watching happily ever after to see if that made the balls disappear. I got distracted by the storyline but got mad at the show’s main character, whose name was the same as my sister. And then I got mad at my sister. She was still married and had three perfect kids and a hot fucking husband who was a literal model.
This was my first time doing mushrooms, but she would have thought it was the second. At 15, her best friend and I had tripped out together.
“How do you know they are real? And like, what if they could kill you or something?” I asked my sister about our plans, quickly betraying how uncool I was.
“Oh my god! You’re such a…such an adult,” she said, walking away from me and throwing her hands up in the air.
When it was the time to do the drugs, I was so lonely and desperate to be cool; I asked my sister and her friend, “um. I was kind of thinking I wanted to try them. Like if it’s okay…..and you have enough.”
My sister laughed at my request, and her friend Tiffany said, “sure. Let’s hope they don’t kill you.” Tiffany was in charge and knew how to partake in the drugs. She brewed up a tea for the three of us to drink.
I chickened out and faked drinking the tea. Tiffany started to look at her hands and said, “They look so beautiful.” And as if she was following a script, my sister started marveling at her hair. Panicking, I started pretending that the tile floor was moving, trying to copy their behavior.
“Let me see your cup!” Tiffany demanded, waking me out of staring at the tile.
“Why?” I asked, so glad I had dumped the tea into a house plant.
“Cuz you must be faking it!”
“Whatever!” I said and ran away to my bedroom. I had failed again at being who people thought I should be and would never be in with the cool crowd.
Back to my actual trip, post 40 years old, it occurred to me that whatever that tea was wasn’t mushrooms. And the irony of all irony was the way I was faking being high at 15 was pretty accurate.
I relaxed into smugness, and the balls came back. “Fuck” I yelled and scared the cat.
“Okay. Get your shit together. There has to be a reason you see his balls,” I yelled at myself in the mirror.
The owner of the balls was a nice guy. He was like most men I dated in that he was a man, and he showed interest in me. I felt not much for him, but I never paid attention to what I felt. He had also offered to do mushrooms with me. “I’d love to see you unfiltered and open,” he said in a way that made my pussy dry up instantly.
“Get your shit together. No more balls.” I said to my perplexed dog. I was bombarded with a visual of my ex-husband’s balls. A slight improvement in that his balls were at least free of skin tags, but they still made me recoil.
I had three more hours of every set of balls possible and foul tv on Netflix before I came out of it. I reached out to a friend who was a guide for people on healing psychedelic trips and asked to meet up with her the next day. As soon as she arrived at my house, I bombarded her with my lack of a spiritual awakening.
“It sounds like you did have one.” She said with all seriousness.
“Huh?”
“Your brain was trying to tell you something? What could the balls mean?”
“That I am a lesbian?” I half-joked but also wondered why I was so not attracted to this part of the men I’d been with.
“Nope. But let me ask you something. Have you ever been physically attracted to any guy you’ve been with?”
“Well, not right away. But I’ve always — “
She cut me off, “okay. I see I need to spell It out. You are still that teenager, trying desperately to be cool. You are so easily bending your wants and needs to whoever is in front of you. “
She let that sit for a while and then chastised me for doing the mushrooms alone. Not listening to her, I started to see the gigantic balls again. They were less frightening without the impact of the mushrooms, but the message was clear. I needed to stop fucking any man that showed interest in me and accepts that I’ll never be cool.
