So You Wanna Be My Wife? Part I

I have stated many times before that I don’t plan on getting married. It is so much easier being alone than it is to be married. Now you are probably asking yourself, how the hell would I know what it is like to be married? Frankly, I don’t. I have no idea what being married entails. I only go off of what movies and television tells me about marriage. But let’s say I do get married. Let’s pretend that swines decided to fly one day. Go a step further and say Hell freezes over. If something like that happens, then yes, I will get married. If I do get married, I have a few guidelines that my wife needs to follow. If not my wife, then the woman who plans to be my wife needs to follow. They are simple rules and I want to make it perfectly clear that I am serious. If you cannot meet the standards I list, then don’t ask to buy me a drink or flirt my me while you drink your fruity alcoholic beverage.


1. You have to cook.

Easy. I don’t plan on being at the same job I am at till the day I die but if the cards that are dealt in front of me never change, then I will probably be at the same place till I lay peacefully in a wooden box, six feet under your dancing feet. Being that I work in an establishment where I cook all day, I have no desire to turn on another oven when I arrive home. Don’t even ask about the microwave or grabbing some take out. I just wanna get home and nurse a beer. You need to grab that apron I bought you for our first anniversary and walk your tiny ace into the kitchen and prepare me a meal. I don’t mean a can of soup or a bag of ramen noodles. I want real food. I am a man. I want steak. I want potatoes. When I say potatoes, you best know what I am talking about. Hell, we’re married. You should know what kind of potatoes I like. If you can’t and don’t get that right, I will gladly buy you the bus ticket so you can go back to living with you mother and you two succubus’ can talk about how horrible of a man I really am. I am sorry, sweetie. Suck it up. Cause we all know once you get married, there is no more sucking.

You cook and I will be happy. You prepare me a meal fit for a king. I don’t expect you to spoon feed it to me. You’ll have to do that when I am on my death-bed. Remember, to death till we part? That is a good loophole for the lazy guy like me. Cooking is essential for our relationship. You are a woman and if school taught me anything, it’s a gene you’re born with. Women are born to cook. They are born with countless recipes in their head. Not to mention, the tradition of passing down family recipes. How many guys rave about the meatloaf recipes they got from dear old granny? Not many. Learn your place. Know that a kitchen is like the first bedroom in a marriage. If you want, I will supply you with a floor mat. I don’t want your legs to get tired. After cooking, you have dishes to wash. Really? Were you expecting me to do it? that’s a load of garbage. I was always taught that if you made the mess, it’s your responsibility to clean it up. I am sure you heard the same thing.

2. Doing the dishes.

While I am all for movement of woman’s lib, I want to make a strong point to all you people who don’t have a stick and marbles between their legs. All your life, your griped about the man is holding you back. You protest and want to have the same, equal rights as a man does. We gave you the right to vote. We let you have a job. We let you have opinions. You want to do everything we do. When it comes to hard labor, you shimmy away and watch what little soaps are left on network television. Now it’s your turn to suck it. It’s your time to suck it up and be a man. For me, a woman has two places in this world. You should either be in the kitchen or waist-high to a man. The main reason you should be doing the dishes and countless other household chores is cause it’s in your blood. Women are meant to breed, cook, clean, and treat the man like he should be – like a king. Oh, I forgot pleasing a man.

It’s crazy to think about a man actually washing a dish. Maybe if he’s from Mexico and this is his life long dream. Maybe all the gardening jobs were taken. He needs to make a living. But in time, he’ll learn the American dream. He’ll wait patiently for his wife to jump the border and make her way to him. Then, while she’s busy washing the dishes (like a good wife should), he’ll be in the other room, drinking his cheap beer and watching Telemundo’s broadcast of Lucha Libre.

3. What you consider trash, I call them keepsakes.

When people get married, they don’t focus on the real important issue. A woman feels it is her responsibility to clear away of all things childish. All items the man owns, we’ll be locked in the garage or tossed out with the trash. She’ll claim she is trying to make the place more homey. But in reality, she is killing you. Your things are just toys, random things that are taking up space. A house to woman can never have too many throw pillows. Candles are essential. Picture frames will be around you. Every direction you turn, you’ll see one. From the moment you’re married, the past life you once led is gone. You are not the man she married. You are now a piece of furniture.

If I am to ever fall into the trap of marriage, my wife will know her place. She’ll know that whatever I bring along with me will be there till I die or decide to call it quits. Chances are, she’ll call it quits first. Be better that way. Just proves I win and we all know men win everything. I will keep my collection of shot glasses. I won’t put them in storage or put them in the basement, far from virgin eyes to see. Look, lady. We got married. You knew I was a drunk well before we said our vows. I was under the impression that’s why we got married. If I can hold my liquor, I should obviously be able to handle you. I don’t want you to think that I save everything in the world. I am not a hoarder. My ‘trash’ has value to me. Your things are just trash. A house doesn’t need a woman’s touch in style. The only woman’s touch it needs is clearing the dust off the couch, mopping the floor, and pushing around a vacuum. My keepsakes will be shown off with pride. I don’t want to have to dig around in boxes to find things. Boxes are meant for more meaningless things, like our wedding album and old love letters.

4. My wallet is not a cookie jar.

I am old fashion. You’re a woman. Your job is to stay at home and clean it. You don’t need a job. If you really want one, I suggest a job made for a woman. Do something like being a librarian. While I work and make the money, I have every right to control the money. If you need food, then come find me. Ask me for the money. We will not share a bank account, nor will I give you access to my account. My pin number is like every dirty secret I have. A secret. You will never pry it from me. I’ll give you an allowance and money for groceries.  Don’t ask for any more. I work, I bring home the bacon. My money is not for you to squander away with superficial things (haircut, make up, perfume medicine , etc…). If you want those things, get a job. Hell, run a lemonade stand for all I care. Just don’t turn tricks on the street. That’s degrading.