There are all sorts of financial, health and social reasons for having a vasectomy. And they are all seemingly sensible motives for wanting to avoid another infestation of children. But let’s get real. Let’s get freaky.
We all like our sexy time. In fact, we physiologically need our sexy time. In Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, its right there with food, water, shelter and maintaining homeostasis. (That’s breathing.) Basically, Justin Timberlake was full of crap. He didn’t bring sexy back, because sexy never went anywhere. Sexy has been around since forever. One day a sexy Stegosaurus caught a glimpse of another sexy Stegosaurus bent over eating some sexy leaves and said, “Hey sexy. You wanna get all sexy on each other?”
You know what the answer was.
Unfortunately for the dinosaurs, they didn’t have a Urologistasaurus. But guess what – we do. We have opposable thumbs. And we can snip things. We can continue with our beautiful human love, passion and need for gettin’ busy without the coital consequence of breeding. I’ve done my share. Twice.
I no longer feel the instinct to propagate the species. I just like touching my lady’s lady parts. I mean seriously, my wife is a babe – a totally foxy, red-hot mama. I’d post pictures of her, but I don’t want wordpress to ban me for inadvertently creating a pornography site.
So here’s one of the perks I’m looking forward to most after having a needle and a knife taken to my testes. Spontaneity. Sure, we’ll still have to dodge our current offspring, so that they’re tiny little minds aren’t scarred for life – but it’ll get a whole lot easier. It’s ironic, really. Kids are the result of sex. Then, once born, they are almost immediately responsible for the hindering of sex.
Well, I’m bigger. And I’m smarter. And I’ve found a workaround.
Another bonus will be getting rid of birth control. Pills are expensive – and kinda wonky on my gal’s system. And condoms? Not only are they a pain in the penis to put on, but they totally break up the sweet lovin’ action. That’s why they never show that scene in any films of ill repute. Ron Jeremy ain’t got time for that. And the feeling, of course, is vastly different – no matter what the stupid package says. Oh, and the freakin’ smell. Is that really the best the condom companies could do? C’mon, nobody ever created a perfume wafting the enticing aroma of prophylactic latex infused with spermicidal lubricant.
So let’s do it. Let’s get to the doc and drop some drawers.
I’m feeling a bit randy already.