The Sex Game

I have just spent the first half of my day at my daughter’s preschool. My three year old daughter invited me to be her special guest at the Valentine’s Special Person Tea Party. I originally thought it would be rather interesting if by “special” they meant retarded. No such luck. Not a Mongo in the room. And NO, this was not a Toddler’s version of the Republican grassroots political movement. This was primarily a collection of moms, overdressed grandmas and a couple of unenthusiastic dads peppered in. I was part of none of these teams. As always, there were an overabundance of various forms of sweets including cookies, fudge, cake, candy and fruit. There was also Pirate’s Booty. I still am waiting to find a toddler party that doesn’t include this staple item. There are things you just expect to see at these functions and Pirate’s Booty is one of them.

You can also expect to see moms. This is the point in the story where I share a little secret with you. The reason I didn’t put myself into the “dads suffering from ennui” category is because my mind is working overtime at these functions. On the outside what people see is Daddy, who cracks dry jokes and gives his daughter little kisses on her cheek while she sits on his lap. I am that person without doubt and my daughters lease more of my heart than the rest of the world combined. But…I wonder if any of these moms look at me the way I see them, which is that they all fucked someone to get to this exact point in their life that I am. The knowledge of this is enough to keep my dirty cabeza running various scenarios for hours. It’s kind of funny how private people are with their lives, but when you have children you share one of the most fundamentally closeted aspects of your life: You fuck or did fuck at least once.

At these type of events, my mind usually warms up with some light calisthenics by wondering the last time these mommies had sex. Was it a quickie in the shower while the kids were still asleep? Maybe it was two nights ago after she was a little tipsy from her second glass of wine at dinner. She’s usually too tired for nookie after taking care of the kids all day, but the imbibing had made her a wee bit randy.

Now that my mind has had adequate time to warm up, it moves on to the real exercise. I start to ask the tough questions, only in my head of course. How many of these woman have completely shaved pudendums? On a sidenote, I would suspect a lot. I haven’t seen a proper bush on a woman in a long time. Maybe it is nostalgia, but I kinda miss the late 70’s/early 80’s penthouse lack of shaved goods look.

Anyway, after I have surveyed the room and played the hair or no hair game, I move onto which of these moms I would like to be with in the biblical way. All of this is taking place between my ears while I carry on conversation and interact. It goes something like this:

Mind: I bet she has really nice nipples that are the color of diet coke?
Outside Me: “Sure I’ll help you grab a sandwich board from the dark attic.”
Mind: I wonder if she is thinking about having sex with me?
Outside Me: I missed a step and almost turned my ankle, “yeah, I’m okay. Just go for help if I can’t make it. Haha”
Mind: Am I limping? OMG, I have a half boner.

I wonder if I’m the only person who’s mind is occupied with thoughts like this when they go to a birthday party with their three year old daughter. I don’t care either way. It makes these events something that I can look forward to. I don’t want to forget to mention my mind showed some restraint at this party. It only played the sex game with one grandma in mind. I must say she was a fit little bird. I imagine she plays tennis in a retired citizens league on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

So the next time you see a pregnant woman walking down the room, don’t think that’s soooooo sweet. Realize that this woman has allowed some man to not only have sex with her, but also finish inside her. Happy Valentines Day.