hmmmm, How do you talk your boyfriend into a vasectomy?
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s good to be back. And no, I’m not referencing the lack of questions of late (though now I am – seriously people, send ‘em in!) I’m talking about my stint on the popular Bolivian game show La Fiesta No Fue la Más Caniches del Mundo. If I’ve gotten the name wrong, you’ll have to forgive me as the only thing I’m able to do in Spanish is ask if someone can please take the handcuffs off. It was there that I met, and subsequently divorced, my latest wife Brucia. It never would have worked out. She was a physicist whose day job was a television showgirl, and I was a man who would not be shackled by the heavy constraints of unbachelorhood for more than a foolhearty weekend.
Darshan, it sounds like we have the same problem in our lives, except I don’t have a boyfriend and I want as many small Fatses running around as I can muster. To accomplish this, I’ve even opened up my own sperm bank, Fats’ Lovejuice Factorium. While the list of donors is highly confidential, let’s just say I can guarantee that you’re getting some damn good DNA if you visit, and your kid’s gonna have an awesome butt. There’s a one-hour free trial starting this week!
I will however put aside my personal proclivities to give you some aid. This one seems sort of obvious to me. Since your wording leads me to believe that he is naturally against the idea, then talking probably won’t help your situation. It’s not strong enough. When did words ever win an argument, really? Actions speak LOUDER than words. Start subtle. Carry around a pair of hedge-clippers at all times. Go to many ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and trim anything that has a tube whenever he’s in the area. If he fails to pick up your clues, go bigger. Any time he begins to speak of a want for children, or really even if he references anyone younger than 20, aim the snippers towards his never-you-mind region. If your subtlety is still over his head, begin snipping some of his less unessential parts in his sleep, like his appendix or capillaries. If he isn’t singing your tune by the end of the week, then you have chosen a very stubborn man whose biological resilience is astounding.
But let’s say you, for some reason, don’t want to jeopardize the life of your boyfriend by attempting surgery on him yourself. To each her own, I suppose. That doesn’t mean that you’re stuck being a fetustation forever. Talk up the positives of vasectomies. I think this is best illustrated in a panel of the online comic I wrote for a few years, Spermageddon:
I would like to apologize. Apparently, I could not locate the one accentuating the positives. Instead, I give you this strip from my I-Hate-Men week, which set a record on the site for most times forwarded to Facebook. However, it ends on a happy enough note, so you can just show him the bottom three panels. If that sort of happy ending doesn’t have him in the doctor’s office within hours, there’s something wrong with him.
I want to take a moment here to briefly mention that the Fats Dictionary 2011 Edition is now available at particular bookstores. In it, you can find words that have been featured in this issue, such as unbachelorhood, factorium, Fatses, never-you-mind region, fetustation and spermageddon. In addition, the 2011 edition includes new entries like plem, gormblast, hadrafastickle. Spoiler alert: one of those last three is an exciting and potentially lethal sexual move you absolutely need to try.
Finally, when all else fails, butter him up. Tell him that a single one of his sperm, any of them, would simply pulverize your ova, which is a mere thousand times bigger. Assure him that if your egg was a million times bigger than his relentless sperm, you would be all for it. But reinforce that your safety should come first. At some point he’ll do the math and realize your egg would need to be the size of a beach umbrella and he might protest. At that point, up the flattery. Tell him it’s not a preference that you don’t want his sperm in your body, explain that the walls are your cells could not possibly withstand the geyser-like force of his seed plowing through your body. Ask him if he truly wants a girlfriend with puncture wounds all over her cellular structure? Assuming he isn’t chummy with any molecular biologists, this should work. If not, tell him that your pH balance would go dangerously haywire with the acidity of his seed. No man would ever think to question a woman’s pH balance.
Looks like I’m going to have to cut this one short. I hope I’ve done my duty in making sure your line does not continue. Why, if everyone listened to my advice, there’d be no more sperm left anywhere in the world. Anywhere, that is, except Fats’ Lovejuice Factorium, at the corner of 19th and Beech, next to the pharmacy. Ask for my assistant Tendrils. Until next time, write me questions to ensure there is a next time.
Oh, and the cut short pun was totally intended.