Your baby is beautiful. He’s going to be such a lady-killer. Of course, I don’t mean that this sweet baby you’re holding in your arms and trying to soothe to sleep is going to be some kind of psychopath who murders women in fits of misogynist rage. My God, I would never suggest such a thing. It’s just an expression. All I’m saying is that he’s gorgeous. Look at those cute little lips—what grown adult woman won’t one day want to kiss them passionately during horny foreplay that will end in full-on porno sex?
Oh my, I can’t get over those sweet adorable eyes. Don’t you love it when babies look so tired, you just want to cuddle them forever. With eyes like those, your baby will break so many hearts and leave a trail of emotionally devastated women who will never be able to love anyone else and will sadly die alone.
Aww, was that a burp or a hiccup? I can’t handle this level of cuteness — phew, the girls will be breaking down the doors to get to him. Those itsy bitsy toes are sending me; they’re so tiny, it’s almost impossible not to imagine them growing to size twelve and being covered with masculine hair, entangled with a woman’s dainty lady feet as they wrestle each other during hot, erotic, vigorous sex.
Why am I evaluating your baby’s future sexual potential? That’s a very good question. Believe me, I ask myself this about a thousand times a day, and I have no good answer, but I can’t seem to stop. I wish I could. I know it’s not just creepy and inappropriate, but my sexually themed comments seem to be making you extremely uncomfortable, and worse, they’re clearly thwarting your efforts to get your baby to fall asleep, which will surely throw his whole schedule into disarray. As he’s just a baby, I should probably be thinking about his needs, or yours as you’re his exhausted primary caretaker, but I can’t stop thinking about all the women who are going to want to boink your baby when he’s all grown up.
I know I have a problem. Help! What’s wrong with me? Whenever I see a good-looking baby, I immediately skip right past childhood to adolescence when sexual attraction begins, and from there my imagination goes wild, and by wild, I mean it jumps to explicit content. But why do I do this? Am I compelled to assess their heterosexual prospects in a desperate effort to self-soothe and reinforce the idea, to myself and others, that males will only ever have sex with females because the world as I understand it is made up of two different genders? Maybe your baby will be gay or bi or ace or aro? Maybe it’s none of my business? These are all things I can’t possibly contemplate when in the presence of a baby.
Your baby’s future is wide open. They can be and do anything. They can have multiple relationships with multiple people to make them feel less alone in the world, and some of those relationships might be intimate ones, but they don’t have to be — ideally it will be up to them to decide. On the other hand, if I whisper my daft ideas into his ears, maybe he’ll never even consider those possibilities and the world can continue exactly as it is now. This will be an enormous relief to people like me whose imagination is limited to my own experience, and whose belief system was shaped by (probably!) some Iron Age scribes in the Levant on the one hand and a pop-culture environment still dominated by heteronormativity on the other.
Oh, look, he’s finally asleep. Bless his sweet little heart. What a shameless flirt he is! Someone help me.