Every girl loves a good romance. Every guy Sunday football, or baseball, or hockey and hey, what about that incredibly boring fishing show that crowds the TV on Saturday afternoons.
She wants to cuddle. He wants another beer and ‘hey, honey can you bring some snacks too?’
She wants some time together. He jumps up at the sound of the doorbell and loudly proclaims, ‘they’re here’ as he lets in Bill, Bob, Jeff and that guy he found laid out behind the dumpster last week reeking of cheap wine.
She wants to feel needed, wanted. He assures her she is, and can she call the pizza place and have four large – everything but the kitchen sink pies – delivered as only she can?
She wonders if she’s losing her appeal. He loudly cheers another win along with Bill, Bob, and Jeff as the dumpster guy leans against the counter leering, muttering in his whiskey soaked voice, ‘how you doin?’
She mans broom, mop and pail as He revisits plays with Bill, Bob, and Jeff on the porch while the dumpster guy queries whether he can sleep in the hammock out back.
She shuts and locks the door as He starts in surprise and tries unsuccessfully to get back in.
She cuddles the cat, a glass of wine on the bed stand beside her as she watches a really emotional, romantic chick flick. He shudders in the cold breeze as he pulls a tarp up to his shoulders and growls at the dumpster guy’s loud snores.
Moral of this story? “Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.” – Candace Bushnell