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Inspirational Reads

On the Married Guy's Perspective

December 17, 2008

I wasn't sure what I was getting into when SouthernBelle asked me to do the "married guy's perspective". In case you, like me, are unaware, TishTash started it all by giving her single girl's perspective on various topics. At the same time, SouthernBelle gave the married woman's thoughts on the same topics. Then, the coolest dude in the whole wide blogosphere, Scope, chimed in from the single guy's perspective on the very same topics! Can you believe it? Then SouthernBelle heard a rumor that I was married and asked if I could provide the fourth leg to this very unholy barstool. So, here I am, opining away on a variety of topics that I hadn't really thought over until today around 3:00 pm.

Dinner Dates:

You can get a whole meal off those little palm fruits? Awesome!!!

As a husband and father of two, dinner dates are few and far between. However, the dinner date was usually my method of choice back in the single days--with two notable exceptions: 1) the long-term relationship that started when I threw caution to the wind in a bar and started talking to a blonde girl sitting all alone in a booth by the window which later resulted in a long walk through a somewhat unknown city and 2) my current eight year plus relationship where I've done things like get married and reproduce. Is there a pattern forming here? Yeah, probably. I opted for the dinner dates because I prefer talking to the awkwardness of sitting in a dark theatre wondering if I should hold her hand or pat her arm or do that trick where I cut a hole in the bottom of the popcorn bucket and then set it on my lap. The fact that I resemble Patrick Star when I'm eating probably did more to turn off my dates than my witty repartee and shining, scintillating personality did to turn them on. Plus, now that I think about it, there's nothing sexy about watching someone chew. Even now, in those rare moments when the Buxom and Comely and Easily Terrifed Boudicca and I are able to steal a few moments away from the kids, we usually just go somewhere for dessert or a drink or something like that. And then lots of awkward backseat sex--just like in my single days!!!

Flowers:

If you're a real, suave romantic, like me, then you just buy a bag of flour and start asking when she's going to finally bake that goddamned pie.

There's a double-edged nature to flowers. On one hand, hooray, they're pretty. On the other, spontaneous flower gifting looks mighty suspicious, like "Whoops, sorry, forgot our anniversary was two weeks ago" or "I stubbed my toe at work and accidentally got a hand job by one of the secretaries. Funny story, that." I do the standard flower gifts on the standard days: Valentine's Day, Birthday, Anniversary, St. Patrick's Day...I remember one time I brought home flowers as a surprise, romantic gift, and my wife excitedly asked "Did your book get published?" I can still see it: The look of abject, crushing defeat on her face when I told her no was the exact same look she had the first time she saw me naked. These days, I avoid the random flower gift, because it causes us both to curl up into the fetal position and cry a lot less.

Children:

They're fine, so long as they stay out of the corn...

My kids are great. They're the most loving, joyful, happy thing in my life.
My kids are awful. They're the most sniveling, frustrating, rethink every bad decision I've ever made thing in my life.

Usually I swing on that pendulum about...how many minutes are in a day? Yeah. I love my kids to death, but there are those days when I want to walk into the room and knock their heads together, Three Stooges Style. I look at them and see a line of suitors beating down my door to get to my daughter and I see my son heading off to college somewhere, and I just want to hug them. And then five minutes later I'm sending them to their room, threatening to call the orphanage. I'm happy with two and want half a dozen more. Does that make sense? Okay, good, then you know what it's like to have kids.

Commitment:

Is that that stop smoking lozenge? Isn't lozenge a funny word?

I'm not sure what to say here. I got burned in the aforementioned other long-term relationship by commitment from the other partner, and then got into my current state after dicking someone over big time. I'm a walking hypocrisy--Hey hey! I'm living the American Dream!!! I'm absolutely committed to my wife, but I also subscribe to the "Even if you're on a diet, you can still look at the menu" approach to things. I may pass half a dozen women during the day that I find attractive and sexy, but I come home to my wife every night, even on those evenings when we're angry with each other. I haven't slept around on my wife, I don't plan on sleeping around on my wife, and even though we went through a few rough patches, we still managed to work our way through it. It wasn't easy--I'll be the first to admit that--but dialogue, forgiveness, and understanding that people can be stubborn and stupid and proud and loving all at once helps to sort things out when it seems impossible to keep those promises you made long ago.

