A lovely girl Lorraine and her beau Chuck asked if I would MC their wedding. I have said yes and the following is the speech I intend to give them on “marital advice”.
Now, I’ve been married for either twenty or thirty five years of marriage; you see after oh about six weeks of wedded bliss I lost count.
Some of those years were happy, some with the same woman; some without the use of gun play, many without the use of foreplay.
I’ve carried the scars of marriage, on my bum (due to a horrific incident with a red-hot curling iron held in the hands of an unsympathetic wife).
What am I getting at with this mildly exaggerated introduction you ask?
Well I am showcasing my right to advise young married couples about ‘tuning into one another’….cause I’ve paid my dues.
The following scenario should help young men better understand the subtle nuances of the minor thinking species named “woman.”
Let’s say there is a newly wed couple, Bobby (real name is Cooter) and Opal. They are doing the Friday night thing watching a movie that isn’t very good.
At the movies climax (hope I’m not getting ahead of myself here), Opal says to her drowsy and droopy Bobby.
“My sweet Bobby, I think I’ve had enough TV, guess I’ll go upstairs and soak in a tub. Why don’t you…um …uh… come upstairs and join me in the boudoir in about an hour or so?”
Boobie takes the movie off and immediately turns to Showcase to watch ‘Sex in the City’…the car and the backyard too.
After about forty minutes of watching leather clad people staple, stomp and paddle each other senseless (in sensitive places), Bob decides to go upstairs to see what it was that his shiny Opal wanted.
She has left the ensuite door slightly ajar, and he peeks in to see his shimmering Opal lounging sensually and lazily, enveloped in bubbles, in a room lit by sweetly scented candles. Crooning some ridiculous Latino psycho babble about love and commitment is that Latino weenie, Ricky Iglesias.
Bobby wonders why she can’t listen to something sane and sensible like Ozzie Osbourne but quietly leaves the ensuite and plops down on the canopied bed. There, he contemplates what in hell is going on with his yummy love licorice.
Let me explain to Boobie and other men less in touch with themselves than myself, what are the true dynamics of this potentially explosive situation.
When your sensual moon pie soaks longingly, achingly in a scented bath with soft candles flickering, rapt and wrapped in lavish bubbles, with romantic music softly crying for intimacy where there is none… and with a sheer negligee hanging on the towel rack…..it means…and I must be delicate here because I hate to offend…but it means that when Opal exits that tub and enters the boudoir hopefully bursting out of her skimpy negligee that she needs to go to Wonderland.
She wants to ride the steepest fastest, bumpiest roller coaster they have; she wants to go on the Double-Looper; she wants to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl front and backwards;she wants to then go to the bumper cars and have a few erotically jarring collisions; sure hope Bobby is insured ‘cause he’ll need to watch out for rear-enders.
Lastly, your glimmering Opal will want to go down the slippery water-slide, the Zoomba Flume better known as Wet and Wild!
So, newly weds, men… and you too Chuck, tune into the subtle sights and sounds that resonate within your glittering Lorraine and take her to Wonderland or better yet, to Hespeler, where citizens are too old to be tempted by too young to resist.
Chuck, Lorraine, hope my first draft this meets with your approval, yada yada, Hags