Your Turn

So, my wife and I both find the return home to a Sitter from a night out with friends to roughly parallel a walk of shame. Slurring, a lame attempt to find out 'how everyone was', or even worse, to engage them in personal discussion that you never had upon their arrival 'cause you were so excited to get out the door, are all unpleasant that late at night...for me anyway. For years, I've been successful at artfully dodging any engagement with said Person, until my wife finally caught on to me.

Turns out she hates it too. To determine who will greet the Sitter now, we have developed a highly organized, complex and random scheme: Rock, Paper, Scissors on the way home. Granted, its lame, but as long as both folks are still coherent or at least standing, it gets the job done.

Recently, I lost (cause my wife who is smarter than me has adopted a new strategy...rather than throwing in the next round, cause we do 2 out of 3, what I just threw, she'll throw what would have lost to it). Damn! So, I need a new strategy.

And, given that the Sitter, to whom I should have written a $90 check, but instead gave her $9 check cause I was completely sober, I need a new sitter too! Ugh.

Remote Control

Once every 4 months or so, my wife gets fed up with the fact that she never gets to hold or use the remote control. I mean she gets pissed off. Basically, she'll walk into the room and explode without warning. If it weren't justified I'd probably get pretty freaked out...but because she is, I kinda have to giggle to myself. I am surprised really that she doesn't get angry more often.

See, I generally choose to not watch TV unless I'm controlling it OR unless I'm with someone who shares the same TV-viewing philosophy and preferences that I do. Its safe to say that she doesn't fit into that category.

So, when she stated emphatically that on Tuesday she was going to watch The Bachelor in our bedroom, I acquiesced. In fact, I generally relocate to the 'den' and watch whatever I was watching prior. But this Tuesday I decided to download something from my queue on Netflix and watch it while sitting next to her on our bed. Sweetness. She actually seemed more interested in what I was watching than I was.

The point of all this? Well, relationships are largely about control. TV viewing is no different. I simply don't compromise much in this arena and I embrace that. I think I have a solution, though. If she wants to become the remote control, much in the manner of this photo, I'm game. I'm pretty sure she'll go for it.

You are a Tool and Now we Have Proof

It’s too convenient these days to capture a memorable moment with a digital camera. With the iPhone and my sucky Treo, anyone can snap a good shot. And, I do get a serious case of the giggles going back through my shots… many of which are taken on a night after I’m unable to drive legally.

But with that accessibility seems to accompany a complete abandonment of judgment. People these days are taking full advantage of those moments, capturing them for your enjoyment and then unfortunately distributing them to a larger audience, at your or their own expense.
Take this shot. No idea who this is, or why the hell she’s dressed this way. I love it. Problem is, if her boyfriend took it, he’s an idiot. If she’s trying to get a boyfriend, she just screwed the pooch…’cause I don’t think this will help attract one. And if she’s interviewing for a job, I’m pretty certain this wouldn’t work in her favor.

So, do what you can to self-screen. The web is full of sites devoted to illicit or embarrassing pictures of exes.

Nesting

After you’re married, you will not only have new, fancy china, silver and serving platters, but your wife will likely require an abode worthy of housing such artifacts. The walls will need to be adorned with the likes of materials presently in vogue. The house symbolizes progression from the single to the domesticated. Its audience is not internal, its purpose not function. It’s about form…

Nesting is real. Though your wife may not even acknowledge this, it resides below the surface in most women. And it runs deep sometimes. They’ve thought more about this than you, in all likelihood (unless you skew metrosexual). Prepare for the day when the question ‘What do you think?’ is posed. And, remember, that ‘I couldn’t care less’ gets you less sex than would a ‘It looks great. Thank you for your hard work.’