Quest for the Holy Vasectomy
Flashback to high school. Picture an entire freshman health class staring toward the front of the room, drool rolling down every single face. The room smells like a mixture of sweat and apathy, which together have an odor exactly like week-old cheese. The “substitute” teacher approaches the whiteboard, marker in clawed hand. (By “substitute,” I mean the person the real teacher hired because he was too uncomfortable talking about the subject, and by that I mean lazy). In large, unrefined print not unlike that of a chimpanzee trained to hold a dry-erase, she prints a single phrase on the board.
“SEX MAKES BABIES.”
And as if that is the end of the issue, she places both hands on her hips and stares back at the little heathens seated before her. Of course, two of the girls wind up pregnant a month later, but of course the dirt poor sex-ed program wasn't to blame.
(We also found out that the “substitute” worked nights as a receptionist for a local church-sponsored abortion protest group, but of course that has nothing to do with the issue of sex education).
The disgusting part about it all is the truth behind her statement. Oh, sure, out of the fifteen or so different things technically considered sex, only one makes babies. But this doesn’t help a guy who would rather eat his own leg than spend two minutes around a screaming poopzombie.
Back to the present. Now that I’m all grown up, I figured the sensible thing was to get a vasectomy. For those who don’t know, this is a quick and painless operation where the sperm tubes get snipped, tied, and cauterized shut. It’s a child-hater’s wet dream - literally. If performed properly, you have a better chance of winning the lottery and then immediately getting hit by a falling satellite than getting somebody pregnant.
On paper, it seemed easy enough. Hand them five hundred bucks, wait a month, and get snipped on your lunch break. Little did I know that my quest for a vasectomy would be more difficult than a game of Marco Polo with grenade launchers.
I initially brought the idea up to my social psychology class. You know, in college. The topic for the day was “conformity,” and the professor challenged the class to name one way they were truly different from the herd. I knew I had a good one.
“I hate kids,” I piped up. “I never want to reproduce. It's just not for me. I‘m getting a vasectomy.”
In an instant, every single head in that room was staring directly into my soul. Mouths hung limp as silence filled the air. They couldn’t believe it. Finally, the professor smiled. “A nonconformist.”
But that good feeling didn’t last long. I was immediately attacked from all sides by rabid sheep. I felt like a house in the middle of a tornado. A chipmunk in the middle of a mine field.
Vacant-Looking Guy: “You’ll change your mind when you’re older.”
Me: “This is one of the beliefs that defines me as a human being. That's like the pope changing his mind about Jesus.”
Girl with Hollister Shirt: “How could you be so selfish?! What if your wife wants kids?”
Me: “Then we wouldn’t be married in the first place.”
Or, my favorite…
Girl in Plaid: “Men are useless without the ability to reproduce. Why don’t you just go get a sex change? Just put on a freaking dress!”
I wish I was kidding about the last one. There was not a single trace of humor in this girl’s voice as she said this. To be honest, it was a little scary. I had the feeling that she wanted to do the operation herself.
For a room filled with people of intelligence levels supposedly much higher than the norm, the level of narrow-mindedness was pretty unsettling. But I just blamed it on the area. A certain religion is very prominent where I go to school, and a part of this belief-that-shall-not-be-named is the encouragement to “repopulate the earth.” I thought I‘d check on Yahoo Answers to get a more impartial view.
I made an account, answered a few questions (and even got picked as the best answer for one - oh happy day!), and finally asked my own:
“I am a college age guy looking for a vasectomy. I hate children, and I will never have the desire to reproduce, ever. I could not be more sure of anything in the entire world. What kind of process should I go through to find a reputable doctor in my area?” Big surprise, I got the very same responses.
“You are a selfish loser. Think of somebody else for a change, you stupid jerk!” I frequently donate my money to the Humane Society. There are very few people out there that think more of underprivileged puppies than me.
“You’ll change your mind when you get older.” Apparently I wasn’t clear enough on how sure I was. Or, more likely, this person definitely knows me better than I do. Happens all the time.
“No doctor in their right mind will perform that operation on somebody your age.” Now this was what really bothered me. I had done my research - the age limit was eighteen; I was fine. I had the money, I was in good health. But 99% of the reactions I received online and in class definitely showed personal biases toward having kids. If that was a part of being human, it made sense that many doctors, at least the human ones, would feel the same way.
So, a week later, I go on to respond, and find that Yahoo deleted my question, my account, and every single other question I had ever posted in. I mean the entire questions, not just my posts. It was like two men in white suits threw me into the trunk of a car, pushed it into a lake, and then erased every record of my existence. I couldn’t understand it. Clearly, I upset a lot of people with my question, but I didn’t do anything that violated their terms. From what I’ve heard, that kind of reaction usually happens when people ask where to buy the best cocaine in the area. They just didn’t like my beliefs. Apparently, somebody at Yahoo was a baby-hater-hater, because according to them I never existed.
I was inspired to find a doctor, but also terrified. I just knew that personal biases would get in the way of me wanting my bomb disarmed. I started contacting everybody in the area; calls, emails, and smoke signals. But I never received a single response. I can just imagine them seeing my age and hitting the delete button.
I don't get it. If a 48 year old man with a heart condition and two kids can have a vasectomy, why can’t I? I have no obligation to “repopulate the earth.” Am I selfish? Sure. Is that so bad? If anything, they should see it as a good thing that I know I don’t want kids at this age. You can’t give em back once they’re walking around (at least not legally). Why not prevent a horrible father from ever becoming a father in the first place?
So here I am, walking around with a loaded gun between my legs. I am left with two options. The first is to grow a beard, dress like a hobo, and go to the local clinic, located between Jimmy’s crackhouse and a KFC. I hand them a dirty wad of bills, they cut me, and I probably get tetanus a week later. The second is to just do the operation myself, which would probably be a lot safer. And I wouldn’t have to put up with the smell of chicken grease.
Well, that settles it. I wonder if Amazon sells surgical instruments?

Antonio Troy wants your mail. Even hate mail. thebabyhater@gmail.com. |