I have no desire to get married at this time. Maybe later I will. Maybe if I find a cheap and willing lady I will get married. But I will never find one, at least one that is willing. It’s been a while since I’ve been on those Russian bride sites. When I do get married and my wife is purchased for a few bucks, I will be enforcing a few set of rules. She better follow them. She will be my wife. She’ll be my property. I paid good money for her and I am not taking my chances if the thing doesn’t come with a 30 day money back guarantee.
I have discussed twice before about what rules my wife will need to follow when she enters my house. If you haven’t read them, I suggest you read them. You never know. You might wanna be my wife and if that happens, I want you to be ready. The rules can be read here and here. Read up. I’ll wait. While I wait, make me some coffee. You know, for practice. Hurry though. I judge women like a mother of an Olympian judges her kid.
I will have none of that. I can’t deal with crying women. It drives me crazy. Honestly, I don’t know what to do. It’s Greek to me! You cry for all sorts of reasons and I am not going to waste my time trying to decipher why the Hell you’re crying. It’s not something I am good at and not something I care to learn. If you wanna cry, find your mom. Find your girlfriends. Drown your sorrows with the lesbian bartender at the hip club down the road. I don’t care whose shoulder you lean on as long as it isn’t mine. My shoulder is not built for tears.
If it’s not crying, you’re giving me the silent treatment. Guess I did something to piss you off. How upsetting. I upset you. Chances are, you upset me first. That’s why I am being a dick to you. If you didn’t come running to me with your women issues, I wouldn’t need to snap back at you and tell you that the dress you’re wearing is 4 sizes too small for you. You can’t stuff yourself into a dress the same way you stuff those Krispy Kreme donuts into your mouth. Don’t ask me if something makes you look fat. It’s not the jeans. It’s not the top. It’s the rack of lamb you ate earlier that is doing that to you. Lay off the food. Lay off the ice cream and no matter how sexy you think you look, Christian Grey will not want to drill his manliness into your women parts.
While I shouldn’t really complain about the silent treatment, it does lead to other issues and other unnecessary emotions. What am I saying? All your emotions are unnecessary. Just do me a favor. Sit still. Smile and nod when need be. Be a good wife and get me drinks and food when I ask and if you do have something to say, it better be ‘yes sir’.
To reiterate myself and to make it clear what I expect out of you when you become my wife. You are not allowed to cry. Not for any reason. I don’t even want tears shed during a viewing of Steel Magnolias. Don’t pout. Don’t give me the silent treatment because you think I was a pig or something foolish. For one thing, when man talks, women listen. Women obey . Don’t ever try to pull some women lib on me. Just because we gave you the right to vote, doesn’t put you on some pedestal for all to worship.
10. Equal Rights
There will be no equal when we get married. I am man. I make the rules. I make the decisions in the home. You are not going to try and spruce up our home with the meaningless crap and shitty decor you see on Pinterest. If you want to spruce up the place, checkout the Home Depot website for some exciting projects. You can never have too many decks. It’s hard labor but women already say how real labor is the hardest thing ever, so building a few decks shouldn’t be an issue. If it is an issue, then I suggest you refer to the first rule and main rule of my household. You don’t have equal rights. Speak when I tell you and don’t try to tell me your views. I won’t listen. A woman with an idea is about as important as the ‘poke’ interaction on Facebook.
You will never be a man. Not because of the penis thing but because you’re a women and women are and always will be subpar to men. Sorry, ladies. You’ll never be like us. Even Chaz Bono tried and well… frankly, look at the mess.
I don’t want women to think of me as an asshole. I am not that. I am just a guy with views that I think have been overlooked. Men are the bread winners. Women are the bread bakers. Stay in the kitchen, it’s where you’re kneaded. See how I did that play on words? Kneaded? Bread baker? Yeah, not only am I a guy and the one with the answers, I am also pretty effin’ funny. Back to the subject of equal rights. I want a wife. I don’t want an equal. If I was wanting an equal, I would’ve married myself but that’s just silly. You can’t marry yourself. Since marrying yourself is out of the question, I guess I will marry someone of the less intelligent class. I am speaking of women. I just called them stupid. Yeah, low blow. (ahem…) When we say our vows, we are joined together forever…or until you try to be at my level and crave some sort of equality. If that happens, the marriage is off. You can run off and vote or hold some manly job. Go prove to the world that you’re the same as the men in the world when we all know that you will never be anywhere close to it. Protest, become a hippy liberal. I don’t care. As much as you complain and protest like the Westboro Church, you’ll never be anywhere close to a man. You’ll always be seen as a woman. You’ll be seen as someone who can’t achieve goals without the assistant of a man. Sorry, ma’am. You’ll never fully experience true equal rights. You can vote and you can hold a job but to be compared to a man because of talent or intelligence, will never happen. You can try to coax people into thinking that men and women are equal but no one will buy your sob story. You will never be a man. Not because of the penis thing but because you’re a women and women are and always will be subpar to men. Sorry, ladies. You’ll never be like us. Even Chaz Bono tried and well… frankly, look at the mess.
11. The Man Cave
All men like to have a place they can call their own. We need a place to unwind and be manly. A place where we can drink beer, smoke a cigar, and watch porn without the worrying if you or your uninvited mother-in-law will walk in on us while we’re clutching our manhood within our wrists. Not something I want people to see. That is why we need a man cave. We don’t need you to invade and make the space “ours” by throwing in some shitty art or something you saw on Rachael Ray. Let us have something. You get the kitchen to cook and clean. Why can’t we have a place where we don’t have to cook or clean? We just want to watch sports, violent movies, smoke, drink, and degrade women. Sure we can do that elsewhere but some people frown on the idea of degrading women.
Respect our domain. Do not enter in the man cave for any reason. Stay elsewhere. Sew something. Bake something. Vacuum something. Do anything you were bred to do but enter into our man cave. I don’t know what to tell you or where you should go. Make yourself useful and use that arts and crafts section of your brain to make a velvet rope to keep you and the other women out.
Obey those few rules and our marriage will work. It’s only 11 simple rules. I bet there are other men out there who have more rules and I bet their rules are even crazier than my rules. I shouldn’t call them rules. I should call them guidelines. A few things we should discuss before I put a ring on it. I want you to be okay with what you’ll be walking into. This marriage will work. I know it can. I will do everything I can to stay out of your way so you can do what you’re told to make sure I never need to lift a single finger. But if you don’t follow the guidelines, I will raise the back of my hand if you shy away from my guidelines to being my wife. So what do you say?
Will you marry me?
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