Wife and Books

Your spouse wife should never read your book, or your blog either. It is fraught with danger, at every turn.

Marriage as it is has enough problems on its own. You don’t take the trash out, you do it too early before she is done with the kitchen. The fence she has been asking you to mend has been mendless (I know there is no such word, but hey…).

Your girlfriend reads your books is fine, magnificent even . But girlfriends change when the “I do” come in. Which in some desperate-hair-pulling moments you wonder if you heard it right and if she actually said “Adoi..” You were of course to excited to have captured that Kodak moment correctly in your memory and never can be sure.

Girlfriend is different, see: when you were still wearing the tight fitting jeans and were trying to woo her, you could jump over the jalopy, whip out your comb, flick it across your Brylcreamed hair while glancing in the side view mirror and open the door for her to step out, all that in a jiffy and in a seamless, poetic motion. Now she comes between you and the third repeat of that Manchester United vs Liverpool match on the television you tell her ass is great but not transparent.

It is not that you love her any less. You do, always did, but well, you are not twenty something anymore and things change.

Your wife should never read your books or your blog: For instance, you wrote a nice story about a woman and her cat.

“Who is that woman, how come I don’t know her?”

“Honey, sweetie, my sugar coated flu pill, that woman is a figment of my imagination.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you men, you are all alike.”

Well, you wrote a clichéd poem comparing the landscape to a woman’s long hair. Your wife likes to keep them short and tidy, just the way you like them, but questions will come.

Let your wife read your books or blog at your peril.