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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on July 6th, 2011, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 12, Issue 18 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 12, Issue 18

'Window' size may vary

If the stars aren't aligned, it doesn't matter if you're ready

By ROB KRIDER


‘If you fix the sprinklers, it will sure help me feel relaxed tonight.’

I was at work the other day, sitting at my work desk, breathing in the work air, and hanging out with my co-workers, which meant that I was not doing any work whatsoever. My co-workers and I get together and jibber-jabber for hours on end and act as if we are solving all of the world’s problems, yet we never seem to get around to solving any of the problems at work, which is sort of our job. The real problem is that work problems are pretty boring, whereas the conversations my co-workers and I continually partake in are much more entertaining, since they usually revolve around one of two subjects: sex and/or a lack of sex.

After many hours at work, not working, listening to my peers, I’ve found that married men universally have the same complaint about their wives. Men think their wives don’t give up the sugar as often as men would prefer. Of course, most men don’t grasp the concept of moderation (which is why most of us have beer bellies). If men were in charge of doling out the “moments of tenderness” in a relationship (which would be 365/24/7, plus some), nobody would leave the house and earn a paycheck. There would be a society of people on government welfare claiming disability due to sex addiction. This is why the women traditionally decide when, where, and if sex will or will not happen. This is the balance of life. The ladies have all of the power.

As a whole, the women use their power wisely and do good things like populate the Earth. As a side benefit, they always have something to hand out during a birthday or an anniversary without ever having to set foot in a store. However, this power that women hold over their husbands can also be used for evil. Some women (my wife, whom I love, first and foremost) use the power of the suggestion for possible future intercourse to get things done around the house: “If you fix the sprinklers, it will sure help me feel relaxed tonight.” That’s all I need to hear, and I’m off to Home Depot, hoping to get there before they close, as if it is the only chance in hell that I might get a little something-something, because, well, chances are, it is the only chance.

Talking to my co-workers, I realized all married men go through this struggle to achieve more of a good thing at home more often. During this realization that I was not alone, I learned about the concept of “the window.” Every married man knows there is a window of opportunity when his wife will decide “if” she is going to grace her husband with a sliver of human contact. Some windows are a lot smaller than others. Some guys (liars) are looking through a sliding glass window, where others are staring through a peep hole. My friend described what his window entailed: “The kids have to be out of the house, so that is usually Friday or Saturday night. I have to have had a shower within two hours of the window, she had to have had a great week at work (not a day, but a whole week), the weather has to be between 76 and 83 degrees Fahrenheit, and there can’t be a new episode of any reality TV series on. If all of those planets align, then I might have a chance.” NASA has a larger window to launch the Space Shuttle through a Florida hurricane than my friend has to get together with his wife. He told me once, “Sometimes I think I could find a larger window with a complete stranger at a PTA meeting.”

I am fully immersed in the ways of the window. My window isn’t quite as small as my co-worker’s, but it is a window nonetheless, and most of the time I’m on the outside looking in. I have found that with these windows, even if you have a leg halfway in, they can quickly shut for no apparent reason. On a recent night at my house, I thought the window was wide open. I was showered, my face was cleanly shaved, the sprinklers were in perfect working order, the trash was taken out, and everything was looking good. Then, while I was using my patented backrub move, my wife got a text and found out that her cousin in Sacramento got pink slipped from her teaching job. BAM! The window was slammed shut, locked, and the storm shutters were up. There would be no tenderness at my house that night. Damn you, Sacramento School District!

Men don’t have windows. We have an open door policy. We are like 7-11, absolutely always open for business, even on Christmas morning. There has never been a moment in my life I can remember not wanting to make love because of some ridiculous outside influence. Some women are using the economy as an excuse not to have sex. A nuclear disaster six blocks from my house wouldn’t deter me. Nothing can distract me from the goal of intimacy with my wife. If I was just about to get together with my sweetheart and my phone rang and somebody told me that my dog had been hit by a car, it wouldn’t stop me for a second. Of course, it’s easy for me, because I know that 10 seconds later I could take care of whatever problem came up anyway.

Rob rented the newest Channing Tatum movie for his wife, hoping it may open up a few windows at his house.




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