My daughter turns 1 year old this week. I think that when you have a daughter, as a man, your whole relationship with the vagina changes. The vagina used to be something I rarely saw, but when I did see it, it always looked so nice…so inviting…so delicious. It was always all decked out and had good backlighting and looked like one of those classy B&W Calvin Klein ads or something. As Tyra Banks would say: it looked fierce!

But now I see vagina every day. Multiple times. And every time I see one, I’m literally scrapping sh*t out of it. That’s right. That wasn’t included in any of those “what to expect” baby books. But maybe it should be, because it’s basic physics that when a baby girl poops, and she’s flopping around and/or sleeping in her own filth, inevitably the poop will get crammed in her cooch. Then you spend your time with baby wipes trying to get it out so she doesn’t get any kind of infection in there.

And when that becomes your foundation, I think the whole allure and mystique of seeing a vagina has pretty much gone the way of the dodo.

Apparently it’s also a basic tenet of Newtonian physics that there’s an inverse relationship to the amount of times a man sees his daughter’s vag to the amount of times he sees his wife’s. Put another way: after the baby arrives, you might as well put your genitals on layaway. Or just donate them to someone else, as you won’t be needing them. I’ve learned that men and women handle stress completely differently. When a woman is stressed, sex is the LAST thing she has on her mind. (Except when she’s having “me” time in the bath tub and reading 50 Shades of Grey.) But when a man is stressed, sex is the ONLY thing that helps clear his mind and makes the stressful times bearable. New fathers will quickly learn that their wants and physical needs no longer matter.

New fathers will also quickly get reacquainted with an old friend called porn. “Peter North, I’d like you to meet Jenna Jameson. Peter. Jenna. Jenna. Peter. I’ll just stand over here and let you two get to know each other a little better.”

Once, when my daughter was just a few weeks old, I was lying on the couch and she was sleeping on my chest. She looked so cute and angelic. Then…her diaper exploded. I mean it looked like a carton of Yoo-Hoo was running down me and onto the couch. Liquid poop was all over my chest! It was so awful and so disgusting – which is weird for me because I’ve paid girls 100′s of dollars to sh*t on my chest. It was everywhere – and her cooch looked like the La Brea Tar Pits. I needed a ShamWow to clean everything up. Our dog Wilbur started licking up all the poop (no – not out of my daughter’s vag). Then he went outside and threw up. But then he proceeded to eat his vomit. He was happy.

And I’m happy too. I truly adore my daughter! But…don’t get me wrong: I miss my genitals very much and I hope to see/use them again at some point in the future. Maybe my wife will take them out of the attic and dust them off in a couple years when our daughter gets too big to cuddle.