With all due care and consideration an attractive, blonde, 40-something woman slowly pushes a lubricated, gloved finger into my anus.

“Is that okay?” she asks.

“Um, yeah,” I lie. “I think so.”

“Just concentrate on your breathing,” she says.

This is easier said than done when you feel like you’re going to the bathroom in reverse, but I give it my best shot. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

I am a man approaching 40 years of age, which means that having a perfect stranger digitally probe my lower digestive tract is about to become an annual event. For the time being, however, this sort of thing is neither recommended by my physician nor covered by my health insurance. I’m here, in this rather small, humid, and dimly-lit... Read More