Erin and I attended our first childbirth class last night. We met six other couples and came away feeling even better about our relationship, our pregnancy, and our odds for a good birth experience. I am sorry to report that some of the “men”—I’m using the term loosely—in the class are fairly unsupportive. For a couple, it’s a somewhat understandable male awkwardness about feelings of fatherhood. We’re not an articulate lot as a gender, so it’s hard not to feel some compassion for the poor shmoe who’s stumbling through talking about his emotions. Hopefully his wife understands and appreciates the effort, even if I’m unimpressed.

On the other hand, in one case there’s an immaturity that makes you want to slap the guy. I’m not sure that after viewing a childbirth film the most tactful question is, “What the hell was that crap coming out?” which is a verbatim quote from Mr. Loser. His young wife is already super-freakin’ over the pain of childbirth, so it’s not hard to see that this doofus ain’t makin’ it better. I suppose if there’s a plus side, it’s that despite my faults and inadequacies, this guy makes me look like a superstar. It’d take a lot of brain damage before I’d ever approach being that big of a jerk.

So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice….