“Dad? Is that you?” I ask.

“I am an absolute disgrace! What is your major malfunction, numb nuts? You let a bunch of namby-pamby girls take you down. I ought to take a giant shit on you!” he mumbles to himself between coughs and dry heaves.

Yep, that’s my father-in-law. Leave it to him to quote Full Metal Jacket at a time like this. As soon as I can feel my face again and see out of my eyes, he’s going to explain this whole mess to me.

“1-2-3-4 I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!”

Well, maybe after the mace is gone from his system. I think it’s affecting him worse than it is us girls.

“SON OF A BITCH, LIZ! Will you let go of my hair? It was an accident,” Claire yells from behind me. “And I can hear you calling me a dumb f**k whore. I may be blind but I can still hear!”

“Then hear this, you dumb f**k whore! Sleep with one eye open. When I can see again, I will straight up shank you with a whittled down stiletto,” Liz threatens with her eyes squeezed shut as she crazily swings her arms around trying to reach Claire, who managed to escape from her clutches, drop to the ground, and crawl away.

Alright, so maybe everyone has ingested a bit too much mace.

Chapter 11 – Womb Hugging and Penis Loving

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

I wince at the sound of Jenny’s screech as she throws the cold, wet towel off of her eyes and glares at me.

I can’t help it. I laugh. She looks like she has hickies all around her eyes. They are puffy and red and right now it’s really hard to look right at her.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Shit.

I actually do feel really bad that she was maced. She looks like hell and I’m sure it doesn’t feel that great.

When I had got a phone call from some person named Doctor Madison telling me she received a text from my wife saying, “I pooped on the police and killed an ambulance. Bring handcuffs,” I was a little confused, albeit intrigued. Who was I to judge my wife’s kinkiness? I called Jenny right away and could only hear screaming and crying in the background and something about her eyes melting. When I got to the scene, my father was curled up in the fetal position in the parking lot where he crawled as far away from the girls as he could. He made me promise that I would keep Liz at least ten to twenty feet away from him at all times because she threatened to dig out his eyes with her belt buckle and he really thought she’d do it.

After getting my dad, Liz, and Claire home, I admitted to Jenny in the car about hiring my dad to follow her. I had figured it was safer that way. She wouldn’t kill me while she was half blind and I was driving. She had ignored me the rest of the way home.

Now we are here, and she is only a few feet away from a kitchen full of sharp objects.

“You’re telling me, you thought I was FAKING A WORK INJURY and you had your dad follow me? I thought I had some crazy stalker tailing me all day and he was going to induct me.”

Yep, full on laughing right now. There’s no hope for me. I’ve already accepted my fate of sleeping on the couch for the rest of eternity.

“Was this stalker going to induct you into the Stupid Crime Stoppers Hall of Fame?”

Jenny grabs the wet towel from the couch and re-covers her eyes, resting her head on the back of the couch.

“I can’t even look at you right now I’m so angry. Why in the hell would you think I was faking an injury and trying to cheat Claire out of money? And your father? Really? You actually hired your insane father to follow me around? Did you see what he was wearing? Full on camouflage, a hat with branches glued to the top of it, and leaves painted all over his face. That is not normal, Drew.”

Would now be a bad time to point out that all three women were dressed as slutty burglars?

I shrug even though she can’t see me. “What can I say, he really gets into his work. And he said to tell you he was sorry.”

She doesn’t say a word. She just keeps her head on the back of the couch and the towel over her eyes. I feel like I'm in the principal’s office, standing in front of her desk waiting for my punishment like that one time in high school when I put a little black skirt over the figure on the boy’s bathroom door in an attempt to get some hot chicks to walk in on guys pissing. Instead, the principal had walked in on a Freshman whacking off during fourth period. The principal had ignored me for an hour before she finally gave me my punishment. I don’t want to stand here for an hour. The kids are asleep and Tosh.0 is coming on soon.

“Um, are we done here?” I ask.

“Did you seriously just say that to me?!” Jenny screeches.

How is it possible for women to hit decibels with their voices that even dogs can’t hear?

