Isn’t that nice of them? And since they’re dudes I don’t want to say “Hey dudes, I’d love to go and pound some brewskies but the lining of my uterus could be compromised by excessive drinking and given all the vaginal ultrasounds, suppositories, injections, not to mention sperm samples my husband has had to produce in shady men’s rooms I’d really rather not take the chance and bugger up this in-vitro. So, no thanks.
Instead I say, sorry, can’t. Really gotta work. Lot on my plate. Later.
So I’m a goodie too shoes who works too much, doesn’t want to get to know anyone outside of the office and who is kind of a buzz kill.
I can only imagine how talk of a trans-vag ultrasound would kill the buzz.
I’m not stuck up. I just think my uterus is at the center of the universe right now. So just f$#* off, alright.
Ok, so I may not be stuck up. But maybe I’m kind of a bit.c.h.