Dear Sweet Tina

So the hubby has always had a girl following. He’s cute, he’s funny, he’s hyper, he’s outgoing. The girls love him. They Facebook him. They text him, They call him. They need their cars fixed and their kids chased and I think truly they just want to laugh, and he’s a big goober, so he makes them laugh. I am not bothered by that. My years of being the jealous type ended long ago. Hell, I’m the one with an arsenal of boy toys- the Cable Guy, the Pawn Star, the Coach, the Boyfriend, the Professor… so what kind of hypocrite would I be if I had a cow every time he said “hey sexy lady”?

image courtesy of pinow.com

image courtesy of pinow.com

The thing is after nearly two decades of loving one another through the ups and downs of life, I was completely secure that “hey sexy lady” never meant anything in his heart, and never led to naked encounters behind my back, so while I might get slightly annoyed when these girls beg him to dance at the bar, I never carried it around or let it truly get under my skin, but every now and again one of these fools gets a crush that’s too much for me to deal with. Is he naive when he leads these girls into fantasy land, or just a stupid jackass? The jury is still out… meanwhile, I’ve decided to write Tina a little note.

Tina is the friend of a friend of a friend, and she met him one night when I wasn’t feeling up to being at the bar. I like to go out from time to time, but I refuse to be one of those moms leaving her kids all the time so I can sit with the barflies. And with my lovely new health issues, I can’t even keep up with running the bars all the time, so sometimes he satisfies his need to play pool and drink beer without me. No harm in that- but Ms. Tina thought “now there’s a man I could sink my claws into.” So, I’ve decided to give her a few words of wisdom.

Dear Tina,

I hate to bust your bubble, but the reason he lets you text him all the time and he works to make you laugh is that on the night you met, you mentioned you needed a house to move into. His offer to let you move into his newly acquired rental property wasn’t chivalry. It was a way to get me off his back. See, I didn’t want to buy that ugly little house that needs a ton of work when I currently have a house in need of a ton of work. Go figure… So he thought if he hurried up and rented it out, I’d at least quit being angry that it’s eating up my home renovation budget, but if you really think you have something more to offer him, I give you my blessing, take him!

I can’t in good conscience leave it at that- I believe in full disclosure. I hate to buy a car only to find that the transmission doesn’t shift gears, so let me give you the Car Fax version of marriage with my man. The first six months will be the most amazing and exciting time of your life. You will feel like the luckiest girl in the world that he even looked your way. He will satisfy you in ways you never imagined. The neighbors will envy the amount of time you spend naked and he will clean the bathroom every day! The next twenty years you will waste trying to recreate those moments. Instead, you will be greeted by dirty underwear on the floor. He doesn’t do the edges when he mows the yard, and sometimes he takes days to go back and weed-eat around the trees. I’ve heard rumors that he once was a wonderful cook, but I have only seen him  use the stove 4 times in all these years. This small town has rubbed off on him and our weekends antiquing together have been replaced by fishing and hunting and processing his conquests. Instead of buying me trinkets for our home, he spends his extra money mounting deer heads to hang on the wall. He doesn’t do laundry, windows, floors, or check homework. He will however go to work, and for that one and only sacrifice he will expect endless praise and thanksgiving.

He will fart under the covers and try to trap you in the stench. He will chase you with big slimy boogars he freshly picked. He will poop with the bathroom door open, and at the end of that, he will think you should be in the mood to pass out a blow job. If you’re up for all that, by all means, give it your best shot, but I have to tell you, my years of thinking I would never ask him for child support or alimony ended the day you offered to let him live in that ugly little house with you. You see, I’ve spent two decades, the majority of my life, scrubbing his funk out of the tub, washing his socks, raising his daughters and his sons, fixing his supper, and building his home. I’ve tiled the back-splash and painted the walls and I gave up a promising career to be the CEO of this family, and if I have to take half of his paycheck just to remind him of that, well it’s only fair. I’ve spent years clipping coupons. I don’t get my nails done or buy new shoes. I went five years without cable TV just to be young and poor and happy with him, so if you’re gonna take him now that we can afford smart phones, know that I will be texting him to ask when HE is BUYING the next set of football cleats for our boys.

Speaking of our boys, I’d like to wish you the best of luck keeping up with them on the weekends. They will track mud through your freshly mopped floors, leave their Xbox games all over the place, and you won’t have the memory of their birth to keep you from wanting to kill them. But its our daughters you really need to beware of. See, they are just as fierce as I am, and while they may kill you with kindness, they are just building up to the one moment when they catch you face to face so they can cut you to the quick…

I hope I haven’t scared you off, frankly I look forward to sitting back and relaxing without him stomping around, hollering “what happened to this house today?” I’m going to stock the fridge with a few bottles of wine (something else he forbid me to do), buy some new shoes, and spend a few hours in a bubble bath. I figure by the time I polish off the wine and my toes wrinkle, you’ll be begging me to take him back, but be careful, this mama has a no return policy! You better think hard before you hit send on the next message to him…

Sincerely,

The Wife

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