Being Bollocked.
Wearing a mask while a GP examined my gentleman's area last week made me feel positively coquettish. There's a lot to be said for maintaining a sense of mystery. It's good to keep a little something back. Not your scrotum though, as that's public property, and should take the role of the face as a man's most identifying feature in a mask-wearing pandemic (though less of the "little something", thank you very much). It's just a more extreme version of the many awkward micro-moments provoked by the current circumstances (like your glasses steaming up because you're wearing a mask writ large). The doctor and I were the only two attendees of the world's most demeaning masquerade ball with the ball in question the most out-in-the-open part. The fact the doctor was a junior one at least leant a sense of learning to proceedings with me proud to assist their education, though I'm not sure if the chaperone also in the room was there for the GP or ...