I have a two inch by one inch poison ivy wound healing on my ankle. I found it while I was in the shower about two weeks ago. I just assumed that I had somehow unknowingly come across it. Upon further reflection, I realized that I have not been anywhere to get said poison ivy allergic reaction: no forests, no ditches, no long grass or wooded areas of any kind. Where, one might ask, did I pick up poison ivy? I was perplexed. One morning the man looked at my unsheathed ankle (free of it's binds after the irritation cleared up) and said "ow, what happened there?". I explained and all of a sudden he looked quite sheepish. The man had a hunch at how I procured said irritation because he, the man, had brought it home to me.
The man is one of the rare superhumans who is not allergic to things people normally have reactions to, like poison ivy and mosquito bites. The man and some of his buddies went to play paintball (you guessed it) two weeks ago. There are weeds and grass and poison ivy and trees there. He brought home the horrible itchiness of the poison ivy and somehow managed to strategically place it on the inside of my ankle. A place where a lovely kitten-heeled shoe can wreak havoc on the sensitive skin covered with a small section of rashy, horrible, irritating poison ivy outbreak.
As it was already nearly gone, I couldn't be super-pissed at him anymore. He just grinned and said that as long as the worst thing he ever brings home to me is poison ivy irritation, I should be happy. Some men bring home herpes.
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