Marital sex is bad for you

August 13, 2010

via Big Fish Mag Feed on 8/10/10

We need an organization for defending us from the evil that is ‘marital sex’. Pre marital sex is amazing! It’s like a war survival manual because it teaches you ‘going in with protection’. If you don’t go in protected it teaches you ‘not leaving your traces in enemy territory’ via ‘timely retreating a.k.a. pulling out’. After all those years of practice to get the timing perfected, you get married. Once that happens you stop being vigilant which is why marital sex mostly ends up with pregnancy. Strangely, no one has a problem with it.

In fact your parents want your wife to be pregnant. They are always hounding you with, “when are you giving us the good news?” Leave me alone already! My woman being pregnant can’t be considered as good news! You must be wondering, ‘Hey Leo, why do my parents want my wife to get pregnant?’ Vengence! Pure sweet vengeance that was plotted secretly behind for back for years. You were a trauma inducing child who troubled your parents, stayed out late, back answered and wore your jeans too low since it was a trend. Their plan was waiting patiently for you to get married and have a kid. The good news they are waiting for is, you having to deal with the same shit that you gave them. Congratulations, you are fucked!

Contrary to popular belief, having a child is the worst mistake ever. You’ve to be with deal a woman who has grown twice her size and yet expects you to answer the question, ‘Am I fat?’ in the negative. There’s morning sickness. Also, she’s constantly on the edge, you say something wrong and she’ll probably bite your testicles off in rage. Obviously you don’t want your precious testicles bitten off, because of rage or any other feeling, so you shut up and wear a jockstrap to be on the safer side. It’s too late but you still wonder if you could have prevented this gestation with masturbation.She turns into a total attention whore. Look at me, get me nourishing food, take me to the hospital I’ve got labor pains, etc. Jesus, she won’t do anything on her own! She won’t lift a finger. If she won't do any work because she's pregnant it's double standards to demand work from your pot-bellied ass.

If dealing with that shit is not enough, you’ve this constant fear at the back of your head – will this child be born normal? Will he have like 7 hands and 3 eyes? Will be able to comprehend the fact that ‘light can be both a particle as well as a wave’? Will he like or hate something depending on popular opinion? Will he suck up to others from fear of being ostracized for having his own opinions? You wait and pray and all this while the tiny minion of Satan hasn’t come out yet. Your parents are laughing with sadistic delight at the fact that you’re now a nervous wreck and you’re losing hair. Yes, 99% of married men get bald by the beginning of the third trimester.

Then, comes child-birth. Remember when you put your thing in there? Remember how she screamed? Well, now there’s an infant who’s going to come out of it. Oh boy! She’s going to yell. And you’ve to be there. There is nothing worse than being in a room with a crying female and you HAVE to be there. You HAVE to hold her hand. Chuck the hand, grab her tits instead. If she’s going to be screaming and crying and bring babies into the world, you better have some entertainment of your own. It’s her fault that you are not at home being comfortable and relaxed. Finally, the baby pops out. By pops out I mean, slowly crawls his way out from the uterus via the birth canal and the first thing that he does is cry. You wonder why the fuck is he crying for? The last time you came out of that hole you were satisfied, smiling and were trying to avoid conversation. You take the baby home.

Now you have this human like thing which is about one sixth of your size. You need to keep it in a proper place so that you don’t step on it or accidentally break it. The stupid thing won’t eat normal human food and can’t use a knife or a fork. You’ve to feed it and it doesn’t want to eat. You think fuck it, it doesn’t want to eat, it’s not my fault but then it cries because it’s hungry and you’re mind-fucked and stalemated. You’ve something that’s hungry but doesn’t want to eat. You’re stumped. You try to bang your head against the wall so that you can bleed to death but the wailing won’t stop. You try to feed it again, the tiny thing finally relents and eats. You don’t know why there’s a change of heart but frankly you don’t care.

The misery doesn’t end there. It sleeps during the day and it stays awake at night when it decides to cry. You think it is going to work for an international BPO. You think crying is it’s favorite pastime. You stay awake day and night because of it. You think you’re wife has given birth to a vampire. You check your wife’s neck for teeth marks. You proceed to lose your other body hair as well, you’re just a mass of flesh, bones and internal organs with no sleep and very little hair.

Years pass and it grows up. Now you’ve a tiny thing that runs around the house naked, leaves body fluids all over the place and demands your attention. It has started talking and it just doesn’t stop. Then comes the school age when you realize that you’ve this tiny human that can’t remember 26 alphabets and 10 digits correctly. 36 symbols! How hard is that? You lose faith and burn those George Orwell novels and other books that you had saved for your child.

Further into school you realize that the dumbass doesn’t know that the Titanic sank in 1912, that the world is round, the largest internal organ is the liver, and other general known fact. You want to take the dumbass out of school and employ him in bidi making factory. At least he’ll earn something. Years, later after you’ve spend money and effort in getting the stupid prick educated, he thinks that he’s smarter than you. You realize that he’s right; if you were smart you wouldn’t have him. You wait for him to have a child. The cycle continues.


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