2009-01-10 - 8:23 p.m.

IT'S POISON I TELL YOU

He's excruciatingly handsome. Tall, rugged, tan, with ice blue eyes and sparkling white teeth. His body is lean and muscular because he's a fireman, a big, strong, good looking fireman who is so defined and manly and handsome, you expect him to snatch off tear-away jeans and start gyrating for dollars. Yes, my neighbor's husband is a horny woman's "Weird Science" experiment. He looks like he was ripped from the cover of a Harlequin romance. He's the stuff 98% of female sexual fantasy is made of...

and she's tired of having sex with him.

You heard right. She calls it "wifely duties". It's old hat. Tired and overdone. The thing that stands between her and REAL happiness, which to her, is being left alone to watch the movie of her choice, untouched by those great big, bear paw hands that he uses to fight blazes and rescue ladies and babies and pluck kittens from trees. She is sick of his ass.

I'm keeping their kid tonight while they have a date. In the course of the conversation, she rattled off her expectations for the night and you'd have thought she was signed up to eat a turd. "Ohh, we'll probably go out to eat, then come home and I'll have to do thaaaat, you know...thaaaaaat, the wifely duties, just get it over with as quick as I can and then, then, I can enjoy myself. Maybe watch a movie!" I am standing there, 3 years sexless now, hopelessly, miserably, and unfortunately mired in never ending celibacy, and I'm listening to her prattle on with rolling eyes about what a chore it is to be naked with that Adonis who makes my knees weak.

Oh yes, the thought of volunteering a neighborly helping hand (or monkey) passed through my head, but my better judgement shoved it to the back of my mind immediately and I nodded and smiled at her, trying my hardest to hide my disbelief.

Marriage. It's the death knell, people. Marriage kills relationships, and ruins sex. The married people I know (save for my miracle-marriage-having parents) are all miserable. All of them. None of them feel satisfied by the person they swore their life to, and all of them feel they're missing the REAL fun in life, and *all* of them want to get away.
(None of them are doing it, but they're all thinking it.)

My sister says relationships have an expiration date, and I think she may be right. 5 years, then you start to get bored. Before you know it you hate their stupid guts and wish they would leave. Marriage hastens the demise, kids triple the speed of decomposition. It all goes bad in a hurry. I still remember clearly dreading him, and thinking I could go the rest of my natural life without ever seeing THAT particular penis ever again. Three years of celibacy and counting now, and even the most miserable, hormone infested episodes haven't changed my mind.

Marriage = bad idea. I may have to tattoo that on my face at some point, to be sure I don't forget.

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