Everyone Died+My iPhone Stopped Working: An Oral History of The Robot Apocalypse

The Thing

I mean, Carbon-Based Christ-on-a-Crutch, people! It's terrifying! Kevin's mood goes from "You had me at hello" to "Leave Britney alooooooone!" in the blink of an eye. And I've learned that the only thing worse than saying "You're being irrational" to a weepy pregnant woman is saying it to a weepy pregnant woman who can bench two hundred pounds!

Pregnant Hulk smash!

LOL! Or not, since I'm the one who has to keep glueing our plates back together.

I'm not complaining. Well, I'm not only complaining. I feel so lucky to have found Kevin and I am thrilled that we're creating a new life together. But a gay man having a baby with a halfway-transitioned FTM transgender person definitely presents some unique challenges.

Like people will ask us if we know whether the child will be a boy or a girl.

Kevin's usual answer is, "I reject our society's pathological insistence that gender is a binary concept consisting of only two suffocating categories — 'male' or 'female' — and that to forever pigeonhole a human being based solely on the genitalia with which they were born, thus ignoring the vast richness and complexity of the gender spectrum, is itself a form of abuse!"

My usual answer is: "No."

LOL!

But all that's nothing compared to choosing a baby name! I get that Kevin doesn't want to force a gender or an orientation on the kid, but coming up with a name that isn't too masculine or too feminine or too androgynous or, God forbid, "Haley" — like the world needs any more of those — is like finding an unretouched photo of Fergie where she doesn't look like the Cryptkeeper's niece. Impossible!

At this point, Kevin and I are giving serious consideration to putting a bar code on the kid's forehead and leaving it at that. We can scan him in at night.

Did I say him? I meant... uh... they? Zir? The Thing? It's so confusing!

Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing. Hell, I almost never know what I'm doing. There was a time, not too long ago, when I wore a bowler hat! For six months! I felt so suave, but I actually looked like I was cast as a droog in an all-twink version A Clockwork Orange. But whatevs. That only affected me! But soon, I'll be a parent! And all my stupid ideas will have consequences for someone else!

Think about it: what if I made my baby wear a bowler? That would be... well, actually, a baby in a bowler would be adorable! Can you imagine? A little diaper-wearing butterball crawling around in a bowler? You'd say, "Awwww!" until you literally died! LOL!

OK, so... bad example! Forget the whole bowler thing.

Although "Bowler" might be a nice name for a baby. Hmmmm...

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm lost at sea. And not with a bunch of cute sailors, LOL, but I just wish that I had some idea of what to expect. In a way, I envy my parents, because they knew what to expect. They had a plan. Their boy would like girls and sports. I'd grow up and get a respectable job and marry a respectable woman and give them grandchildren. And then I'd stick my parents in a home where I'd have them overmedicated and steal their life's savings as soon as I got Power of Attorney.

Obviously, that last part was my plan, LOL, but the point is that they knew what they were supposed to do.

Actually, no. They didn't know what they were supposed to do, either. They just thought they did. Which was actually worse. 'Cause it was their expectations that drove us apart. That and their collection of Franklin Mint Plates. Honestly, could they be more of a cliché?

So maybe it's OK. Maybe it's OK that I don't know what to expect. That I don't know what my child will be like, that I don't know what the future will be. The Robot War will end. Or it won't. There will be a future. Or there won't. I don't know what's going to happen. But no parent ever does.

Maybe all I can do is hold on tight and hope for the best.

On the other hand, "Bowler" is really growing on me! It has a nice ring to it, don't you think? It'd work for male, female, straight gay... everybody! I'm gonna run this by Kevin! I'll let you know what he says!

UPDATE #1: Kevin does not like the name "Bowler" for the baby.

UPDATE #2: At all!

UPDATE #3: Kevin is weeping.

UPDATE #4: Kevin is laughing.

UPDATE #5: Kevin is weeping.

UPDATE #6: Now that Lucas has learned about the hormonal swings of pregnant women, he has decided that he is never going to have sex.

UPDATE #7: I have pointed out that the universe has already made that decision for him.

UPDATE #8: Lucas is weeping.