Dear Grown Naked Man,

Never in my life have I had such a hard time keeping a straight face. But you just don't expect to walk into the student (emphasis added for a reason) locker room to find a dude in his mid-30s wearing nothing but flip flops and a smile shaving at the communal sinks like he's in the privacy of his own home. My apologies for the reflexive double-take that had my eyes fixated on your boysenberries. Did it occur to you that the towel so nonchalantly draped over your shoulder also serves as a deflective shield against awkward moments like ours?

But I do appreciate the glimpse into my not-too-distant future. I can't wait to have balls that look like a billy goat's chin and hang so low people confuse them with my kneecaps.

Still waiting for my balls to drop,

P.S. You might want to consider taking that razor a little further south. Completely un-manscaped crotches are about as in vogue as Crystal Pepsi.

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