The running joke among me and my friends over here on the east coast waiting out Hurricane Sandy: one of us will be pacing around with an EPT test come December or January. (Alas, it won’t be me, since immaculate conceptions seem to be pretty few and far between.) Indeed, this is perfecto baby-making weather: it’s messy and gray on the streets, but comfy and cozy in the house.
There’s food in the fridge, heat piping through the vents, and there’s really nowhere to go and, more importantly, no way to get there, since most areas have either shut down public transportation, declared a state of emergency, or threatened would-be drivers from taking to the roadways. It’s a setup for a baby boom. But as the blustering ramps up outside, make sure you’re just as careful inside.
Avoid romantic comedies, schmaltzy Lifetime movies, and anything evoking any kind of sentimentality. All it takes is one mushy moment to turn perfectly innocent cuddle time on the couch into a hot and heavy make-out session and, as many of us now know, only one appearance of Mr. Johnson to make an unplanned pregnancy.
Do not play Twister and, whatever you do, don’t even think about play wrestling. Confined spaces and too much time together make even innocent athletic challenges like slap boxing and wing-eating contests fuel for the hormonal fire. A little trash talking can turn the tide very quickly.
Drink Sprite, juice, coconut water—anything but alcohol. I don’t drink myself, but I’ve seen the effects that the wine and spirits have on other folks. I suspect the liquors and beers of the world have already had much to do with many conceptions, so methinks we need not fan the fire.
Respect the danger zone. Come up for air and take some time away from each other. Bake a cake. Hang those towel holders in the bathroom. Mop the kitchen floor. Give that spark time to wane, then come back together when the hormones clear.
Create a list of things to do in case the power goes out. Idle time in the dark invites sleep or sex (or sex, then sleep). Have a list of alternative things to do, for crying out loud. Like a nice, long, placid game of Monopoly.
Use the kids you already have as a buffer. And, as an added bonus, a reminder of why you should stay far, far away from the object of your affection and the possible fertilizer of your eggs in the first place. Besides, you want to be able to enjoy your summer, not waddle through it.
How are you and your main squeeze spending your Hurricane Sandy time together?
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