Neutering My Husband

Tiffany is a wife to her best friend and a mother to two beautiful children, Bubs & Bubbette {Nope, those are NOT their real names.} When she’s not doing public relations for one of the top zoos in the country, she’s over-sharing at Mom-Nom.Com, the e-result of her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder diagnoses, after nearly losing Bubs in an accident in July, 2009. Now? She’s just trying to figure out where they go from here…one post at a time.

 

First there was the fiasco when my husband discovered that I have three holes.

Yet, surprisingly, I still was NOT prepared for this.

Let’s just say the Mister did NOT embrace the idea of the “Big V” as quickly as I would have liked. Clearly, it was a much easier decision for me. I mean, as I lay on the table butterflied open for the world to see, one would have thought it would have been an obvious “yes’m sir, please and thank you” when they asked if I was getting my tubes tied.

Not me. Nope.

When they asked, the first thing that popped into my little head?

“Fuck him. I’ve done this bullshit twice. His ass is getting neutered. It’s the least he can do.”

I’m every man’s dream. I know.

But all I could say, was no. I blamed it on the fact that I was dying to vomit. But really? If you don’t have anything nice to say…

Anyway, not too long ago, I made the official request. In the most professional way I know how.

Me: You need to make an appointment to get your dick clipped.

What? I’m graceful.

Mister: Huh?

Me: If you ever want to cum again. Your wings? They need to be clipped. I talked this shit over with my girlie bits and we’re all in agreement. We’re closed for business until the deed is done. I love you. Shut up.

He’s living the dream people.

Mister: Um, shouldn’t we talk about this?

Me: We just did.

And then I slithered out of the room….

So, you can imagine my surprise when several weeks later I walked into the family room, to find the man I married (read: luckiest man on earth) curled up on the couch with our (male) dog Jack. ::insert saddest man face ever::

Me: What’s wrong?

Mister: Nothing.

Me: I’ll only ask one more time. What’s wrong?

I know. You’re jealous of him. I swear I’m not always so bitchy. Just most of the time.

Mister: I’m just thinking about how weird it’s going to be.

Right about now I notice the dog flat on his bag, hind legs spread eagle and my husband starring at the space between his legs….

Me: Alright, what the hell are you talking about?

Mister: I mean, I’ve had these same two balls my entire life. It’s going to be weird not having them.

Me: WHAT. THE. FUCK. are you talking about? Are you drunk?

Mister: You know, when we do the vasectomy and they take my balls off, like Jack’s when he was neutered.

Me: You’re fucking kidding me, right? I’m not fucking neutering you. AND, your not a 12 week old puppy with pea sized nuggets. Please tell me your kidding.

Mister: You mean their not going to cut my balls off during the vasectomy??

Me: There is a damn computer sitting across the room from you – Google that shit. And please, for the love of all things holy, don’t talk about this with ANYONE.

Needless to say, I won’t be going to his consult with him next week. I can’t face the doctor when he asks if there are any questions.

Disclaimer: I’ve come to realize that, WOW, this man really, REALLY, loves me. He was willing to chop his nuggets off for me. We officially know that someone in our marriage does in fact love the other person more. I’ll let you decide who.