Adventures In Middle-Aged Gaming: The Perils Of Perineal Massage

“Y-y-y-you want me to do what?”  I asked incredulously.

“You want him to do what?” My wife asked sceptically.

“Well, if you want to avoid perineal tearing or an episiotomy then yes, I would recommend the massage.” Our birth instructor, Vera, then brushed aside a strand of hair from her face and looked at us with what I think was defiance in her eyes. Vera was in her fifties, seemingly lived in her track pants and had chugged lattes non-stop throughout the previous three birthing classes my wife and I had attended.

“Well” I added, “at least it might lead to some sexy time.”

The instructor shook her head, then added; “to be fair while it might lead to intimacy, it rarely does.  You see the massage is intended to loosen the perineal tissue so that when your wife gives birth she doesn’t  tear from her vagina to her anus.  The massage needs to be… intensive.”

While the instructor spoke, my wife just started at the floor, shaking her head.

“How intensive?” I asked.

“After you insert two fingers into the vagina you need then to press the sides and the bottom of the area widening the vaginal orifice.  There should be enough pressure to result in a burning sensation in and around the vagina.  That’s why it rarely leads to greater intimacy.  Some birth partners report finger and hand cramping as a result.  It is rare, but Carpal Tunnel Syndrome is a consideration.”

“Wait what?”  I blurted out.  “Does this hand and finger cramping last?  Like, would it last for a few hours or so?”

“It might.” She responded, clearly confused by my question.  “It could even last longer.”

“So, if a birth partner were to be say a musician, or might require dexterous hand movements on a consistent basis…this perineal massage might put that in jeopardy?”  I could feel my wife’s glare on the side of my face, but it was one of those situations where I couldn’t stop myself once I started.

“Oh, are you a musician?”  The instructor asked.  To which my wife just snorted at.

“Well no, not in a conventional sense, but I do rely on accurate finger movements for a very important activity.”  At this I realized that the five other couples in the birthing class were listening intently and were now looking directly at me.

“You’re not serious.”  My wife said.  “You would let me rip my twat down to my asshole, so you won’t cramp your hands for video games?”

“Well, ummm, err…”  I was clearly on my game.  I turned to my wife beside me “honey, Dirt 2 is out, I’m trying to rank up right now, this is a very critical time for me.  I have to review Uncharted 2 when it comes out, I’m still weighing whether I want to commit to Modern Warfare 2 or wait, or maybe just go for Borderlands, and Assassin’s Creed 2, for god’s sake Assassin’s Creed 2!  Do you have any idea how much of the first game relied on index fingers alone to initiate the parkour and to alter your stance in combat?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?”  Vera yelled at me.  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND A FUCKING WORD YOU’RE SAYING!  YOU’RE WIFE COULD TEAR HER VAGINA TO HER ANUS GIVING BIRTH TO YOUR SON, AND YOU’RE TALKING INSANITY!  ABOUT VIDEO GAMES?!”

“…………..”

I had nothing, really.  She kinda had me.

“Okay” Vera continued, “let’s take a break.”

After the break, the remainder of the class was forced but uneventful.  On the way out she wished us all well, reminded us about our notebooks and made a point of telling the expectant moms that they could call her at any time.  She shook my hand but did not make eye contact.  The pitying look she gave my wife was only mildly insulting, but I kept my mouth shut.

In the car my wife asked; “so?”

I’m icing my hand nightly but it’s not helping’¦