Gender Reveal Parties and Erectile Dysfunction

Do you ever just sit in a chair and wonder what the hell you’re doing with your life? How about a bagel? Do you ever just sit on a bagel and wonder what the hell you’re doing with your life? Oooh, you know what? A hammock sounds nice. I wish I had a hammock. A hammock with pictures of small hams printed all over it. The hammiest hammock in the world. I could get nice and hammered and rub my hamstring in my hammy hammock. Yeah… that’s clean living right there.

I wonder what it would look like if Chef Boyardee and Ann Coulter had a child together… Do you think they’d have a gender reveal party? By the way, those are ridiculous. Not Chef Boyardee-Ann Coulter hypothetical babies (those are totally normal), but gender reveal parties. Why is this a thing? I’m totally stealing this subject from someone else who was writing about it earlier, but it’s fine. Everything’s fine. The people need a deeper dive into the sheer insanity that is a gender reveal party.

You’re telling me… you’re telling me you’re going to have a party… a party… where you explode some kind of object like a cupcake or something and when blue or pink dust flies into the air, everyone is going to yell “wooooo!” like they’re shocked this is happening? “Oh my god it’s a girl!” Yeah, it’s a girl. There were only two options, you can’t tell me either one deserves an audible scream when the result presents itself. That’s like if you flipped a coin and it landed on heads and you went, “HOLY FUCK IT’S ON HEADS!!!” and then you started a forest fire.

Speaking of forest fires, I saw blue sky today. The whole sky… was blue. I was erect. I was erect because the sky was blue. Mentally erect. That would be pretty funny if I actually did get hard simply because the sky was blue. Like if that was my thing. Could you imagine? I’m getting intimate with a lovely lady in the bedroom, unable to get the old wanker tanker rolling and she asks, “what’s wrong? Are you not attracted to me?” and I say “No no no! You’re beautiful, I promise it’s not you!” And then I say “just hold on a second, I know what to do,” and then I run outside and just stare at the clear blue sky for five seconds, run back in stiff as a piece of plywood in a freezer factory, get back into the bedroom and… she’s gone, because that’s insane. That’s all completely and utterly insane.

Erectile dysfunction. Good stuff. Sometimes it happens to me, I’ll admit it. I get really bad performance anxiety from time to time and my less-than-stiff shlong is like “not today, buddy. Not today.” It’s probably the most emasculating thing a man can go through, and it’s happened to all of us. And absolutely nobody cares. That can be tough. You’re not alone soft penis friends, you’re not alone. And if you’re a woman and your guy is ever having trouble getting hard, please for the love of God do not make it about you. Don’t say “you’re not attracted to me are you?” and especially do not get upset or offended. I understand the reaction, but if a guy is trying to have sex with you, I promise that the reason his penis is not working is not because he doesn’t want to have sex with you. Something to ease the tension is much more helpful. A simple, “it’s okay,” or “there’s no hurry, we don’t have to do this right now,” will go a long way. Ha. Get it. A long way. Nice. That dick’s gonna be hard in no time.

Sex is interesting. It’s a lot easier for some people than others. Personally, I find it very difficult to have sex with someone I don’t trust. Other people can just meet someone, share a whiskey, have a sweet sweet orgasm together and then act like nothing ever happened. I don’t think either is better or worse than the other, you just gotta do you. Wait. No. You have to do somebody else. That’s how sex works.

There’s weird societal pressures around sex for men and women, too. And they’re totally different. For men, there’s a constant pressure to have sex. “Did you get laid bro?” “You tap that ass or what?” The pressure isn’t always that douchy, but it is a constant presence. There’s always this force in the back of your head that tells you every time you stick your pecker in a poke hole you’re just a little bit cooler, a little bit more accomplished. And yes, women, I am reducing your entire existence to being a “poke hole.” Men are simply peckers, and women are simply poke holes. This is fact, and this is how the genders should be referred to from now on.

I’m being sarcastic of course. I don’t know why I just wrote that… Of course I’m being sarcastic, I don’t think that needed clarification. Whatever. The point is, there’s always pressure on us men to “get laid.” It makes sense from a biological primal perspective. If we cut it down to the basics and say that the point of life is to create more life and those with the highest status in the community are the ones who can inseminate the most females, the phrase “did you get laid bro?” makes a lot more sense.

I’m sure I just lost a bunch of people there. Semen! Okay we’re back. Anyways, this “pressure” for men to have sex doesn’t seem to be necessarily “societal,” and is probably more primal. This kind of goes back to what I was talking about the other day where we think we have more control than we actually do. We also think we understand more than we actually do. But behind all of our actions lies this force of nature that is constantly reminding us, “make more of you. Make more of you. Make more of you. No. Don’t go to Taco Bell. Go make more of you.” Thank you for listening to this week’s episode of “What It’s Like to Be a Guy!”

I can’t say what it’s like to be a woman, but I can observe that it is not the same as being a guy. Women aren’t telling other women, “find every guy you can and have his child. Have all of their children. All at the same time. Babies! Babies everywhere!” The pressure that women face is geared much more towards shame around sex. In the same way that it’s damaging for a guy’s reputation among men if he’s a virgin, it can be damaging for a woman’s reputation if she’s being “promiscuous.” There’s nothing wrong with either, but again, the force is at play. Women know that if word gets out they had sex with both Jim AND John, they will be at risk of being called a slut and will likely be shamed by other women, and even men. I wonder if we will ever get past this, or if the primal force is too great to overcome and these kinds of pressures will never cease. Who knows. Who knows anything anymore. Do you know… the muffin man?

Jason Brendel
Jason Brendel

Jason Brendel is an author, poet, and comedian living in Austin, Texas. Navigate the buttons below to follow him on social media, make a donation, or purchase his collection of laugh-out-loud poetry on Amazon.

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