Being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) provides me with a lot of time to think (because even though I’m watching my kids, my mind is roaming it’s own private Internet). Although this can be productive, it can also be downright dangerous for someone like me to be alone with his mind because ideas like the following are created.
Steely Wife and I have been engaging in some serious discussions regarding the Hat Trick. Yup, we want to increase all the joy and bliss that entwine our lives by adding another little member to the Steely team. As a SAHD, I don’t belong to a union so this provides me with additional job security.
I love trying to make a baby. It’s pretty much the best thing in the world. I don’t get excited for the romantic reasons of bringing another life into the world, although that definitely enjoys a spot in my top 10 list. For me, the process is thrilling for much more debauched reasons: it’s the only time when my wife becomes a sexual Vegas buffet. She’s open all the time and I can have as much as I want. Now imagine if the Vegas buffet had one of those guys who stand out front a Tijuana nightclub blowing a whistle trying to lure every passerby with cheap drink specials. You know, like a carnival barker. That would be my wife when she wants to make a baby. “Step right up and come inside,” she will say in her best Jimmy Durante voice (but hopefully in this case I’m her only customer).
Throughout our history together a pattern has certainly emerged. This insatiable sex drive only presents itself when Steely Wife desires a shiny new infant. During our off season she has a “No Trespassers” sign prominently displayed on her vagina. I think she gets it waxed that way. It makes me feel like she only uses me for my DNA.
So I have devised a plan that I believe will enable me to lengthen the time that her fields will be available for plowing.
Since the days of Adam and Eve, women have used pregnancy as a means to trap unsuspecting and overly-trusting men into a long-term relationship. “Of course I’m on the pill,” a girl might say with the conviction of a seasoned con artist. The man believes her and nine months later he’s saddled with dirty diapers and the obligation of making child support payments. Well, I say let’s turn the tables, men, and assure our woman that we are off the pill. What the hell am I talking about? I want to invent a birth control pill for the guys. It occurs to me that men possess a natural aversion to any modification to their stones but before you reject my idea hear me out. As I was saying, I’d like the buffet to be open more often and for longer hours. How to do that? Tell my wife I’m no longer taking my birth control pill for men (the BCPM) but in reality, I’ll still be ingesting the daily dosage until I’m ready to plant the seed.
Let’s take a look at the pros/cons of my plan, shall we?
Pros (in order of importance):
Cons (in order of severity beginning with the least severe):
A loss of trust
Less sex with my wife
No sex with my wife ever again
From this analysis, one can clearly conclude the positive reasons far outweigh any potential negative consequences. I could probably maintain the charade until my wife freaks out because she doesn’t get pregnant and has a nervous breakdown that results in a trip to the local fertility clinic. By my estimation this will be no more than 28 days. It would also require some pretty adept maneuvering on my part to explain why there is the BCPM in my system. “Someone must’ve slipped it into my fertility smoothie, love,” I might plead. “Let’s question the boy. He never did want siblings.”
So guys, let me know your thoughts, if I should move forward with inventing a BCPM. If you agree, I’ll get to working on it straight away. I’ll just need to borrow one of those home chemistry sets and a high school science text. Also, just remind me: can you mix acids and bases?