Believe what you’ve heard, Dear Reader, yours truly is entering a week-long period of wife-lessness. Every now and then when I was a child, my father would enter such a spousal hibernation while my mother was on some business trip, and although he went into each one with a positive attitude, by the time we were driving to the airport you could sense the desperation. Husbands need their wives, we come to depend on them more than we’d care to admit. Some people like to joke that this absence mainly affects the cleanliness of the house or the quality of dinner, but the truth is far more insidious: the real gap is emotional, psychological.
The worst part is that when the lady departs, you are suddenly free to commence all the ridiculous activities you are constantly griping that she won’t let you do. For about a half of a second, you think, “Sweet!” And then you start doing them, and slowly two things dawn on you at once: firstly, they aren’t as much fun when no one is around being annoyed. Secondly…they’re not really that great in the first place. It’s a sobering moment most of us try to ignore, stuffing our faces with terrible food and telling ourselves that we’re having a wonderful time. As far as rebellious stands go, it’s pitiful.
What are these activities, you ask? Let me list them:
1. Video games. Let me tell you something that is true: video games are only half as fun when there’s nothing wrong with playing them. No, don’t argue with me, Dear Reader, we both know it’s true. I can shoot a thousand aliens and/or zombies with a rocket launcher, but without Corelyn going “Ewww, how can you PLAY this?” it just isn’t the same.
2. The guys. Ah yes, “the guys.” As soon as the wife is gone, we always talk about how much time we’re gonna get with “the guys.” Problem is, “the guys” can only stand each other for relatively brief periods of time before fist fights break out. Women, apparently, can innately sense these limits, and have developed a habit of forcing us to go to the grocery store just a few minutes prior, sparing us our disillusionment.
3. Disgusting food. Ask yourself seriously how much time you’d like to spend in various positions around a toilet bowl, then re-assess this so-called “pleasure.”
4. Whatever radio station I feel like. A remarkably tame pay-off when compared to the fuss we put up when a woman (gasp) changes the station. You get to the end of that Metallica song she hates, and…uh…that’s sort of it. Now it’s time for three hours of commercials.
5. Sovereign Control of Room Temperature. Okay, this one is actually pretty good.
6. Unlimited Access to Lavatory. I mean, I guess it’s nice to not wait that extra minute to take a leak, but an isolated relationship with the wash room forces every man to a horrifying conclusion: we are the cause of all the bad things here. It’s not like my wife leaves foul odors around the toilet, or smeared tooth paste in the sink, or blood on the floor. Suddenly we begin wondering if she spends so much time in there because she’s trying to mitigate the disasters we affect upon every visit.
Except stray hair. That’s on you, ladies, and you know it.
7. Very Few Errands/Chores. With the ol’ ball and chain removed from the premises, one immediately concludes that an incredible amount of loafing is going to occur in tandem with an absolute famine of chores. This is true. But we never stopped to consider why those chores were being asked of us, we just assumed they eminated from some perverse need to torture men who look happy. We did not study their causes, nor acknowledge their completion’s effects.
So now, two days into our so-called renaissance, there is a dark brown obelisk in the litter box and the roof has collapsed; I can’t even imagine what those of you with children experience. The chores are all worse because we waited too long to do them, and we don’t have anyone giving us helpful deadlines and step-by-step instructions anymore. We used to call it “bossy,” now…we feel a little differently. Things are looking grim for our hero.
8. Domination of the Bed. Ah, at long last! It’s all mine! I think I’ll put my arm over there! And there! And my leg over here! Aaaahahahaha…ha…hm…can’t really get comfortable on the other side, I’m not used to it. Ugh, is this the pillow she uses? It’s terrible. Wow, I do not care for the way the sunlight hits me in the eyes from over here, either.
…All right, what was that noise? Easy, Andrew, it’s nothing. There’s nobody here, it’s just an empty room. A big, dark, cavernous, foreboding–what the hell was that noise, there it is again!
Okay, okay, I’ll sleep in the middle. Aaaah, right in the middle, all the space in the world…kind of feels weird, actually. The bed sort of slopes towards the middle, I feel like I’m napping on top of a freaking canyon. If only I could lay on this side, and someone else laid on the other si…
Damn it.
And, scene.
So there you see, Dear Reader, the cold hard truth. Married men like being married men, and any false-eyed wistfulness for bachelorhood is puffed-up talk.
Still, I take comfort knowing that Corelyn is off having fun with her mom and sister, joining them on their New England road trip. No doubt those three lawless rebels are out there right now, on the run from the law and living on a prayer.
And I’m still going to play a lot of Xbox. HaHA!
Great stuff. Really.
hahaha… to funny Rew!