A Marital Interlude: A Conversation With My Wife.

Before We Begin:  I have the nagging feeling I posted this somewhere else, but for the middle-aged-life of me, I have no idea where. My apologies if you’ve read this before. Just try to pretend this is the first time. Works for my wife…


I deal with marital strife at work all the time; arguably, couples fight more on vacation than when they’re at home, and so I often take it upon myself to intercede.

What makes me think I’m qualified to do so? Looking at my own home life, I have no idea…

To begin, I love my wife. After twenty-plus years of marriage, she’s one of the few people alive who “gets” me.

To clarify, she doesn’t understand me (at all), but she gets me.

MY WIFE, KNOWN TO THE PEOPLE WHO READ MY BLOG – ALL FIVE OF ‘EM – AS “VAMPIRELOVER”:  (Walking into the living room.) Hey, Skippy! (She then proceeded to flick my ear -hard.)

Yes, she calls me “Skippy”. And she sometimes beats me – in a loving way, I’m guessing.

ME:  You’re a real pill, honey.

VL:  A “pill”? Listen, “sugar dumpling”, what are you, seventy?

Rather than answer, I waited until she looked away and grabbing one of our dog’s beloved toys/love partner, a giant stuffed dog that has seen much better days, I retaliated. My attack was successful: our dog’s “baby” struck my wife right in the ole kisser. Fortunately, it had been softened after hours of licking – and doggie love, a fact that was not lost on my beloved bride.


ME:  Now hang on, sweetie –

VL:  (Lowering her voice an octave.) You hang on, you’re dead!

As many a husband can attest, my attempt to infuse logic into a marital battle was doomed form the start.

But being a husband and a poor dumb bastard, I kept going anyway.

ME:  Hear me out… you struck first, so that was a “tit”. I struck back, so that was a “tat”. If you keep going that will be another “tit”…

VL:  So?

ME:  So then you’ll have two tits.

As you can imagine, my humor fell as flat as Jennifer Lawrence walking a red carpet at an awards show. My vampire-loving-wife continued to seethe with rage and I paid a high price later on in the form of a mega-extreme purple nurple

(For the uninitiated: a purple nurple is the act of grabbing and twisting a nipple of another person, one’s self, and even occasionally other mammals, though I don’t recommend attempting a cross-species purple nurple)

that left me ruing the day I emerged screaming from my mother’s womb.

Ain’t modern love grand?

See you in the lobby, kids…


About The Hook

Husband. Father. Bellman. Author of The Bellman Chronicles. Reader of comic books and observer and chronicler of the human condition. And to my wife's eternal dismay, a mere mortal and non-vampire. I'm often told I look like your uncle, cousin, etc. If I wore a hat, I'd hang it on a hat rack in my home in Niagara Falls, Canada. You can call me The Hook, everyone else does.
This entry was posted in Hotel Life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to A Marital Interlude: A Conversation With My Wife.

  1. “To clarify, she doesn’t understand me (at all), but she gets me.” I believe this is a comment more suited to be said by the females, thus “..he doesn’t understand me (at all), but he gets me”.

  2. NotAPunkRocker says:

    Ouch and aww, y’all sound perfect together 🙂

  3. From where I see, you totally deserved the purple nurple if the dog toy was ewwy with slobber. If it wasn’t, then that might have been a bit of over reaction to getting hit in the face with a dog toy. But it does sound like she’s gotta “tat” coming! 😀

  4. Need to perfect the duck and cover?

  5. curvyroads says:

    You had me at ‘but for the middle-aged-life of me…’! 🙂

    Oh and OUCH!!!!

  6. See how easy? Only 28 to go.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s