There’s an unspoken law of human sexuality that translates, very generally, into “people like to screw more during the summer”. Is it the skimpier clothes? An abundance of sunlight kicking off an overload of Vitamin D?
I don’t know.
But what I do know is this:
I, along with every other man unlucky enough to step into fatherhood this summer, will be so far from sex, the most action we’ll get will come from pressing a glass against the wall to listen to the neighbours get it on.
It didn’t have to be like this.
I was all set for the most depraved summer of my life. I had plans to live on a dilapidated houseboat I rented from an aging hippie, packed from aft to starboard with cross-eyed call girls gyrating in bikinis while I drank warm rum straight from the bottle and ate mercury-ladened haddock from that lake by the caved-in coal mine.
But I suppose I’ve had this whole baby thing coming. It was only a matter of time before my trick of pretending to adjust the condom but actually removing it would come to bite me in the ass.
If you’re a father who is forced to watch co-eds shake on by from your front window, with a baby attached to your chest in a snuggly, a bottle and a soother in each hand and the vague smell of dried breast milk drifting from your collar, it won’t get better for some time yet.
It’s going to be bleak for a while. Very, very bleak.
Your Wife Physically Can’t Screw You
If you were foolish enough to brave your wife’s childbirth personally, instead of drinking Canadian Club in a Hooters like a real man, then you know that what happened in that room cannot be undone. Sure, doctors say the body is resilient and can reassemble itself to its original shape after trauma but good God man, I don’t know how anything can recover from that. A man passing through an industrial meat grinder will have an easier time rehabbing his body than a post-natal mother.
Best case scenario: she’s endowed with Wolverine’s restorative powers. Great. You still aren’t getting sex for a while. Most doctors want mom to wait until the six-week checkup before they give her the green light to get down. By that time, you’ll be so desperate for sex, when the septuagenarian brushes by your crotch trying to exit a crowded train, you will be brought instantly to orgasm.
You Might Not Want to Screw Her Either
This one’s a little tricky. I mean, she’s the love of your life and has carried your child for 40 weeks but there`s only so many hours you can sit next to her on the couch while she works her nipple over with a second-hand breast pump before you start losing interest in boobs altogether.
And like I said before, if you were in the delivery room – as I was – the things you will see in there will be impossible to un-see. It is pure carnage; bedlam. A medical outpost in a warzone would have fewer horrors than what I saw in there. You can’t tell me there isn’t a tiny voice in your head that’s a bit apprehensive diving back in there.
I know I’m going to do it – so are you – but I’m man enough to admit I’m terrified of this woman now. I didn’t know how the female plumbing worked before this ordeal and after watching childbirth I know it’s bad down there. All bad.
You’re Not Creepy Anymore
A metaphysical shift occurs once a man goes from leering creep in a Tapout shirt to leering creep in a Tapout shirt with a baby. A father becomes automatically more attractive to women. Women who aren’t your wife.
After years of having their asses grabbed in clubs and their hair smelled by freaks standing behind them in a Starbucks line, women have become equipped with a set of defenses specifically tailored to keep you away. Unless you’re, I don`t know, Channing Tatum, the moment a woman sees you, she has identified you as a threat and the fast twitch muscles in her legs are primed to unleash a kick to your groin should you stop to ask her her sign.
But a man holding a child disarms those defenses. She thinks if some woman saw enough in you not to run to the nearest shelter after giving birth, the father must not be all bad.
We both know that isn’t true – you are every bit as bad and creepy as she would have identified sans-baby – but as long as she doesn’t know that, use it to your advantage.
Yes, I said take advantage of their brain glitch.
I know what you’re thinking: “But, I’m a happily married man and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my new family.”
Who are you going to listen to? Your weasel conscience who got you into this mess or me, a tax evader with an undiagnosed personality disorder?
You’re on the hook for this baby for the next 18 years and let’s face it, the baby looks a lot like the personal trainer at your wife’s gym. So go on, man. Use your new baby to help you cheat on your wife.
If it all goes to hell (which never happens with infidelity, trust me) and your wife tosses you out, I’ve got a boat you can crash on. I’ve got your back. Don’t worry about a thing.
Help support us by shopping at The Scrib Store!
Comments are closed.