So, um, I guess we are getting to be People Of A Certain Age.
I realized this recently because:
1) A friend of mine told me her husband was getting a vasectomy,
2) The husband knew I knew,
3) I told MY husband,
4) The next time we were all together my husband mercilessly ribbed my friend’s husband about it.
There was a time when such knowledge would’ve offended Otto’s delicate sensibilities. I mean, there was probably NEVER a time when it would’ve offended ME, but we already know that I am largely without shame. Still, brazen offers of frozen peas and scotch delivery in mixed company seem a bit beyond the pale.
Of course, a vasectomy is a simple medical procedure, right? No one would think twice about saying, “Sorry, I can’t make it, I’m having a mole removed that morning,” or “Actually, I’m having a root canal then.” On the other hand, its implied connection to S-E-X makes it a somewhat racy topic by default. You probably wouldn’t tell someone you couldn’t attend that meeting because you were having a new IUD inserted, or because you had to go buy condoms.
And I’m sure it goes without saying that my friend and I are having a LOT of fun at her husband’s expense, because here we are—women who’ve given birth a couple of times, and therefore not exactly unfamiliar with PAIN and physical SACRIFICE—trying not to crack up over the universality of men being protective of their nuts. We try not to laugh while they’re LISTENING, anyway.
I mean, I’ve yet to meet the guy who doesn’t seem to feel that submitting to a vasectomy is tantamount to leaping in front of a speeding train. They don’t just want the TLC they feel they deserve, post-operatively, they want pomp and circumstance related to their BRAVERY.
Anyway, the fact that Otto knew about this and had even participated in some joking around about it meant that it was a valid topic for conversation. OR SO I THOUGHT. But, you know, sometimes I am OH SO WRONG.
I initiated the topic right before bed, because apparently I like to end the day by completely perplexing the love of my life.
Me: So would you have a vasectomy, if I asked you to?
Otto: [looks at me like I have three heads]
Me: I mean, if I hadn’t had a hyst, and we needed birth control? Would you have been willing?
Me: I’m just curious.
Me: I don’t know! Because it seems like such a BIG DEAL, like it’s a question of a guy’s very manhood, or whatever. I’m just curious to know if you would’ve, if it was an issue for us.
Otto: It’s not.
Me: I KNOW. I’M JUST ASKING.
Otto: But it’s totally moot.
Me: YES IT IS. I notice you’re not actually answering.
Otto: I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.
Me: No, I AM JUST ASKING. Does that mean you WOULDN’T?
Otto: Are you going to blog about this? You’re asking me because you want to blog about this.
Me: No! I was just CURIOUS!
Me: Well I’m totally going to blog about it NOW.
Otto: That was your plan all along. I know when I can’t give the right answer.
Me: No, I had no plans to blog about it until you got all squirrelly. Now I’m going to blog about your ‘nads and it’s ALL YOUR FAULT.
Otto: Oh my God.
Me: You love me. You love me SO MUCH.
Otto: [after a long pause] Yes.
Me: But you’re not sure why.
Otto: [after a long pause] No.