Holidays:

Holidays are the best excuse to slack off work there is. Oh, you know, it's the end of the year, I can take it a little easy. Holidays are also an excellent way to help reaffirm that whole commitment thing. I have never felt closer and more in-tune with my wife than those times when we've been stranded amidst a sea of our family at the holidays, where every little thing that they do cheeses the both of you off, so you go upstairs to rant and rave and vent in hushed tones to one another and then sneak off to the car for some awkward backseat sex--just like back in my single days!!! I love the holidays!!!

Victoria's Secret:

It's always difficult for me to go to the mall, because I'll get transfixed by the six-feet of cleavage and seven feet of smooth, silky, shining legs that appear in the windows. I stare and I dream and I drool a little. I imagine the seraphim carrying me to heaven with their tiny wings attached to their sculpted, oiled, shining bodies with heaving breasts spilling over the cups of their bras and minuscule panties cutting a high arc over the swell of flaring, shapely hips. The blood pulses through my body as I dream of drifting down to sleep between Giselle Bundchen's breasts. Then I look into the store and see that the 99% of the clientele is fifteen-year-old girls, and then I feel really, really dirty.

8 comments:

TishTash said...

Thanks for finishing up the game!

Sending the kids to the orphanage is a nice threat, but when I was a kid, the most effective one was being sent to the convent.

And if you ever find yourself feeling dirty in front of Victoria's Secret again, just look to the left at the other guy. Or the right. They're both probably creepier.

katrocket said...

This is all very funny and honest at the same time - great post!

SouthernBelle said...

Yay!!! I knew you'd do us proud!

Very funny and awesome.

I also love what you said about commitment. We've been together for just over 8 years and it is hard sometimes and the grass past the fence does look greener occasionally, but there is no one that would be a better husband for me and I know that.

Except for Clive Owen of course.

Susan said...

Ok, there was a backseat sex theme throughout - pretty impressive... now I'm going to put the challenge out there to the husband this weekend, of course, we'll have to have the heat running since it's 17 degrees here. Aside from that, I am going upstairs to see how many popcorn buckets my husband has cut holes in. You men are so fucking creative.

pistols at dawn said...

I always figured flowers were a bad sign, because it was like, "Hey, I love spending $30 on crap that's dead. Speaking of which, how's your burger?"

It's that kind of rational approach to women that's ensured I stay on the single side of the equation.

~E said...

Amy Adams is hot!

And for the most part I agree with you on everything (does that mean I should be a married boy?? ick!)

I might add however that when it comes to flowers, usually the first thing I think of when I get random ones is "ok, what did you do and where do you want to hide the body?"

Also, not all the clientele at VS are 15 year old girls. I'm a healthy, LEGAL 26 and I still shop there from time to time. Especially when I feel like going home afterwards to have a nice healthy cry at how I don't fit into anything and I'm fat and don't look like any of those models.

Good times good times!

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ TishTash: Well, we already send the kids to Catholic school, so the convent thing isn't really much of a threat. They aren't old enough to understand the threat of Juvy, so we're stuck with the Orphanage for now.

@ katrocket: There's no other way to be funny than honest. Perhaps honesty with a tiny bit of sensationalism worked in, but honest nonetheless.

@ Southern Belle: See, I feel the same way. Except for the Clive Owen thing.

@ Susan: I think the more impressive thing--aside from the awkward backseat sex theme--was that I managed to not work the word 'fuck' into that post at all. Amazing.

@ Pistols: I'm kind of in the same boat. I figured if I brought flowers to a date, it'd be the ones she's allergic to. Or they'd have a bee in them. And there's no surer cockblock than bee stings and hay fever.

@ E: No, no. I don't think you should be a married boy. I think you're perfectly fine the way you are. And, I need to start hanging around YOUR mall, apparently.

dg said...

Yeah - you should feel dirty. Mostly because Victoria's Secret isn't a secret any longer - all of their merchandise falls apart, man. I stopped buying VS stuff awhile ago - just couldn't handle paying $45 for a bra that lasted for one week.

Worst experience ever: Am standing in a line at supermarket. Feel an odd jiggle on brastrap and ZING! my brand new VS bra strap chooses to dislodge itself from the bra body. BOOM! The girls hit the floor. Sag city, I call thee home.

End of story.

DG starts buying bras at fucking Target, babe.