The Lesbian Baby Shower

Charlotte: I promise I won't become one of those mothers who can only talk about diaper genies.

Carrie: Good.

Samantha: What the hell is a diaper genie?

Carrie: I don't know... someone you hire to change a kid's diaper?

So after a night of Irish pubs, gossip and shots of Yeager and Red Bull, I decided to take it down a notch and attend a baby shower for two really good friends of mine who are, in fact, lesbians. (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

Now I’ve actually never BEEN to a baby shower before, oddly enough. Yes, I have friends and family that have kids, however none of them seem to be located in the vicinity of the DC-MD-VA tri-state area and I could somehow never justify flying across the country to watch a bunch of women ooo and ahh over a diaper genie (or pee-pee teepee as was the case on Saturday).

Side Note: you know I’m pretty sure I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing what a pee-pee tee-pee was OR its function in modern day America and been perfectly happy.

Additionally I think it should be said that I’m a girly girl. I’m just not yet at that state in my life where I prefer booties to Manolos; baby powder to Obsession; lullabies to rock concerts or epidurals to Ortho Evra.

Thank goodness for the Mr. Wall Street.

Now you wouldn’t think that a baby shower, gay or straight, be an environment conducive to meeting a guy – well apparently you’d be wrong. Especially when the girl in question gets grossed out by such subjects as dilation, breast feeding, and stretch marks. Incidentally, I think the whole practice of breast feeding is unnatural and barbaric. I am a woman – not A COW and so there will NEVER be anything hanging off me and sucking fluids from my body! Oh! And still horrified that anyone would schedule an event in the middle of College Football game day – that’s just inconsiderate and…well…wrong! Isn’t there an Emily Post article on this topic? If not, there should be!


So while everyone was gushing over the newly unwrapped baby blanket (eye roll), I escaped outside for a much needed cigarette away from all of the estrogen and who should follow me, but the rather attractive brother of the mother-to-be who also seemingly to be the only straight, single man within miles of this gestational shin-dig located smack dab in the middle of a suburban, cookie-cutter, driveway cluttered, kiddy toy littered hell! And what should he have but a light, and the football scores…sigh….my hero.

So we chatted, even played a little basketball in the chilly October air, and generally avoided the domestic goddesses inside unless we needed to refill our drinks. He is an incredibly adorable, funny investment banker with a brownstone on the upper west side of Manhattan. Who knows if I’ll see him again though he offered to tour me around the NYC sports bar scene the next time I was in town, which is actually the most tempting offer I’ve had from a man in a while. Clearly the way to this woman’s heart is through beer and football. Yes, I know...I'm an uber classy gal.

Mr. Wall Street, you had me at “Michigan is up by 7 in the 4th”