My husband just left for Toronto.
Yesterday, he received a call from his friend Jeremy. I could hear a bit of the conversation.
It started out like this “Hey, I’m heading to Toronto tomorrow with the boys.” I assumed “the boys” referred to his children – both considerably under age. The conversation continued, but I couldn’t hear too much – more like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Emile said “Why, what is happening?”
The response? “murmur, murmur . .. . Motocross something . . . Skydome . . . murmur. . . extra ticket. . . . then probably HEAD TO THE RIPPERS!” At this point I realized that “the boys” are referring to his of age brothers, not his children.
The Rippers? That’s the Strippers for those of you who may not know the current stripping vernacular. Jeremy continued to give him more details. Emile and I had nothing really planned this weekend except using up the 50% off blackened bananas I had purchased to make bread or something. But who’s kidding who? That is one of those things that husbands help with because they love their wives. Not something that is a good enough excuse to miss motocross and naked ladies for. I can imagine the conversation ending with ‘Sorry Jeremy, I’ll be home baking Cardamom Banana Bread with my wife. It’s our anniversary of the first banana bread we ever ate together.” Emile’s phone would never ring again.
I need to insert my opinion on going to the strippers here. It’s not my idea of a good time. I have actually gone to the strippers before – both men and women. Men – very, very, very uncomfortable for me – I felt like I had invaded their privacy – and then they invade yours. Um. Get away from me!
The female strippers; I was with a large group of guys who were celebrating a 21st birthday and they had dared me to go. Being fairly young and bold, I went. Glad I did – now I know what is behind the curtain. It’s not that spectacular. The women dance their number, collect their money, send some extra raunchiness to the groom-to-be or the birthday boy, and then go back stage. Do they actually want to be there? I don’t know. I don’t think it would be a first career choice for anyone.
Do I have a problem with my husband occasionally going to the strippers? No. Men need time away from us – we can be annoying. And what better to do than enjoying what they enjoy? Emile likes women, why shouldn’t he enjoy watching them? It would be sad for me if he didn’t like looking at women. I am a woman. I want him to look at me and think I am attractive. And honestly, from that one night I saw the strippers, he’ll be coming home and be very thankful for what he has already.
Some people say it is cheating. I don’t think so. I think there is a line. I call it the “Living Room Line”: If I came home and found a naked women giving him a lap dance (ie, touching him and vice versa), not okay. If I came home and found Emile kissing a clad women in the living, not okay. If I came home and found Emile watching a naked woman dancing on TV, I would think it weird, but that would be okay with me. So, if watching naked women dance is okay with me in our living room, it’s okay in a strip club in Toronto.
So, back to the story . . . While Jeremy was asking him whether he wanted to go, Emile and I were locking eyes. Mine were saying “Go, I’ll save the banana bread making until you get home.” His were saying “RIPPERS!!”. Well, no, actually his eyes were saying “Is it alright with you if I go? I’d like to see motocross and spend some time with the boys. And make the banana bread without me.” We nodded.
And off Emile went.
March 23rd, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Trust, Eye Communication and the “No Touching Rule”. Have fun in Toronto, honey bunches.
PS. We don’t actually have a banana bread anniversary people. Seriously, get a grip.
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