My friends Paul and Aaron are two of those types of guys who can just make any situation infinitely more entertaining just by being present. Some of the best times I’ve had with them have come while we were standing in line for concert tickets, or stuck in traffic, or waiting for the cable guy to arrive at my new apartment.

What I’m saying is, they are that sort of couple you can hang out with and they never make you feel like the third wheel. They are just really great at being inclusive, and they are funny as hell!

They are also the sort of couple that was up to date on every trend, fad, or rumor that you ever could have turned a head to. I never really figured out where they got their information, but if I mentioned something that I had only recently heard of, they had already tried it and had a hilarious story to tell.

Paul and Aaron are also the types of friends who would dutifully support you during times of loneliness and long patches of singledom.

Well, one afternoon, the three of us were seated around my little dinette, drinking mimosas and discussing what our evening plans would be. Paul was folding through the Times and Aaron was casually dicing up a couple kiwi fruits. Looking up from the paper, Paul mentioned to Aaron that it was ‘about that time.’

“Oh, you’re right!” Aaron exclaimed, setting his knife down on the plate that served his fruit. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” He got up, walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

“What was that all about?” I asked, a little confused.

“Well, he’s working on strengthening his pc muscles.”

“Um. Okay. What the hell are pc muscles?”

“Oh my God!” Paul exclaimed, before summarily referring to me as having lived a sheltered life. He proceeded to explain that pc muscles are responsible for controlling erection and ejaculation and that they could be strengthened doing exercises similar to women’s kegel exercises.

Evidently, there is no dark secret to the manner in which male porn stars are able to fire away those thick, long distance streams of come. Apparently, it’s just a matter of training yourself adequately.

“So it really works?” I asked, quite intrigued.

“Of course. I’ve been working mine for about 15 minutes a day for years now. I can regularly produce at least three or four long, heavy streams. My all-time best landed more than seven feet away. I could have cleared Shaq!”

Flabbergasted, and more than a little disbelieving, I belted out a hearty guffaw at Paul’s exaggeration. “No way!”

“Way. You don’t believe me? I’ll show you.” He raised his brows in assertion of his statement, indicating that no jest was meant.

“Well, how do you actually, perform the exercises?” I asked, even more intrigued now than I was before.

“Aaron, darling!” Paul called in the direction of the bathroom door. “Oscar here is very interested in what you’re doing in there. Why don’t you come out here and tutor him in the arts.”

“Really?” a muffled voice questioned from behind the closed door.

“Uh… Sure!” I called back, half expecting Aaron to burst through door laughing and saying, “We got you!” to put an end to their practical joke.

Rather, the bathroom door creaked open to reveal Aaron –