Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Wives Lie

In touching on this subject I must write some personal and potentially salacious details. If you didn't like this golden post (which I count as one of my greatest works) then you probably don't want to read the end of this post.

Men know how women lie. Sorry, ladies… you lie. These lies range from benign to malicious. Sometimes you fool us. Sometimes you fool yourself. I love hearing a friend elaborate on some story regarding an argument or a little SNAFU or such confrontation where the lie is fairly obvious. That prompts me to boldly ask, “Whose benefit did you say that… yours or mine?” (Sometimes the friend knows I’ve just called her a liar.)

Sometimes wives tell different kind of lies.
“We can have sex every day of the week.”

Honest to God, that’s what she said. If I couldn’t detect that whopper then my Bullshit Detector © wouldn’t ever get calibrated correctly ever again.

We married nearly nine years ago. We’ve been a couple for exactly fifteen years. We first formally met 183 months ago… and we probably met or saw each other before that by two years. This was more than just some fun exaggeration on behalf of a playful wife. This was utter bullshit.

Oh, there were times when seven out of seven was regularly in the realm of possibility. (Ah, those carefree days of youth, those wonderful years, those glorious pages of history… we hardly knew you.) That’s why Rick says, “We’ll always have Paris.”

Some smug, probably feminist, jackass out there somewhere wonders, “How do you know for certain your Beautiful & Dutiful wife lied?” As if my extensive knowledge of her vocal inflections, facial expressions, posture, moods, and word choice isn’t enough… even the master burglar always leaves a tiny clue at the scene of the crime.

Earlier that evening she told me she was ovulating.

For a man of my experience (and with the pedigree and schooling with my Bullshit Detector ©) that was a no-brainer.

I instantly called her on it… however, part of me was wondering why seven-for-seven plan wasn’t a possibility last week, last month, or last year. A man can dream, …even if he’s married. The innocent, youthful, hopeful, and simple part of me (my naïveté, not just my libido) began to dance through dreams of possibility. I even started plotting out the when and where possibilities. (Think of the exuberance of Flounder in Animal House when he says, “Oh, boy! Is this going to be great?!?!?!”) Of course, the sensible side of me realized that this wasn’t going anywhere… well, more accurately; this vacation wasn’t going to be exactly like the pictures in the brochure at the travel agent.

Now, I’m not a vindictive guy… but my wife, the love of my life, the mother to my child, the civilizing force on my savage nature just told a lie big enough to incinerate every pair of pants she ever owned… and every pair she ever tried on since she was 13 years old. I wanted exactly what the Coz got on Junior Barnes.


She unknowingly gave me the perfect opportunity. The boy was with my parents that night. We had the house all to ourselves. We had a great time… however, I completely surprised her by confounding her plans to conceive.

Her face immediately turned into the “What in the flaming hootie-hoo do you think you’re doing?” face. The first words out of her mouth were, “You bastard!” She was so shocked that I would be so damn clever… she was also annoyed. Annoyed at me for denying her plans, but also annoyed at me because she knew it was damn funny.

For the next fifteen minutes or more she cursed me while laughing.

I win and I got to have sex. Hell…I’m bulletproof!

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