“HELLO!” I shout. “Man with a problem here. Can we get back to something important please?”
“Sorry, but I do believe discussing Carter’s sexual orientation is important,” Jim says as Carter reaches over and punches him in the arm.
“Okay, back to the original question. How long has it been?” Carter asks. “And I’m not talking about the ‘just the tip’ night after Billy was born. I’m talking full contact, all the way home, screaming for your mommy sex.”
“If I recall correctly, the screaming for your mommy sex is only had by you, Carter,” Jim says with a laugh.
“Fuck off! I did NOT scream for my mommy. I was trying to propose to Claire,” he argues.
“Twelve months, thirteen days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes,” I tell them, glancing across the room at the clock hanging on the wall. “Sorry, thirty-five minutes.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jim mutters with a look of horror on his face.
“You know that off the top of your head?” Carter asks.
“You two assholes try NOT having sex with your wives and get back to me on whether or not you keep track,” I complain.
“Have you tried talking to her about it, like I suggested?” Carter questions with a smug look on his face.
“Yes, I have, so shut the fuck up.”
The loud speaker breaks into our conversation and informs us we have five minutes left before the production line will start back up. We all stand and gather up the remnants of our lunches from the table and head across the cafeteria to the doors that lead out to the plant.
“Did you talk to her like you normally talk to her or did you try doing it without being a douche?” Jim asks as he tosses his garbage into the can.
“Shut up. I’m not a douche when it comes to my wife,” I argue.
“Really? Because I recall you asking the Elvis impersonator at your Vegas wedding if he could add a line to Jenny’s vows that said, ‘I promise to always give blow jobs with a smile on my face and love in my heart,’” Jim reminds me.
“What? That’s a legitimate wedding vow that should be a part of everyone’s wedding ceremony,” I argue. “Do you want a wife who gives blow jobs with a frowny face?”
We make our way across the plant to our spot on the production line, and Jim follows us even though he is supposed to be on the other side of the plant at a foreman meeting.
“Okay, you have a few options. One, you can actually sit down with Jenny and straight up ask her why she never wants to have sex with you anymore. And by talk, I mean ask her in a loving, nice way if something is bothering her. Always ask about her well-being first. If you make this all about you and your neglected Johnson, you’ll get nowhere. You have to make her feel like you care,” Jim explains.
“But I do care. I care about how she’s doing and how she’s feeling.”
“Yeah, okay. But I’m pretty sure at this point, you care more about how she’s feeling about your penis,” Jim says.
“True story,” I agree sadly.
“So, do not use the words: bang, anal, blow job, just the tip, or it makes him smile when you kiss it,” Jim tells me.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say then? Those are all the good ones,” I complain.
“Yes, all the good ones you used when you conned her into having sex with you six weeks after Billy was born. I do believe she took 'just the tip' literally and you told her, 'If your vagina is sore after having Billy chew his way out, I’d be fine with anal,'” Carter adds.
“I still don’t see what was wrong with that. I was trying to be nice and make her feel better.”
After not having sex her entire pregnancy and then having to wait another six weeks for her floppy bits to fuse back together, I had been desperate. Telling her about all the nightmares I was having of seeing Billy crowning during the delivery probably wasn’t my finest hour. But she cornered me in the middle of the night when I woke up screaming from another bad dream. I had been half asleep and could not be held responsible for the things I said. I knew comparing the birth of our son to the movie Alien when that little monster tears his way out of that dude’s stomach was a bad idea, but I wasn’t fully awake yet! Picture the blood, the gore, the slime, and the goo as this little freaky thing rips someone’s stomach open to get out. Now picture that happening with your wife’s vagina. The vagina you’ve touched, sucked, licked, and worshiped for years. It took a little time to separate the two.