On the day of Valentine's Day, my husband took some pills to get a thrill with his mistress, got carried away, and ended up snapping his manhood at a seedy love hotel.   The doctor said it was bad. We either had to spend $119,000 on delicate nerve reattachment surgery or cut it off to save his life.   I held back my laughter as I signed the form. "Cut it off, of course. Saving his life comes first!"   When my husband woke up and realized he was a eunuch, he completely lost it.   I snatched his pillow away with a sneer. "What are you throwing a fit about? You always said being with me made you lose all desire anyway."