Friday I'm getting an IUD implanted into my baby-making parts because Husband and I are so fertile we get pregnant just thinking about it and I'm frightened, very, very frightened. I say this with no arrogance on my part because it's a bit like winning a car with a great engine and incredible gas mileage. I didn't do anything to earn the car nor did I participate in the design or construction, I'm just a lucky son of a bitch.
This "super fertility" makes me see Husband's dingus as a dangerous weapon, firing bullets of misery. So, after a birth control Mexican stand-off with Husband, I'm getting an IUD. I can't take the pill because I'm an absent minded person who can barely remember to brush her teeth and put on deodorant much less take a pill every day! And I sure as shit can't risk forgetfulness and wind up knocked up.
Husband refuses to get snipped because, according to him, his participation in not getting pregnant is excessive due to his super-human sperm. He limits his involvement to the making process, after that he keeps his focus on getting an erection.
I'd have all my insides scooped out, but that's a bigger procedure with a bigger price tag and I'm cheap. Although, the cheapest route is to stay strictly oral for the rest of our lives, but apparently this does not work for Husband who is ready to murder me in defense of his penis. It seems withholding sex as a method of birth control is a direct attack on the penis. Who knew?
Last night I dreamed Husband was having sex with a girl from his office and a friend of mine (I will not disclose the friend for fear she will be hurt and my other friends will feel slighted) during wild hotel coke parties he was hosting on his lunch hour. Needless to say we'll be having sex (minus the coke) as soon as that IUD is hooked in there nice and tight.
Tell me this doesn't look like an alien from planet Grulock? Or a majestic mountain ram?