Battle of the Sexes
One of the first questions I get asked when I reveal that my wife is pregnant is “What sex is the baby?” I guess back in the day, medical technology wasn’t that advanced, and we didn’t know if it was going to be junior or little princess until it actually came out. However in the current day we can actually find this out while the kid is still kicking in the womb. I thought that the gender determination process would be something more…I dunno…scientific? Like maybe they would pull out one of those Star Trek tricorders and scan for the X chromosome (hey Apple, if you’re listening, this would be the perfect iPhone/Pod/Pad app…), or the presence of some hormone in mom’s body would tip them off. But really, all it is is looking at the ultrasound for a penis. No seriously, they just take a look and say “Well, there’s a penis, so it’s a boy!” or “Hey, I can’t see a penis, so its a girl!”
The pinnacle of modern medical science, I guess.
Despite this technology, I’ve heard that many couples choose to not know the sex of the baby, saving it as a surprise for birth. While I can understand this sentiment to some degree, I felt that knowing the sex would be helpful for planning purposes and what not. I also figured that childbirth, in itself, was surprising enough as is.
Doctor: Congratulations Mr. Az, it’s a baby boy!
Me: Oh wow…9 months ago I skeeted in my wife, and now out of that exact same hole a living breathing human being made from my DNA has emerged…and its a boy! …But I already knew that from the ultrasound scan, so meh. Say, who’s up for some Starbucks?
However, it takes a few months before your doctor can play Find a Penis, as I guess that particular part isn’t one of the first things to develop. Even if the penis gestation period has passed, if the baby is situated in a way so that you can’t see between their legs this can still keep prospective parents in the dark. I’ve found that in this interval of not knowing the sex of the baby, the next most common question is “Which would you prefer?”
Up until recently, I would have said female, easily. I could be the doting dad, always looking out for my little princess and ready to protect her from harm. And if any awkward body issues came up…then I could just defer to mom.
Her: Daddy, some girls were being mean to me at school today…
Me: Really? I’ll go to school with you tomorrow; you point them out, and I’ll say very loudly in their direction how I don’t tolerate anyone messing with my little princess.
Her: Thanks Daddy. Oh, and I have some biology homework due tomorrow, can you help me out with that?
Me: Sure honey, feel free to ask me anything.
Her: Speaking of that, lately I’ve started bleeding from my crotch-
Me: Take that one up with your mother.
Then of course, there’s my Get Rich Quick scheme of producing an adorable, marketable kid, becoming their manager, taking a modest 35% of their income and retiring at 45. I consider Beyonce’s Dad to be the modern day Sun Tsu of strategical masterminds. Sun Tsu himself probably would have given up war and just marketed out his daughters if his genes had somehow produced Beyonce. Everyone knows girls work better for this than boys – not to say that it doesn’t work for boys at all (see: crazed rabid fangirls), but its just easier for girls.
But lately, I’ve begun to see the merits of having a son. Y’know, the usual stuff of playing sports together with him…playing catch or shooting some hoops. I also want to impart to him my awesome hobbies. I want to teach him how to become a Street Fighter champion, and instill in him my undying love of The Transformers. Both I would hope to get an early start on – joystick practice would start a few weeks after he learns how to walk, and instead of Sesame Street, classic Transformers G1 episodes would play in our home. “Hey son…you want to watch Dora the Explorer? What the eff? Sorry, daddy’s watching the TV now. What am I watching? Oh, just this little show called The Transformers. The Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons. Here, why don’t you join me…”
This is all easier to do with a boy. Not that I can’t do it with a girl mind you – sports, Street Fighter, Transformers, it’s all possible of course. But then I run the risk of turning her into a butch lesbian. Not that I have anything personal against butch lesbians. I’m sure they’re a wonderful people. Just, butch lesbians are like grapefruits – they exist, but they have little to offer me. And vice versa!
Okay, let’s say she doesn’t become a butch lesbian. She’s average, cute, hot even. But now I’ve just created a hot nerd girl. Well, what’s wrong with that, you ask? In a few years, she could even go on to replace Olivia Munn or Jessica Chobot! …And I think you just answered your own question. Allow me to elaborate.
In college, I knew a girl who was into classic video games, and liked comic books and what not. I went to her room once, and she had towers of old NES games piled up, X-Men posters on her wall, random comic books on the floor, and maybe even some GI Joes lying around. Without telling you anything about what this woman looked like, I’m sure a good percentage of the male reading audience just popped boners. The catch is that without all the game/comic geekyness, she was plenty hot on her own. When I first enrolled in the class, as all men do I did a quick survey of the women in the room*, and she was by far and away the number one. And then I found out about the geekiness.
Imagine you just won the Powerball Lottery, and as you go to pick up the check, you bump into Hugh Hefner who is like “Say, I’m kinda tired of the Playboy Mansion…I can’t keep having sex with hundreds of beautiful women day in and day out. You want it? Careful though, I just brought in a new batch of Playmates and this group is especially rowdy.” Yeah, it was a little like that.
I would have killed a person just for a shot with her.** Like, actually killed a man with my bare hands if that’s what it took. And while this is perfectly okay for a single guy, I’m not a single guy anymore. I’m a married man – no – I’m a father to be, and imagine my daughter is this hot nerd girl that men would gladly battle each other to the death for. Like fathers don’t already have enough to worry about defending their daughters from the perverted thoughts of men…but a hot nerd girl? I should just start buying guns now.
*Yes girls, we men do survey all the women in any new environment (school, work, etc) and rank them. Of course we do. And don’t bother asking your boyfriends/husbands if we do, because he will deny it. Especially if you met him through school/work, and you weren’t numero uno.
**But Az, you may say – sounds like you were in this girl’s room. Yes, I was. She was even in my room a few times. You didn’t hit that? Sigh, no. I don’t want to talk about it. This was the fail that was my life up until the final year of college. Even if I did run through the Playboy Mansion I wouldn’t be able to get this monkey off my back, ever.
So, if you happen to know a gun shop that sells heavy arterilly for cheap, recommend me, because the newest addition to the Az Family is gonna be a girl. And I don’t think I can resist the urge to teach my offspring about All Things Awesome in the universe, like Transformers and Street Fighter. The combination of black and Japanese genes will probably make her pretty hot. A pretty hot mixed nerd girl. And for all you guys who just thought about the potential of what she may become 18 years from now, just know that the first gun I buy will be a rocket launcher.