who’s winning? The bears.

Sooooo, this weekend was Halloween, right? My one kid was a dinosaur and the other one was a chili pepper. They were both pretty cute and we did family oriented stuff like trick or treat and go to a Halloween party where there were a bunch of kids in costumes and kids movies and treats and shit like that. It was pretty sweet, overall. However, this weekend also marked my introduction to a new breed of person that I’ve heard whispers of, but never met before (at least not since I’ve been a grown up): The really, really creepy guy.

The really, really creepy guy was just kind of standing there having a cocktail when we arrived. He seemed normal enough at first. He and I and a friend of mine got some drinks while discussing the way that nowadays, with kids and everything, it’s really hard to know when to cut off your wife, booze wise if you still want to get laid. Here’s what I mean:

Every dude that’s been laid more than a few times has gone through the amazing experience of suddenly, after a long night of just casually boozing with your girlfriend or friend, found her at three in the morning with an insatiable craving for your wang. It’s surprising the first time you see this phenomenon unfold, mostly because it really comes out of nowhere, and just moments before seemed like you guys were both gonna just pass out or something.

But no, one brush of a hand on the thigh (or whatever) and you’re experiencing all sorts of unnatural, god-enraging pleasures of the flesh that you thought only happened to pizza guys and plumbers in Penthouse Forum. This awesomeness becomes the basis of a lot of behaviors, some acceptable, some terrible. I will enumerate a few of them here:
1) Offering to buy drinks for ladies that are attractive/in your league, even if you don’t really know them.
2) throwing caution to the wind and drinking to excess yourself when you find yourself in a sexually charged party atmosphere.
3) hitting on extremely drunk women
4) attempting to get women excessively drunk in hopes they’ll make bad decisions

and in some extreme cases
5) groping passed out chicks.

Now, obviously these go from 1) acceptable to 5) completely unacceptable, and my point is not that these are all natural behaviors or anything. They’re not. And 4) 5) and lots of times 3) are unequivocally shitty moves. My point is that the ideas for these “techniques” all spring forth from experiencing the garden of delights that a pretty drunk woman that already finds you attractive will provide for you if you happen to be in the right place at the right time. That’s all.

So, here you are, married and the law of averages will dictate that you’ve probably gotten pretty loaded with your wife and ended up having some pretty good times (that is, if you’re the kinds of people who drink, and/or if you’re the kinds of people that bang), and at first, it’s easy. You go out to the bar. You stay there a while. You come home wasted. You bang. You wake up the next day and the sheets are everywhere. BUT, then you have kids and the whole game changes a little.
Everyone’s tired. Especially her. She’s also gone through this nine month period where she didn’t drink at all (unless she’s totally awesome in her disregard for, uh…well, everything [please note that ‘awesome’ in this context means crazy]) and she’s (most likely) not currently sitting there drinking all night with the one specific goal of getting laid at the end of the night like you are.

I mean, fuck. You’ve already tortured her by pestering her to bang all day long AND she’s had to go through the horrors of childbirth as a result of your past pestering. No, to her, once you have kids, your dick will take on more of a ‘hot stove’ kind of position in her mind: something slightly fascinating every once in a while that will most certainly hurt and disfigure you if you touch it the wrong way.

Anyway, long story short: it used to be that you kept your old lady out as long as she wanted to stay out and that was it. Now, with kids, if you want to not have to carry her up the stairs and put her into bed, much less get laid, you know, while she’s awake, it’s your job to watch her and note the moment where she’s decided that she’s gonna speed up, because that’s the moment to get her out of there.

Once she says, “yeah, I’ll do a shot with you” to her one friend who’s never had kids and still does shots all night, it’s time to bolt. At that point, it’s not like she’s doing one big shot with a group and that’s all. She’s with her girls again, living like the days when 545 was a bedtime, not breakfast time, and mark my words, she’s gonna be passed out faster than you can say “hey sweetie, want to watch some nice, non threatening erotica geared towards women?” or even “uh, can you call me a taxi”. You get the idea: what was once an ‘end of the night’ thing, now has to be carefully monitored. And your wife ain’t monitoring it.

So that’s what we were talking about, me, my buddy and the Really, Really Creepy Guy. That’s when really really creepy guy started complimenting me on how cute my kids were. Now, my kids are actually super cute (some kids are not, some kids are. I’m not trying to be a braggy dad or suggesting that they’re gonna grow up to be gorgeous or anything, as cute kids often don’t grow up to be cute adults) so I didn’t really think much of it. People are often pretty taken with our kids, and when they’re dressed up as peppers and dinosaurs, well, shit, folks. It’s pretty outrageous. So, again: whatever. This dude is having what I perceive to be a normal reaction to cute kids.
Buuuuuut, then he takes out his camera and asks me if he can take a picture of my daughter. “Uh, sure.” Whatever. He’s got a kid there. My kid’s in a costume. He’s just documenting the cute little party that he brought his own daughter to, right? Uh, well…he took like five or six pictures of her. Just her. And the whole time he’s just saying things like “oh my god. She’s so incredibly beautiful” and shit like that. She’s five months old, mind you. She doesn’t really do much. I’m her DAD and I can hardly find a reason to snap five consecutive pictures of her while she’s sitting still.

Slightly odd, no?

Anyway, I bail to just kind of reset the evening a little bit and hang out with some friends and generally mingle and when I next see this guy, he’s still in the kitchen with my wife and my kids, still talking about how cute they are and asking them for kisses and shit. Now, I guess I can dig kissing a baby on the head if you’re already holding ‘em or whatever, but what the fuck is this dude doing asking my two and a half year old for a kiss? And on the lips? It was fucking. Weird.

Well, my kid sensed it was pretty weird too and he ran over to me and gave me a hug and a kiss and hid behind me at which point the guy says “oh, so it’s not that he doesn’t like kisses” all broken hearted like, which was pretty much the weirdest possible thing he could have said at that point short of uh…”Hey, I’m actually the living spirit of Chaing Hai Shek and I’d like to take you all to a new, clean planet on my mind-spaceship if you’d all just like to join me in the darkened basement for a meditation session. We’ll start a whole new civilization free from these filthy hordes. Take this pill and meet me downstairs.”

Nah, that’s still less weird. Anyway, we gathered our kids and left. Really creepy guy decided to stay when his wife and daughter went home. I have no idea what he got up to but uh…I dunno. This is grossing me out just typing about it. I think I should go take one of those fetal position showers now.
Kay. Bye.

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