Neutered

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The term "vasectomy" seems to strike fear and loathing in most men according to the people who waste their lives doing research on such trivial non-events. That's because their individuality depends on a primitive physical feature of their lives. I filter for hints of individuation, so it ain't like I am is some certified expert on the topic. I am is an expert because I did take a vasectomy operation.

If you're a man, and you haven't been neutered, then your vote don't count with the people who have. Worse, it doesn't even matter because you've chosen to have no other purpose than to breed as many children from as many different women as you can as your personal identity and only reason for being alive. You may not know that because you're inside the box you can't objectify. No blame.

When I posed the question, "How many men get vasectomies?" to Google, I saw the number of 600,000 a year and rising in the headers of the Results page. It interested me that I was in about the same situation as most of the men who get the procedure done. Middle-aged men who already have as many or more mouths than they can provide for.

I don't remember the exact date of anything to do with my deciding to have a vasectomy done. I wuz drunk. My ex-wife was drunk. She was sitting a the dining room table of the house the party was being held at. She sat there playing truth or dare with a group of other disillusioned single mothers, and they were doing shooters of Tequila as the penalty of not taking the dare.

It turned out that my ex-wife was in a serious denial mode during the first part of the game, and as punishment she was drinking straight shots of tequila for an hour or so. Apparently she began accepting the dares and telling her version of the truth.

She didn't want any more children because those women had convinced her it was the third child that always ruined a woman's figure. It was a rational decision if you think you might wanna attract men other than yo' devoted husband. Not so great a decision if you're happy with the status quo. They decided she needed to get her tubes tied right then and there.

I was sorta drunk, but mostly stoned on pot when the instigator gave the appearance of having drifted into my mindless gaze and performed a little hoochy-koochy for my amusement, and then stooped down in front of me and braced herself on my knees only to inform me that she had something serious to ask me.

She said that she and the girls had been talking about babies and how to know when they've had as many as they wanted. She told me my wife wanted to get her tubes tied because she didn't want any more of my babies. I pretended to be cool with this proposal and sent her away to think about the implications.

The first thing that popped into my Scorpio-rising mind was this was this bitch's way of saying she wanted out of our marriage. I'd been suspicious for a while because when she got unhappy she always found the same type of new best friend to whip her into doing what she couldn't do alone. The jig was up.

As a parting gesture to get her to change her mind I told her that if she was determined to go through with getting her tubes tied, then I would get a vasectomy to stop having children with other women, and we'd be mud together.

"If you were dust
by the side of the road
in warm and sultry weather,
I'd be a cloud and rain for you,
and we'd be mud together.

~ Author Known, but soon forgotten.

She went with me to the urologist who proposed to perform the procedure, answered his questions and indicated she understood the consequences of the operation, and then signed a paper as witness that I was requesting that it be done.

The procedure itself was done in the doctor's office and didn't take more than twenty minutes. We talked about being in San Francisco at the same time he was snipping and suturing away. He showed me the little tube of flesh as he snipped each side into, folded it back on both sides of the cut, and sutured up my child bearing career forever.

After it was done I didn't know what to think about it. I figured it didn't matter because the deed was indeed done, and practically undo-able. The probability of me attempting to reverse the procedure was zero. I would never be able to afford such an operation unless having the operation done made me more ambitious.

The one result I wasn't prepared for was the result I was looking for. It made me realize that my sex-crazed years were all about getting women pregnant no matter what I told myself I was jumping through their hoops for. When the vasectomy caused impregnating a woman to be impossible, then I didn't need to jump through their hoops anymore. That suits me just fine.

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