Monday, July 09, 2001
On rereading my own posts I realize that I derailed my train of thought on an earlier tirade. I had originally started out bemoaning the status of the spouse of a pregnant person. I want to continue on that because I think somebody needs to say it and lord knows I wasn't ready for what happened.
Let me begin by saying for the record that when I was in school there was no sex ed. On a misleadingly plain day, the girls in our class were taken aside. We boys were allowed to go outside for an extended sort of recess. Which was great! We were only sixth grade boys and didn't know any better. Ah innocence. When the girls returned, they had a new gleam in their eye. There was a power that they were inheriting and they had just been clued in to it's potential. We (boys) did not realize this, at least not for a couple more years. By the time we did, it was already far, far to late. They knew the power of a fuzzy sweater, the mysteries of make up, we had never noticed that saucy switch in the stride, we were destined to be bumbling goons. Nothing is as awkward as a sophomore with an erection.
Now there are new territories that I am experiencing. And I have come back to tell you, that you are NOT ready!
You think you are? You think you've seen it all? Allright then Mr. Man, here is a little test for you to see if you are ready for the great frontiers of marriage and/or pregnancy.
Ready? OK, here goes:
VAGINAL DISCHARGE!!
Did you shudder? I thought so. Would you like me to elucidate. Well too bad, I'm going to anyway because misery loves company. To begin in sort of medical sounding terms, what, pray tell, are the wonderful walls of our favorite feminine organ made up of? Bzzz! Mucus membranes, that is correct. And what do said membranes produce when bloodflow is increased due to stimulation? They make girl juice, slippy stuff, come. That's right, no matter what you call it, it is still pretty much just snot. I know it's a nasty truth, but I bet it won't keep you from enjoying the sensation all the same. Now here is the next question for you, when else does the pink palace of passion get a lot of busy blood flow? Kee-rect again! During pregnancy. And what does this have to do with you and me? What are you going to notice? Two words. Chick stink. Crusty Undies. The screaming heebie-jeebies when your sorting the laundry. It's no fun anymore.
I just thought someone ought to tell you since no one ever told me.
Believe me there's more, like going for a lip lark in the distant hills of Boobie land and suddenly getting a sip from the local hot springs. Not that that has happened much lately. What with the back pain and hip trouble, I am on a distinctly passion-less diet. And it is getting really old.
Think this is nasty, rude or vulgar? Fine, email me and let me know. I'd just like to find out if anyone is reading this.
Let me begin by saying for the record that when I was in school there was no sex ed. On a misleadingly plain day, the girls in our class were taken aside. We boys were allowed to go outside for an extended sort of recess. Which was great! We were only sixth grade boys and didn't know any better. Ah innocence. When the girls returned, they had a new gleam in their eye. There was a power that they were inheriting and they had just been clued in to it's potential. We (boys) did not realize this, at least not for a couple more years. By the time we did, it was already far, far to late. They knew the power of a fuzzy sweater, the mysteries of make up, we had never noticed that saucy switch in the stride, we were destined to be bumbling goons. Nothing is as awkward as a sophomore with an erection.
Now there are new territories that I am experiencing. And I have come back to tell you, that you are NOT ready!
You think you are? You think you've seen it all? Allright then Mr. Man, here is a little test for you to see if you are ready for the great frontiers of marriage and/or pregnancy.
Ready? OK, here goes:
VAGINAL DISCHARGE!!
Did you shudder? I thought so. Would you like me to elucidate. Well too bad, I'm going to anyway because misery loves company. To begin in sort of medical sounding terms, what, pray tell, are the wonderful walls of our favorite feminine organ made up of? Bzzz! Mucus membranes, that is correct. And what do said membranes produce when bloodflow is increased due to stimulation? They make girl juice, slippy stuff, come. That's right, no matter what you call it, it is still pretty much just snot. I know it's a nasty truth, but I bet it won't keep you from enjoying the sensation all the same. Now here is the next question for you, when else does the pink palace of passion get a lot of busy blood flow? Kee-rect again! During pregnancy. And what does this have to do with you and me? What are you going to notice? Two words. Chick stink. Crusty Undies. The screaming heebie-jeebies when your sorting the laundry. It's no fun anymore.
I just thought someone ought to tell you since no one ever told me.
Believe me there's more, like going for a lip lark in the distant hills of Boobie land and suddenly getting a sip from the local hot springs. Not that that has happened much lately. What with the back pain and hip trouble, I am on a distinctly passion-less diet. And it is getting really old.
Think this is nasty, rude or vulgar? Fine, email me and let me know. I'd just like to find out if anyone is reading this.