“Yes, we’re done here. You can explain your stupidity to Doctor Madison tomorrow when we go for marriage counseling.”

I’m sorry, what?

~

“So, Drew, tell me why you think you’re here?”

I stare at the woman sitting across from us wearing a long flowing skirt, Birkenstocks, and yellow tinted glasses. The smell of incense is so strong in here I think I’m going to be sick, and the soft sounds of Simon and Garfunkel coming from her radio in the corner makes me want to take a nap.

“I have no idea what the hell I’m doing here aside from having a bad '60s flashback,” I mutter.

Jenny smacks my arm and I let out a big sigh.

“Oh it’s okay, Jenny. This is a room of honesty. Your husband is free to express whatever is in his heart and mind when he’s in this room without fear of judgment. I’ll make this a little easier on you since it’s your first time here. Jenny has explained to me over the phone that the two of you are having some communication issues. Is that correct?” she asks.

“Um, sure. I guess,” I say with a shrug.

I don’t know this woman, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell her the only communication problem my wife and I have right now is that her va**na doesn’t want to speak to my dick. Hippy chick here will look right at my penis and wonder what’s wrong with me. This stranger is going to think I have a third ball or my penis is shaped like a horseshoe.

“My penis is fine!” I shout.

Might as well put that out there before she gets any funny ideas. She doesn’t even bat an eye at my outburst, just folds her hand in her lap and smiles at me.

“You have a real connection with your penis, is that correct?”

Is this really happening right now?

“Um, well, it IS connected to my body, so yes. I’m sort of connected to it.”

She just smiles at me again and then points to my shirt. “I was referring to your shirt.”

I glance down and realize I’m wearing one that says: I puffy heart my penis. Let me show you why.

“I think I can sense what the root of the problem is here. You two just had a baby not that long ago. Sometimes it’s difficult for couples to connect again after something this life altering happens. What we need to do is get you two to connect.”

Okay, I take it back. This woman might be a genius. If she can get my wife to connect with me at the pelvis, I will buy myself a pair of Birkenstocks and sit under a black light with her, smoking pot.

“Jenny, I’d like you to do something for me. Turn your body on the couch so that you are facing your husband.”

Jenny does as she’s told, pulling her legs up onto the couch and sitting Indian style.

“Okay, now, Jenny, I want you to look down at your husband’s penis and tell it you love it.”

Jenny hesitates and looks at Dr. Madison questioningly.

Do not question the good doctor! Do as she says!

“It’s alright, Jenny. This will be good for both of you. Talk to the penis.”

Jenny slowly turns back to me and stares right down at my lap.

“Um, I love you.”

“Very good, Jenny! Now, I want you to apologize to the penis for taking it for granted,” Dr. Madison explains kindly.

I wonder if she’ll tell Jenny to suck the penis next. And if so, should I ask the good doctor to leave or stay?

“Uh, I’m sorry for taking you for granted,” Jenny says while still staring at my lap.

“Excellent! Okay, Drew, now it’s your turn,” Dr. Madison states.

I don’t even hesitate. “I love you penis! You are the best guy ever! No, seriously. You never let me down, you’re always up when I need you to be, and I apologize for some of those issues we had back in college that required antibiotics,” I say to my penis.

I look up at Dr. Madison, quite proud of myself for being such a team player with this whole therapy nonsense.

“That was very nice, Drew. But what I really wanted you to do was talk to Jenny’s vagina,” she explains.

Well alrighty then.

Figuring I might as well be comfortable for this, I curl up on the couch and rest my head on Jenny’s thigh. “I love you too, vagina. I miss you like a hooker misses her virginity. True story. Why have you done me wrong, Boo? Why is there such a distance between us? Remember when we used to hang out every day? Now I barely see you once a month. You’ve changed, vagina. I hate to say this, but you have. You’re a different person now, and it’s like I don’t even know you. I thought maybe you were hanging around with a different crowd of people and they influenced you against me. Maybe we’re just growing apart. I don’t want to lose you, vagina! I need you like I need air to breathe and football on Sundays. I just can’t quit you, vagina!”

