Sex or Sportscenter?

My wife wanted two children. I wanted none. We compromised on two.

Yes, that is how married life is. Compromise takes on a new meaning.

We didn’t want to waste any time, so the procreation attempts began immediately. You know what is sexy? Sex. You know what is not sexy? Sex for the sake of creating a child. There’s another confession. I told you this blog would be full of them.

Suddenly, your loving wife becomes the General Patton of sexy time, telling you when, where and how you will do it. She barks out orders like Ty Pennington and his megaphone on Extreme Home Makeover. Remember, I am 44-years old at this time! Sometimes, a guy just wants to watch Sportscenter.

I realize this might be hard for some single men to understand. But believe me, when you are ordered to perform every night, sex can be a little like…work. And I don’t mean working at an amusement park. I mean working at a coal mine. Hard work. Bring-a-pickaxe-and-lunch-because-you-are-going-to-be-here-awhile kind of work.

But every month is like a roller coaster. You hear about the emotions women go through during “that time of the month.” But now, she is angry simply because she HAS that time of the month. So, not only does she experience those normal hormonal issues, she is mad at you because she is not pregnant.

I always thought I was a virile man. Don’t ask me why…I just figured a manly man like me had a lot of little menly men floating around in him. But after a few months without success, I began to doubt myself. I started to wonder if age had burned up my swimmers. I was searching my mind for what year I switched from briefs to boxers to give my guys a better chance. I started researching online how age affects reproduction capabilities. I even started opening those spam messages you get with subject lines claiming the ability to “MAKE YOU AS POTENT AS THE DUGGAR FAMILY.”

Any time she is a second late, it is reason for hope. Grab the pregnancy test! Whoever invented these things clearly didn’t account for older dads. Those lines are so faint, it is difficult for someone with fading eyesight to tell a negative from a positive. Not that I needed to. My wife was usually crying by the time she shoved it at me and was probably thinking, “Here husband, YOU failed again.” Another night without Sportscenter.

Brooke researched online and found that the “best” pregnancy tests were at the Dollar Store. I kid you not. So she goes to the Dollar Store to buy some tests. Guess what? They are all out. Apparently, every other hopeful mama-wannabe in Cincinnati read the same thing online.

So one day, after seven months of trying, Brooke is a little late. It’s three days before Christmas. She takes the test and it has a faint positive sign. With my eyesight, I can’t see it. I don’t trust it. I head off to work, telling Brooke we need to take half a dozen more tests. We’ll go to the Dollar Store when I come home.

I get home from work and Brooke has a Christmas present waiting for me. I am mad, because we weren’t doing Christmas presents this year in order to pay off our wedding and honeymoon. You know how that is…women are great at this. You agree on no presents, and they always manage to get you something, saying, “Well, I only spent a few dollars.” You open up something that she clearly spent three weeks researching online and visiting numerous stores all over greater Cincinnati to find. You, on the other hand, have nothing for her and feel like a giant Mel Gibson in your relationship.

So, I open my present while my mind races on whether I can fake a trip to the drug store and get some little knick-knack there and pretend like I’ve had it all long. Believe me, I have done this before. I slowly pull the wrapping off and see she is presenting me with a digital pregnancy test. My eyes can definitely read this positive sign. Yahtzee!

My swimmers reached their destination!  I am in the big leagues! I can watch Sportscenter again!

I walk around making muscles for a couple seconds, bellowing like a primate at my accomplishment. My wife and I kiss and celebrate. We are ecstatic. Then, the enormity of it all takes hold. I am going to be a dad. I am going to be responsible for another human being. Someone’s whole life will depend on me being a responsible adult.

I decide to open a bottle of wine, even though my wife now must avoid alcohol. Doesn’t matter. I guzzle the whole bottle.