Just Be Normal

Last year, I had sex for the third time in my life. The first two times were only done because I am the #1 Feminist Ally. I felt it was my duty to create more women. However, over the years I realized this was flawed thinking, and that I was actually playing into the hands of the patriarchy. I had brought more women into this world to be exploited by it. That was not very #1 Feminist Ally of me. A #1 Feminist Ally would need to also create more men like himself to fix society at a foundational level.

I didn't want to, but there was no other way to make this world better for my daughters. So, I had sex with my wife, and produced a son.

You can't cancel me for being Sex Selective here, by the way. God only gave me the three sperm. I used up the two girl ones first. Take it up with the one true Creator, not me.

There's been so much written, and so very many viral examples, about how people no longer know how to act in public anymore, and The Death of Decorum. Perhaps the vaccines made people magnetic and crazy? Maybe the woke mind virus attacks the part of the brain that regulates courtesy? Or, it could be that the erosion of community created by our ever-more-isolating society has turned people's brains into digital soup. Who is to say.

What I haven't seen much talked about is the inverse—people no longer know how to react when someone is being harmlessly personable to them. If you so much as try to idle chit chat while out in public you will actually see people's faces go catatonic and their fight-or-flight instinct kick in.

While at the hospital, I got in trouble several times for being a normal person doing and saying normal things. Below is an abridged version of those events.

Playing Hangman on the Dry Erase Board

I was not at the hospital more than 40 minutes before being told that I cannot erase things off the board to play a game to pass the time with my wife, who was nervous. In my defense, I feel like PLACENTA is Goals in this particular instance.

Making an Objectively Funny Joke

After delivery, they wheel us back to the holding/prep room and take the baby into another room to get its official weight and length. I went with two nurses, and stood in the corner to ensure they didn't swap my feminist son with a non-feminist son. One of the Pediatricians came into the room, and said "Oh, he's got a little skin tag on his nippy." It should be noted at this point that I had not changed out of the scrubs I was given.

I replied, "We can just add that to the removal order with the circumcision."

The Pediatrician turned around and glowered at me with a look you reserve for the person with 12 items in the express checkout line.

"...And who are you?"

The other nurses quickly jumped in to say that I was the father. I had been mistaken for a lowly medical intern who earnestly suggested slapping some Dr. Scholl's® Freeze Away® Skin Tag Remover on a newborn.

Editor's Note: During my wife's first C-Section, the doctor held up her placenta for all the interns to marvel at and proclaimed "This is one of the most beautiful Placentas I've ever seen. Meaty. Like a Porterhouse Steak." And no one even reacted to such an insane thing to say while stretching out an organic-matter parasail.

Laughing at an Objectively Funny Statement

We had several nurses during our nearly 4-day stay (a snafu with discharge had us staying an extra 12 hours, which I'm sure will not be coded in a complicated way for me to challenge when the BCBS EOB comes.). One of the best ones was Jill, who told us that the breast milk storage tubes were actually great for salad dressing, and that "she steals them all the time."

My wife had chest congestion and a cough the few weeks prior, and we were trying to figure out something she could take that was safe for a pregnant/nursing woman. They said Robitussin was good, but it turns out that will dry out your milk supply! Strike 1. Then they gave her some Tessalon® Perles®, but turns out that just helps to suppress the cough not help fix it. Strike 2. She brought us a breath measurement contraption to help her lungs.

When Jill handed this device to us, she said "My husband used this when he got run over by a tractor..." And I lost it. I'm sorry. You cannot introduce this bit of information out of nowhere. You cannot lead with this. You certainly cannot present this Dr. Seuss-ass machinery while saying someone got run over by a tractor. And that this helped them. Peak comedy. Squashes anything the Farrelly brothers could conceive of.

Don't worry. Her husband is fine, thanks in small part to this Bizarro Plastic Bagpipe, and a lot of physical therapy.

Elevator Doors

You know how most elevators can sense that something is in the way of the doors closing? And then do not close? Well, this hospital's elevator doors did not have that feature. By the time people exited the elevator, two people could get inside before the doors would shut on the third person. I found this out the hard way.

When bringing in a backpack, two duffel bags, a Boppy pillow around my neck, and holding a Chick-Fil-A bag and drink carrier in one hand and my phone in the other, I walked onto the elevator. As the third person entering, the doors closed on me and hit me in the shoulder so hard I dropped my phone. None of the other people on the elevator or people behind me said anything. I bent down and grabbed my phone (again with 100 lbs of sundries on my person) as other people filed in behind me—now someone put their hand on the door to force-stop them from closing.

"More like an Elev-hater. It doesn't want to see me get to the sixth floor. Am I right?"

Crickets. More people file on.

"Wow. Tough Crowd-ed Elevator."

Nothing.

Boy, if one of y'all don't acknowledge me I will start a small fire in this bitch before we get to the second floor.

Engaging with a Service Worker

A cherished piece of lore from the first pregnancy was that my wife wanted to surprise me at work with lunch. She stopped by Subway (we were very poor at the time), and knew that I both liked the Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki, but also the Chipotle Ranch sauce—something I would put on a cheesesteak-centric sub. With brain fog caused by growing a human and little-to-no experience ordering sandwiches, she requested them to make a Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki with Chipotle Ranch sauce on Honey Oat bread.

A real Sandwich Artist would have put a stop to that, and refused. They most likely did not want to make a pregnant woman cry, or that by making this they would win some secret franchise-wide contest of the most fucked up sandwich.

I ate it because I did not want to make a pregnant woman cry.

I haven't had Subway since throwing two of them off a parking garage for Four Pins (RIP), but it was the only food option at the time when I visited the cafeteria late. The person in front of me was an employee but her badge didn't scan or work, which meant that her usual free chips and drink could not be rung up by the employees because they didn't have the authority to override the sale. After some bickering, the issue was finally placated when a manager appeared from the back. However, the damage was done. Everyone was now irritated so I eschewed my original plan of ordering a various meats and peppers bespoke option for a normal Cold Cut Combo® (ham, salami, and bologna) with jalapeños.

At the register, I remembered our Sweet Onion Teriyakipotle Fiasco and thought I could lighten the mood by asking the cashier "What's the grossest sandwich you've ever had to make?"

"All of them. Do you want to make this a combo?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

Hung Son or THOT Daughter

It's normal for a dad to be concerned about his son's penis—due to patriarchy. Every penis is beautiful in its own right, but you want him to be free from dealing with the calamity of having a gnarled member. I would request my wife eat "goober foods" like peanuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, etc., to support this crucial developmental growth. Is there any scientific evidence to this? No. In fact, the basis of my beliefs is purely anecdotal.

1. I had a friend in high school whose grandfather saw him eating trail mix, and said "Eating that goober food, huh?"
2. As an adolescent I downloaded porn off Kazaa. One of the images was a couple having sex and someone put text over it that just said PUMPKIN SEEDS

Post-circumcision, they were showing us how to care for it.

After a slight pause, I said "Do they make drop-crotch diapers... looks like he's gonna need some more room in there." This may have been the one thing I deserved to be chastised for.

Footnote: My son telepathically communicated with me that he wanted to be circumcised. He said he plans on doing foreskin regrowth later in life to become an intact man. He didn't want to take the easy way out. I'm so proud that he doesn't run from the grind.