Rock walls

Some impassioned exchanges this afternoon re-emphasized the disparity in at least one of our top (non)priorities, and brought very close to the surface my belief that I will never be truly happy --whatever that means, in addition to 'something that I'm definitely NOT'-- with my wife. That doesn't suggest that I sense any assurance of being happy with someone else, or even being able to be happy with MYSELF, for starters, because I don't. But I really don't see anything resembling a path toward real happiness in this marriage, even a path that's covered with some undergrowth and just needs a good weed-whacking. Were it not for the kids and my paycheck, I'd almost certainly be referring to my "wife," to her in that title, in the past tense.

Tonight as I drove alone down one of the canyons, I thought at length of how easy it would be to slam my car into the face of one of the cliffs that stand just a few yards from the shoulder, and make it look like a slip-off in the snow. My ridiculously-bloated life insurance policy would take care of everyone comfortably.

Accountability

Several nights ago, I had a dream in which the entire management team at my company, including spouses, was on vacation. Seems that it was at Cabo, but visually didn't strike me as what I've seen of Cabo. Somehow I ended up going through the contents of my wallet with our head accountant/controller. It was more in the spirit of show & tell than that of an audit. Interspersed among the dozens and dozens of photos of my kids were occasional wallet-sized shots from your typical Victoria's Secret catalogue. "Hey, nothing wrong with a little Victoria's Secret -- nothing 'showing,' you know..." I'd shrug as I'd continue, unfazed, through the stack. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was disappointed.

Monogamy isn't easy, naturally

This article makes the interesting case that just because there may in fact be scientific merit to the old assertion that monogamy isn't natural, "natural isn't necessarily good."

Is King Benjamin op-eding for the LA Times now?

Bad news for bikinis

A study by the University of Leeds in England found that women who reveal 40 percent of their skin attract the most men. "Any more," said researcher Dr. Colin Hendrie, "and the signal changes from 'allure' to one indicating general availability and future infidelity."

Just ask Julianne Hough, who says "Modest is hottest."

My wife's dream

My wife was pretty angry at me first thing this morning. I asked her why, since I hadn't yet been up long enough to upset her. She narrated the following dream to me last night: "We were shopping together in an upscale department store, and I turned and you were walking around in a thong, erect, taking pictures of everybody. And then suddenly you were in Las Vegas, and although I was still in the store, I could see what you were doing, still walking around in your thong, taking pictures of people. But there was more stuff that you were doing, bad stuff, and although I couldn't see it, everywhere I walked around the store, the cashiers would hand me printed receipts listing everything you were doing in Vegas, as it was happening, like real-time field reports." I suggested to her (and not in jest) that these might represent angels recording my acts in the Book of Life.

Condom Row

Late last night, while looking for a hair product with my daughter at the Target pharmacy, we passed a couple comparing spermicidal lubricants. He was somewhat ordinary looking, while she was predominantly Asian with a fair Caucasian strain, and smoldering hot. My thoughts of the ensuing while were, "They're going to be having sex tonight. More specifically, she's going to be having sex tonight, and probably within a matter of minutes from now. I wonder what she looks like naked? I wonder what she feels like naked? I wonder how she and I would feel, naked, together?"

My boss's son's girlfriend --a pleasant enough face but a breathtakingly statuesque, not waifish at all but instead a strong-fit 5'9" figure-- wore a dress to our company Christmas party tonight that had me failing to focus on much else, including my beautiful wife, whose own body is large and aching with our forthcoming son, any time she entered my field of vision. Hard to describe this dress, except that it was more or less similar to those shown here, except of a heavier, winter-weight knitted fabric, fitted at the waist and tighter on the chest and trunk, and barely reached mid-thigh. And the heels were almost vertical, which tended to accentuate everything as intended. When we got home, I said to my wife:

"I need to apologize to you. Tonight there were lots of women dressed for the party and showing a lot more than they normally do at work, and, to put it succinctly, I didn't do a very good job of averting my eyes. In fact, I didn't really try."

"Yeah, there was a lot of cleavage there. I didn't avert my eyes either, and wondered how these girls really felt about showing so much of themselves."

"Well, it wasn't exactly the cleavage I was noticing, and your thoughts when you're not averting your eyes are probably a bit different from my thoughts under those circumstances."

"So you were checking out there legs and wondering what they'd feel like in your hands."

"Something along those lines, yes."

Sigh. Nod. "Yeah, I know."