MARRIAGE......the real story

What the movies don’t tell you..........

(something cute that I read this weekend - I laughed, and I thought you might too! Anything sound familiar?)

So, are you ready to get married?” I asked my best friend, David, as he, my other best friend, Miri and I sat down to eat lunch at a sidewalk café in Beverly Hills. I had flown to California for somewhat of a last hurrah, since he was the final one of us to tie the knot and would be a married man by the month’s end.
David looked puzzled. “I’m ready,” he snapped as he spread a napkin over his lap. “I bought an extra pillow.”
Miri and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We could tell that our little friend had some very lofty ideas about sharing your life with someone as if you were the only one that mattered; just like a man.
“Hannah’s the nice partner,” David explained about his betrothed. “I’m the bossy one. She understands that. We have that understanding.”
“None of us is the nice partner in our relationships,” Miri smirked. “All three of us are the mean one. But that doesn’t matter. Things still change.”
“Like you might as well get rid all your CDs now, because in two weeks, she’ll think that they all suck,” I said.
“And you should carry roughly five dollars in quarters with you at all times so you can call her from wherever you are, or better yet, get a cell phone with lots and lots of minutes,” Miri added.
“And instead of falling asleep to music, it will be white noise,” I quipped. “Women need that. I have a fan.”
“I have a wave machine. Happy hour will be a thing of the past. There’s something you do instead now,” Miri inserted, “It’s called dinner at home.”
“And after you come home from work or after five o’clock,” I stated, “you need to ask her if you want to go back out again.”
“Unless she sends you to the store,” Miri mentioned.
“Unless she sends you to the store,” I confirmed.
“Forget about being the first one to get the mail anymore,” Miri said. “You’ll never get unhandled mail again.”
“And if you find jelly or ice cream on the remote control,” I insisted, “it’s a totally natural thing.”
“After you get married, you’ll never be as funny at home as you are at work,” Miri added.
“And when she laughed at your jokes before, she was faking it,” I said.
“Once you’ve told a story, you need to retire it,” Miri announced. “Because every time she hears a story more than once, she’ll hate you a little more, and a little more.”
“And never read to her from a book or magazine article aloud,” I declared.” “She’ll never think it’s as interesting as you do.”
“If she gets sick,” Miri said, “You have to hold her and clean it up and then kiss her afterward.”
“But other than that instance, if you’re initiating the kiss, you need to brush your teeth first,” I added.
“Her sexual obligation to you expires in two years,” Miri stated. “And should she decide to oblige you after that, you should be very, very grateful.”
“And you’re never allowed to say, ‘boink’, ‘do it’, or ‘get it on’, I informed David. . “Or wake her up in the middle of the night when you’re…….overwhelmed by your……..man desire.”
“You could get suspended for that,” Miri whispered.
“If she’s not talking to you, like when she’s reading a book or watching TV, that means she’s BUSY,” I nodded. “And you need to be quiet.”
“And when you feel the need to go to the bathroom, you should ask her if she needs to go first,” Miri announced.
“And if there’s some potato chips or cookies in a bag, don’t eat them,” I said. “She might not be done with them, and may want them later at some point. Just because there’s food in the house doesn’t mean it’s fair game.”
“And if she asks you if you want to share a dessert at a restaurant, that means she wants some,” Miri added. “And it’s in your best interests to say yes.”
“And when you’re at your parents’ house and she yawns for the first time, it means it’s time to go,” I said.
“If the phone rings, and you don’t think it’s for you,” Miri added, “you still have to pick it up anyway.”
“If she comes home and there’s a drunk guy on the couch, and another one drinking beer and you’re watching cable, expect to be in big trouble,” I informed him.
“If she buys a bar of soap that isn’t white, it is not for you,” Miri stated.
“And if she asks you to do several things, it’s not okay to just do the last thing she said because that’s the only one you remember,” I asserted.
“Be honest with yourself; set the alarm for the time the Real You will get up, not the Ambitious You, because the Ambitious You doesn’t really exist,” Miri added.
“At night, if she takes the covers, just get used to being cold,” I stated. “It’s more important for her to be warm. A simple draft can render her infertile, and then your family name will die with you.”
“And that’s selfish,” Miri added.
“That’s selfish,” I agreed.
David stared at us for a long, long time, trying to take it all in. As I studies his face, I got the impression as he furrowed his brow and crinkled his mouth that he was about to cry. Suddenly I panicked. Had we said too much? Had we been too honest? Had we scared him horribly? Was he thinking about jumping ship? I looked at Miri and realized that she was looking at me with the same awful look on her face that I had on mine.
What had we done? We were the mean ones, after all!
“Maybe you’re right,” he finally said, “Maybe I’m not so ready. How could I be so stupid? What am I thinking? Am I OUT OF MY MIND?!
Miri and I didn’t know what to say. We just sat there, horrified, our mouths hanging open, getting ready to protest. WHAT HAD WE DONE?
“I don’t have any extra pillowcases!” David proclaimed as he stomped his foot, and then looked at us, smiling wickedly. “Gotcha!”