I realize when I finish that the room is eerily quiet. I lift my head from Jenny’s leg and see both women staring at me with their mouth’s open. Okay, so I had cried a little. Sue me. This is emotional shit. This doctor is getting to the heart of all of our problems. My penis and Jenny’s vagina.

“Um, that was…uh, unexpected,” Dr. Madison states.

I sit up fully on the couch and grab a Kleenex from the side table and blow my nose.

“Wow, that felt really good,” I say, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck from side to side. “It feels like a weight has been lifted. My mind is clear and I feel so free. What should we do next?”

Dr. Madison looks down at the notepad in her lap and flips a few pages. “Well, I think you have made some great progress, Drew. We just need to get Jenny where you are. Jenny, when was the last time you hugged your womb?”

“Hugged my room? I don’t get it,” Jenny says, confused.

“No, your womb. The place where you gave life to your two children,” Dr. Madison explains.

“Uh, can I do that here? Shouldn’t that be done in a real doctor’s office with a table and stirrups? I don’t think I can reach it otherwise. Unless you have a mirror and maybe a flashlight.”

“If I can reach your G-spot in the middle of the woods with a tube of watermelon Bonne Belle Chap Stick while it’s raining and there is a homeless guy in a tent four feet away singing the Sesame Street theme song, then you can hug your womb,” I tell her encouragingly.

I probably shouldn’t have brought that up because now I’m distracted and can only think about the one time we went camping and got lost in the woods.

And now I have a hard on.

“Actually, I don’t mean you actually need to…um, reach up and touch your literal womb,” Dr. Madison explains.

“Why is she talking about littering? Is she saying my womb is dirty?” Jenny whispers to me.

“What I need you to do, Jenny, is just cradle your arms around your lower stomach area. Hold your womb in your arms and give it comfort. Let it know you care.”

Okay, now this chick is talking crazy.

“And while you’re at it, try soothing your ovaries and give them some encouragement to open themselves back up and accept the love that is given. I believe the problem here is that your womanhood has closed itself off and no longer recognizes love.”

Bat shit crazy. Talking to my penis and Jenny’s va**na is normal. This is one step away from taking all of our clothes off and dancing and chanting around a sacrificed pig.

My awesome wife does as she’s told though and wraps her arms around her waist. She gently rocks from side to side and begins talking to her “womanhood” like it’s Billy.

“Such good little ovaries. Yes you are!”

I want off this crazy train. Right the f**k now!

Watching my wife rock-a-bye her ovaries makes me wonder what she initially thought we would get out of this counseling session. I had thought it would be a bunch of arguing and pointing fingers about whose fault it is that we aren’t ha**g s*x anymore. Maybe she doesn’t think that’s the problem. Shit, maybe that isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s just my problem. She’s not faking a work injury, she’s not cheating on me…what the hell else could it be? A few years ago she cut me off from sex for a week because I gave her a Dutch Oven in bed one night. While hilarious, it’s never a good idea when your wife is na**d and getting ready to mount you.

There had been another time when I gave her a Wet Willy when she started coming. I hadn't meant for that to be hilarious. I read about it in Cosmo. When she had locked me out of the bedroom, I grabbed the magazine and realized two of the pages were stuck together - sex tips and practical jokes. Well played, Cosmo. Well played.

We leave the cuckoo doctor’s office with a promise to keep communicating with our reproductive organs. Unfortunately, I still have no f**king clue how that’s supposed to help get me laid.

Chapter 12 – Baby Bullets

Since cuddling our reproductive organs has done nothing to boost our sex life, there’s not much else for me to do except think back to a time when we were having sex. Man, those were the days. We had A LOT of sex. Like, a lot. Pretty sure it was impossible to even count that high. And fuck, was it good sex. Even when we were trying to get pregnant with Veronica it was good sex. You would think that since we pretty much used to have sex every single day, it would have been easy for us to get pregnant. I had always thought that shoving as much sperm up there as you could guaranteed you a baby.