Grabbing on me genes

“She’s grabbing on me genes Dave.” 

I looked at Tony’s trousers in confusion. 

“She’s grabbing your jeans?” 

“No, my genes. My sperm. My superior genetic material.” 

I tried not to picture the image, but failed. I didn’t speak for some time. 

“So what do you think?” Tony said eventually. 

“It sounds messy,” I said. 

“I mean, she wants to have my baby.” 

“Oh, I see.  That sounds messy too.” 

“So what shall I do?” 

“Do you want a baby?” 

“Of course I don’t. I’m nineteen, I’ve got my whole life in front of me. A baby now would be the end of everything.  

“Have you thought about not having sex.” 

“You’re not making sense, Dave. What should I do? 

“Have you thought about not having sex?” 

“You’re not making sense Dave, what should I do.” 

“Have you thought about ...” 

“That’s not an option, Dave.” 

“Well, wear a condom.” 

“She doesn’t like them. Won't have sex if I'm wearing one.” 

“What about the withdrawal method?” 

“It’s tricky.” 

“Tricky! It’s been used for generations.” 

“Yeah, you’ve just evidenced that it doesn’t work.” 

“You need to talk to her, tell her you’re not ready for a child yet.” 

“I did.” 

“And?  How did it go.” 

“She said if we’re not trying for a baby there was no point having sex.” 

“So what do you plan to do?” 

“We’re trying for a baby.” 

“Shit!” I said. 
“Yeah. Fancy another pint Dave.  I may not be a free man much longer.”