Whenever you tell a casual friend, overbearing mother or complete stranger that your having a kid, the immediate response is, what sex is it. You just announced the most natural, divine act that mankind is capable of yet the mad obsessions with sex already begins, this kid won’t even know how to play with his private parts for the next decade yet the so called grown ups are already fixated on the sex of your sperm scoring, fetus forming infant. I don ‘t care what sex the kid is because were committed to having it, abortion was never an option because it was sort of planned and my wife turns 30 next month and her eggs aren’t getting any fresher, so the sex of the kid is insignificant at this point and has no impact on my satisfaction level, sanity, sex life or sure-fire sperm shooters that got her pregnant after only firing of a couple of initially construed practice rounds by a cornfield while hippies blared Grateful Dead tunes like Not Fade Away which hummed outside our baby creating, top the line, just broken in, tent.
If I had to chose, I’d prefer a girl because then the kids will stand a better chance of becoming more like it’s mommy. I don’t want to pass down my knocked knees, can’t sit Indian style comfortably limbs to a boy that can’t go to a yoga class without feeling like he got the deformed end of the stick. Also, if we have a boy, I just know that he’ll inherit my trip over paved sidewalks while digging into my wife’s back heal, level of coordination which he’ll resent me for forever. I’m also not even close to closing that gap between being a shishy bitch and being a man’s man so at this point, I’m unprepared and unsuited to teach my kid how to be a real man let alone end my own humiliating, pussified, panic stricken state around power tools, bar fights or under the hood of a car while an oil covered mechanic hovers over me, raping me for all I’m worth from behind. How can I teach my kid how to be a man when I’m barely clinging on to that title? I don’t know how to throw a punch, change a tire or avoid getting raped by an Italian Mechanic as stated before, so what type of man defining wisdom do I have to offer my potential baby boy? Thank god that your tall because nobody really messes with you even though they don’t know that your father’s only contact with boxing was him experiencing a boxer’s fracture after he punched a stationary door after missing an easy pool shot in some loser, sightless, bar outside of Hermosa Beach on the day of Rosh Hashanah where he had no business day drinking in the first place. What other pearls of man exerting knowledge can I can teach? Triple A is the most dependable friend a Jewish man can have. If you want to become a real man, you’ll tell me to not pay for your Bar Mitzvah and take you shopping at Home Depot instead. I’ll also make to sure to prevent my kid from listening to all of my old hair metal records and to ban him from reading any collectible issues of Circus magazine so his bedroom doesn’t look like a house of She- Males, pursing lips, doing splits and licking their guitar shafts. If you want to be a real man kid, I’ll send you to Wilderness Ventures so you can learn how to hone your outdoor, survival instincts, scale mountains, start fires and stare down bears without trickling pee down your leg like a tepid tranny caught taking a pee in a back alley in the Meatpacking District in front of a group of drunk, horny, frat boys, about to strike. I also hate this half a fag notion that you receive whenever I tell someone that I’d actually prefer a girl over a boy as that’s the most repulsive, sexually repugnant, hell damning statement an alleged straight man can make. I’ve always gotten along better with woman, and always found for more woman than men to spend my free time with. Having a warm, juicy, glory hole for me to nestle my macho man, maligning, monster inside certainly helps but once I’ve surpassed that sweaty sex period of the relationship, I’m spending what, five minutes a day inside there, tops. Besides blah brained, vacant, yenta yuksters, woman are more interesting conversationalists than men because the majority of men are about as deep as the eighteen hole and as humorous as the blank faced, dead eyed, sleepy time, emotionally numb skulled Andy Roddick. Let’s face it guys suck. Guys cheat, get fat and try to get co-workers fired for challenging their corporate authority like humorless shriveled up pee, pee heads. In my previous piece, I placed slight emphasis on the female reaction to our baby announcement which was far from storybook but what these woman fail to realize is that I just expect a better showing from them in comparison to dudes who are supposed to be the ones that act stupefied, confused, and emotionally ambiguous from such uprooting, Christopher Columbus, new world opening discoveries. I hate guys that drop lines like, I got to have a boy like an extension of them is crucial for the advancement of mankind or that his holy seed will give birth to the next incarnation of the Dali Lama. These guys always demand to know what the sex is ahead of time so they can mentally prepare themselves for the prospect of not generating more of them which was pretty sleazy, cheap and thoughtless last time I checked but brace away for not being able to perpetuate such a lovely, refreshing, concoction. The main concern any father has for a girl is her being sexually assaulted yet my potential daughter will be well versed in the martial arts and will be shoeless until she earns her black belt so I’m not sweating out that outcome so I can wish for an annoying, loud, unsophisticated, run of the mill teenage boy. Wishing for a boy just seems beyond cliché and not all that unique. If we have a daughter, that kid has a strong chance of becoming a bad ass, long legged, hilarious, artistic, laugh out loud, balling beauty. Child Molestation has nothing to do with my desire to bang out a girl by the way. In the end, I’d prefer a girl because the world needs more super sweet, cool, funny, tree hugging, big hearted, gentle yet strong, love filled spirits that shine inside my wife and with some luck will be passed on to our child. Written By, Josh Kornbluth
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