And then there were 3....Dead Swimmers

I am more afraid of getting pregnant than I am of fire. Which is why my husband went to get snipped the day before National Vasectomy Day. He didn’t do it on purpose.  We actually had no idea until a mommy friend of mine called us before the St. Patrick’s Day Parade and said she heard it was National Vasectomy Day.

Instead of laying up on the couch and watching NCAA games all day like every other man in America who had their junk snipped, my husband decided that he felt well enough to attend the St. Patrick’s Day parade downtown.   Awww…whatta good husband.
The parade was good, he had a little aching…of which he said, “he could feel the titanium clamps in his balls.” Whatevs.

How about a 5 pound baby laying on your bladder, rolling on your intestines and denying you of the much need Guiness Beer last St. Patrick’s Day? Okay so I had one beer….I humbly admit.
Anyways…his discharge instructions from the nurse were simply this, “Ejaculate 25 times, and then bring in your sample.”

So he did his jerking off duty (so hard…no pun intended).  He went back to the doctor’s office with sample in hand.
He gets a call back from the nurse later that day with the results.  Three dead swimmers.  Those willful ass mother  Fers.

So his new instructions from the nurse, “Come back with a new sample in 30 days.  Make sure you ejaculate A LOT.”

At this point, I’ve lost count on how long it’s been since we’ve had sex.  Months we’re talking.  I said I wouldn’t do it until we have confirmation that the swimmers are gone.

Three dead swimmers does not make it safe for my fertile myrtle ass.  I need like a really definite zero before that penis gets anywhere within 2 feet of me.
So here we are like 2 months later and my husband won’t go back to the doctor’s office because he’s embarrassed to blow a load in our Tupperware (the nurse said any jar would suffice for a specimen).  From what I hear, the receptionist is young and semi-hot so that just adds to the embarrassment.

We’ve had some drunk sex episodes (I think), but nothing I can call to mind for sure.
As I’m writing this right now – my husband is complaining about the feeling of titanium in his sac (because he needs attention) and is acting like it’s worse than child birth.

I will update when I actually get laid.

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