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Friday, February 18, 2005

A wedding band isn't just for decoration, sweetheart

There's an urban myth that says many women find married men more attractive than single men. I must have missed that memo because I was taught married meant 'off the market'.

When I was single, married men were off limits, like shoplifting and tripping old ladies at the supermarket. It's just not done. Sure, there are times you really want that Target handbag or that Dillard's sweater, but do you steal it? No. Rude seventy year old women that ram your cart for no reason, accuse you of taking the last pound of ground beef on sale, and then cut in front of you in line are begging for retribution of some kind, but you don't trip her. You want to, but you don't.

I figure there are two types of women that like married men. Type One is the obvious 'Ho' at every bar, every social gathering, every public place. More than likely she's wearing something that accentuates her figure or her beauty, which I don't find fault in other than she uses these gifts against a vow made before God and loved ones. These women are easy to spot and would be laughable if they weren't so persistent. A married man's ego is usually the only thing stroked by these vixens unless the parking lot at the bar is poorly lit and easily accessible. These are the prototype from which Glenn Close's character in "Basic Instinct" was created.
You've heard of "Gay-dar", the ability to identify a gay man, well, I have "Ho-dar". Maybe I should have a red "H" on my chest - able to spot a hussy at twenty paces...brazen enough to point out fluzies in public. It's a gift and a curse.

Now Type Two, she's the one to watch. She's your neighbor, your Bunco pal, your co-worker down the hall that seems so nice. So very nice. She smiles at your family and coos at your children, but the whole time she is devising a way, planning for that moment of weakness. She's a snake in the proverbial grass of marital bliss. Like tornadoes, these women are unpredictable and have no method to their madness or target choice. The aftermath is similar as well. Broken homes and broken dreams for all involved.

It's too bad there isn't some scan that will colorize these trollops as they enter a room. Think of it as your airport detectors but a morality detector. As she saunters through the device, a loud voice announces "WHORE ALERT - WHORE ALERT" and the security guard can pull her aside for the black light marker on her forehead reading "HUSSY". This would, of course, require portable black lights preferably purse size.

Since it takes two to tango and I don't buy into the "She made me do it" excuse, accountability also falls onto the shoulders of the unfaithful husband. Unless there is a date rape drug involved, there is no excuse for infidelity. Do you hear me? No excuse. Nada. Call me old fashioned, call me a prude, but the same vows a husband repeats on his wedding day still hold true five, ten, twenty years later. Weight gain, menopause, depression - these are not reasons to screw around on your wife. Just because your wife's butt isn't the firm peach it was when you met her doesn't give you the right to commit adultery. And let's face it - what is it? Five, ten minutes of actual physical pleasure? Compare that to years of security, fidelity, and memories you've shared with your wife. Not even close. And if you don't believe women have had enough of your philandering, I just have two words for you - Loraina Bobbitt.

The institution of marriage has become less important every year. Vows that were once held sacred have less meaning than a renter's lease or a gym membership. Wedding bands that once indicated fidelity now mean 'Ladies, start your engine'. Guess it's what the world is coming to, but I don't have to like it.


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