Swing

Three couples stood nearby as I worked on ridding another bar of its alcohol infestation. Out of respect and indifference, I usually ignore married women. However, I have noticed that when you ignore certain people they’ll display odd behaviors to grab attention. She wasn’t holding any signs, but began performing humping-jacks.

“Hey, how are you?”

“All right.”

“Are you from around here?”
“You’re married.”

“I know. My husband is right over there.”

“Right.”

“So …”

“Carlsbad.”

“Ah. You’re really cute.”

“You’re married.”

“You can still be cute,” she said while grabbing my arm.

“I guess it depends on your angle.”

“Wow, you have great arms too.”
“You’re married.”

“I know. Look, he’s cool. We’ve been married fourteen years. He trusts me. This is my friend, Emma,” she said, dragging her friend into the conversation—confusing me further.

“Hello, Emma. I’m Phil … and you’re married too.”

“Yes, I am. My husband is over there talking to Megan’s husband who, by the way, is my gyno.”

“Of course, he is.”

Both women continued the unwelcome flirtation with my buddy and me. It was disturbing not only because they were married, but because they were distracting us from the unwed. They finally left us to refuel, and we debated their intentions.

“Dude, I’ll hook up with a married woman, but not while her husband is a few feet away encouraging it.”

“You think they’re swingers?”

“No doubt.”

“They could be Christians.”

“What?”

“Some sort of cult thing, possibly. Perhaps they lure single men back to their dens, drug them, and shove speculums up their rectums.”

“No more rum for you.”

“All right. They’re swingers. Would you do it?”

“Hell no. You?”

“That little spinner, Megan, is right in my wheelhouse.”

“Go for it.”

“Nope, but I must play along.”

Megan returned, sneaking up behind me and grabbing my ass cheeks like peaches.

“Wow, you have a great ass.”

“By all means, help yourself.”

“It’s harmless. See? It gets me all worked up and then I go home and fuck the shit out of my husband.”

“Happy to be of service. I assume it’s OK for him to go a-groping too.”

“Sure, but he’s talking football with his buddies.”

“’Tis the season.”

“You can grab my butt if you like,” she offered as she turned away, bent over, and lifted her skirt—exposing her tiny pink panties. She looked over her left shoulder, smiled, and winked. Naturally, this caused me to imagine the next great one-handed catch Vincent Jackson would make.

“I like and I won’t, but thank you.”

My buddy asked if he saw what he thought he saw. I reassured him and excused myself to the restroom to cool off. After a few shakes I walked straight into Megan, who grabbed me and planted a slippery kiss on my paranoid lips.

“Hey, you.”

“Megan, what the …”

“Shh. Let’s go into a stall and do it. Want to?”

“Yes and no.”

“Don’t worry. It’s cool.”

“You have an unconventional marriage.”

“We just do what we need to keep it spicy.”

“Have you tried the jalapeño nachos?”

“Chicken.”

“… or beef. Both are picoso.”

My instincts prodded me but I couldn’t do it. What strange times we live in.

Honeymooners

As I wade and drink margaritas on my Mexican vacation, I notice numerous sparkles from the fingers and eyes of newlyweds. Meeting me and hearing what I do is likely cause for consternation.

"Ah, I kid. It's all fiction, you know?"
"But, it's based in reality."
"Perhaps."
"So, what advice would you give newlyweds?"
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
"What?"
"Hate it while it lasts?"
"It's supposed to last forever, isn't it?"
"I'm a statistics man and the odds are it won't."
"Jesus."
"Well, you asked. Look, my point is that you two should enjoy the heck out of what you have right now without worrying about what's coming. Like this honeymoon (Ha, I just typo'd hineymoon ... I'm such a hiney.), you know you can't spend the rest of your lives here at this magnificent pool bar, so enjoy it now and avoid thinking about what's next."

The couples are cute reminders of a fun time for me over 20 years ago. The brides all have odd looks on their faces--a combination of relief and confusion. They buried themselves in wedding planning for a year or so and in a flash it's over. Now what? All that remains of the special day are thank-you notes and re-gifting. Some begin considering parenthood as the next destination. Again, I remind them to concentrate on the trip, not the destination. In other words, "Fuck a lot, while you both still enjoy it. Leave the baby making to the storks."

The grooms are definitely more chilled (until they check the bill). They have dessert, after dinner drinks, cigars, and post-pool quickies. It's all good. Hm. The other brides around the pool are still distracting. Oh, well. This French one over here is topless. Her perfect Hershey's kisses sit high up on her breasts, making her a delicious dessert--an expensive one, should he ever foolishly indulge. No, marriage hasn't taken away the instinct. That ring doesn't cover his eyes. Yet, the cost of momentary weakness is staggering and he's confident he can control himself. Good boy, for now.

Again, this is all sarcastic silliness with a dab of reality.

This much is true and I'll testify to such on a stack of Oreos: Concentrate on growing your friendship, because if your marriage ends, the friendship will be the most wonderful thing you get to keep--not your children, not your pets, not your china, not your paycheck, not your memories. If you build that friendship into love, it can last much longer than the sexual fires you've stoked. You can love that person and forgive the way you would any close friend's misdeeds. You can expose parts you'd be embarrassed to show others. You can be weak without fear of being judged.

Enjoy the honeymoon. Squeeze every drop from it. Play your role, but regularly remind your spouse of your admiration and appreciation. Commit to creating happiness in each moment. Your spouse is your best friend now. That friendship will get you both through the obstacle course you'll face when the honeymoon ends.

Zip It

Women and men list things they want to hear from their partners, but rarely do we get a list of things they don’t want to hear. I guess that makes sense: People don’t want to hear what they don’t want to hear. All of this pussyfooting around is giving me shin splints and migraines.

Fine. I can’t hug it out so I’ll write it out.

Men don’t want to hear the following from the person they are mounting:

• I’m late.
• I have a yeast infection.
• Remember that guy I used to date?
• We need to talk.
• My mother is coming to visit.
• You weren’t saving the [insert dearest thing], were you?
• I made some room in the closet.
• Diesel gas works as well as regular, right?
• Promise me you won’t be mad.
• I picked up a DVD I’ve been dying to see.
• You left your phone/computer unlocked.
• We just received another wedding invitation.
• Don’t you love my new hairstyle?
• The car is making a funny noise.
• Wow, that was quick.
• My ex was hung like a buffalo.
• Pfffbbbpppttt … phht … breep.
• How hard is it to get the garage door back on its tracks?
• I got rid of those old magazines.
• Aren’t you getting too old to be still [wearing/playing/watching] that?
• Did you read the directions?

Women don’t want to hear certain things either:

• I think the rubber fell off.
• … and it’s stuck inside you.
• Why are your boobs uneven?
• I bought you, I mean us a treadmill.
• My buddies are coming over for poker night.
• It’s not what you think.
• It didn’t mean anything.
• You don’t really want dessert, do you?
• I’ll do all the work. You can just lie there.
• Surprise! I did the wash and ironing for you.
• Why do you need another [purse/pair of shoes/bracelet/scarf/ring]?
• Can you come get me?
• I don’t know whose those are.
• Do you think we can live off your income?
• Should I pop that zit for you?
• Every woman has a lesbian fantasy.
• Don’t you think you’ve had enough?
• Your [friend/sister/boss] is hot.
• My ex used to do it.
• Can you help me with my résumé?
• I just got the hottest stock tip.
• You have to see this. Bring the camera.
• Look at those tits!