She Said: It used to be that the night before a young woman got married, her mother would have a talk with her where she’d explain some of her wifely duties. Mainly, what was expected in the bedroom.
He Said: So what was some of the stuff your mom explained to you? Please don’t let it be how to do the “Backwards Angry Puppet,” or my image of that small, sweet lady will forever be tainted. GAH, I said taint.
She Said: Please. My nana taught me that one. But most women don’t need that talk because we’re marrying at an older age than our moms and, well, because we’ve had sex.
He Said: Third date sex.
She Said: It was way later than that.
He said: I don’t count phone calls about where I was picking you up as dates, no matter how much I was masturbating.
She Said: Look, we may not need the sex talk, but we could’ve used a talk of a whole different nature.
He Said: That you can now wear sweatpants and bathrobes for the rest of your life?
She Said: Nope… although that does seem to be my accidental mandate. That your husband will eventually wear something that embarrasses you in public.
He Said: I’m a good dresser, lots of people say so.
She Said: Not when you go to the gym. Literally, from head-to-toe, you are a nightmare.
He Said: But you don’t go to the gym with me, so who cares? You know one person who goes to my gym, and when we see each other, we never make eye contact. It’s like two men from church who run into each other at a whore house. And that’s exactly how it should be because we’re awkward, adult males.
She Said: Why would you not assume he’s embarrassed by the way you look? Let’s start with your headband… that you wear around your forehead like an extra in a “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” video.
He Said: It’s practical!
She Said: It makes your head look like a mushroom cloud. Kim Jong Un is conducting nuclear tests on your skull. And what about your T-shirt? 50 shades of grey, and they all stink.
He Said: You do realize I’m wearing them AT THE GYM. People expect a little rankness.
She Said: Not at my snobby gym. We all gossip afterward about who smelled the worst. Surprise: it’s usually the guy who doesn’t wear deodorant. Next up, Your shorts. They’re so baggy and shapeless you once put them on backwards and never noticed.
He Said: That’s because I never put anything in the pockets.
She Said: Because you wear a fanny pack, accessory of the friendless and celibate.
He Said: I don’t like using lockers and I need somewhere to keep my wallet. But fine, you made one good point. The only other people wearing fanny packs are grandmothers who work out in jeans and short-sleeved blouses.
She Said: Plus, there’s your socks. You wear them mid-calf like my junior high gym teacher.
He Said: I have slender, delicate ankles. Any sock shorter than a crew slips halfway down my foot. It feels like I have a condom on inside my shoes.
She Said: … which are orange and black, so it looks like you’re jogging on two sad, long Halloween pumpkins.
He Said: Here’s an idea: I never go to the gym again. I hang out at home, eat chips, balloon to 400 pounds, then fly away… because I’m being air-lifted out of our home by some fake TV doctor. Or… we make fun of what you wear to the gym because it’s so obsessively coordinated.
She Said: It’s cute!
He Said: You match bras to headbands… and you have five million headbands.
He Said: And like you said, when you’re not at the gym, you wear sleepwear 98% of the time.
She Said: How about I call my mom and see if she still has Nana’s Angry Puppet instructions…?
He Said: Nope. Gross. I’m going for a walk. And I’ll be wearing thick socks, backward shorts and two fanny packs at once.