Alright folks, so I figured I’d share how I actually went about finding someone to do my Prince Albert piercing. You know, the real process, not just some theoretical guide. Honestly, it started with a whole lotta nervous Googling late one night. Felt kinda sketchy just typing that out, hoping the neighbours wouldn’t see my screen or something.
The Deep Dive Research Phase
First thing? Scoured tons of piercing studio websites. Like, literally spent hours clicking through. My main rule? Absolutely NO sketchy back rooms or fly-by-night operations. If the place didn’t look cleaner than a hospital operating room in their photos, I mentally crossed it off my list immediately. Saw one spot that looked like a butcher shop in the pics – yeah, HARD pass. Started focusing hard on places specifically shouting about being APP members. Seemed like the only legit safety net.
- Checked every studio’s online portfolios like a detective, zooming in on close-up pics of piercings, especially genital ones. If they only showed ears and noses? Not good enough.
- Scrolled through endless local community posts, hunting for mentions of P.A. piercings. Real mentions, not ads. Found a couple buried threads where guys were whisperin’ about their experiences.
- Stalked review sites. Looked for patterns – consistency was key. Found one highly rated studio but saw a single vague negative mention about male piercings feeling “awkward”. Got suspicious, dug deeper into other reviews mentioning the piercer by name. Turned out the piercer praised in the P.A. reviews was different from the one in the awkward review! Dodged a bullet there by reading between the lines.
Making the Call (And Nearly Chickening Out)
Finally sucked it up and called a few shortlisted places. Man, phone anxiety hit hard. First place? Lady on the phone sounded bored, gave one-word answers to my nervous questions about sterilization and jewelry options. NOPE. Next place? Instantly better vibe – friendly, asked what specifically I was looking into (I stammered out “Um… a Prince Albert?”), assured me they do them regularly, sounded professional as hell. She patiently explained their jewelry options (implant-grade titanium only, good sign!), autoclave process, everything. Felt way more human.
In-Person Vibes Check
Booked a consultation with the second place. Walked in feeling like everyone knew why I was there, though realistically, they probably didn’t. Studio smelled clean, like actual disinfectant, not incense trying to cover smells. Zero grunge factor. My piercer (let’s call him Ben) sat me down privately. No judgment, just laid-back, super knowledgeable. Showed me sealed, sterile jewelry, walked me step-by-step through the ENTIRE process – positioning, the receiving tube (ouch!), the initial pinch, the threading. Demonstrated the forceps on his finger. Honestly? His calm confidence sold me more than anything. Answered every “what if it bleeds like crazy?” and “how bad really is peeing after?” question without laughing.
Commitment Time
Booked the actual piercing for a week later. Showed up, signed a mountain of consent forms – they take this stuff seriously, which is exactly what you want. Ben marked the spot meticulously, double-checked placement with me while I was standing. Deep breaths. Cleaned the area very thoroughly. Felt the clamp – definite pressure, uncomfortable but not agony. Then the actual needle push… honestly, a very intense, sharp sensation but incredibly quick. Over in seconds before my brain fully registered “ouch!” The threading felt weird, kinda tuggy. Ben got the jewelry in super smoothly, secured the ball, and boom. Done. Felt surreal.
The Reality of Aftermath
First few hours? Mostly weird adrenaline. Got home, and yep, the first pee was… an experience. Like spraying a hose with your thumb over it! Takes practice aiming. First night? Slept weirdly, paranoid about rolling over. Morning wood? Oh yeah, sore as hell. But manageable. Strictly followed the saline soaks Ben recommended. The bleeding stuck around for a few days, wasn’t heavy but annoying – boxer briefs and dark towels became my best friends. Honestly, the discomfort was less than I imagined, but the constant awareness of it being there was real. Healing took patience. But seeing a pro? Worth every single second of awkwardness and every penny. No infections, no wonky angles, just a solidly done piece of work. Would never gamble on some cheap shop for this. Done right, it’s fine. Done wrong? Nightmare fuel. Find your Ben.
