3 kids later, dates with my wife are rare. Last time we had one, the waiter asks, “How are we doing tonight?” I say “Last time we had a night free from our kids, I got my wife pregnant again. We haven’t ordered our drinks yet. But I already feel like I’m in the midst of a 5 week rave in Germany, if you really need to know.”
New Yorkers are no longer procreating fast enough to replace their dying population. Over the hill hipsters, can’t get it up to pork their girlfriends, because they’re already glued to the couch from another pork induced coma. Lena Dunham clones want to have sex but they’re not hot enough to impregnate by mistake either. Lena’s Dunham’s encouraged flappy look on Instagram isn’t helping. Over the hill hipsters hobbits aren’t getting their girlfriends into the mood for sweet, sticky love either, when their ideal workout is picking up a phone to order more Pork Buns instead. So, ladies, if you want your sweaty sex period with your boyfriend to last more than 2 seconds, than stop mimicking Lena Dunham’s encouraged frumpiness on Instagram. No man, bi, straight or gay, is sweating the prospect of missing out on the opportunity to mount the hunchback of Bushwick, who looks like she just swallowed Hipsterville USA during restaurant week, trust me.