From the original article on October 1, 2008. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
I got roped into a baby shower for an acquaintance. I’d never been to one of these seminal events, though I’ve heard about them. It was as bad as I imagined, maybe worse. Between the pink ribbon-wrapped gifts, blankies, snugglies, baby bouncies, belly-rubbing, earnest discussions of contractions and labor, and torrents of sympathy sludge, I felt like I would suffocate on the maternally estrogenic fumes.
GIMME BOOB MILK!
I saved my mental health by fantasizing what it would be like to make gentle love to a third trimester pregnant woman. This is a mountain I’ve yet to climb. It couldn’t be any more challenging than this. Or this.
The best gift by far was two small jewelry boxes. One was engraved with the words “My First Tooth” and the other with “My First Hair Curl”. This was a great gift because it put a smile on my face as I pondered the milestones that a bunch of my own engraved jewelry boxes filled with mementos of my past conquests would have celebrated.
“My First Forgotten Panty” — It’s pleasantly surprising waking up the next morning, after she has left in her drunken state, to stumble across her panties lying on the floor that she forgot to put on. *sniiiiiff*
“My First Hidden Video” — You never know, she could become famous. And you’ll need masturbation material for when you’re 80. Watching yourself fuck your girl in the bloom of youth >>>> internet porn.
“My First Period Fuck” — Put that bloody used condom or red-stained towel in the box, champ! You’ve earned it.
“My First Threesome” — See: “My First Hidden Video”.
“My First Close Call” — In here you put the abortion clinic receipt.
“My First Anal” — Awkward. You don’t want anything smelly in your box. An audio recording of her yelping in pain is acceptable.
“My First Russian Anal” — An audio recording of her yelping in pain in Russian. (It sounds like this: “Aye, aye aye, Ee ee yi yi yi!”. Music to my ears.)
“My First Raw Dog” — Take an after photo of your cock crusted in dried vaj juice.
“My First Facial” — Tough one to document. Wipe her face with a towel to capture the jizz and makeup in a Turin Shroud-like imprint. Put in box and pray to nightly for the blessings of future facials.
“My First Virgin” — See: My First Period Fuck. You might need a biohazard hymen container for this one.
“My First Fat Chick” — Empty.
“My First Psycho Bitch” — Restraining order.
“My First DC Lawyer Chick” — One silver bullet.
“My First Bartender” — STD fact sheet.
“My First Cunnilingus” — One gnarly pube.
Darwinianly-speaking, women huddle like pinkiron midwives around the expectant QB mother to fulfill a deeply subconscious group coherence bonding mechanism that works to assist the tribe raise its young. Since most women are going to get pregnant at some point in their lives they don’t worry about exerting effort helping out another woman’s child. Men don’t have the luxury to waste resources like this; they could easily lose out on the chance to pass on their genes if they spent time and money on a rival’s kid.
I walked out of that baby shower feeling grateful for being a man.
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