Friday, September 10, 2004

The honeymoon begins. And ends.

It's been a long time since I've been monogamous.

I didn't get laid until I was 21, as many of you know, and once my initiation (of sorts) was finished, I did fool around with 2 or 3 different girls, and then I met Angie, whom I dated for two years and actually got engaged to. I've already discussed Angie at length, so I won't belabor her again.

I was about 25 when Angie and I broke up. By then, I was out of grad school, had been hired at Tommy's firm, and was gung ho on my career. That's GUNG. HO.

Fifty- and sixty-hour-week gung ho. Whatever-the-project-is, give-it-to-me gung ho. Devour- every-available-periodical, milk-every-professional-in-spitting-distance-for-info gung ho.

I did everything I could to build my career, and it paid off, as you have read. I still thought about girls - a lot - but I cringed at the idea of a girlfriend stealing time away from work, and I was no good at random hookups back then. There was a lot of whacking in those days.

I got promoted to VP when I was 29. It was right around that time that I bought my house and my car, and started having more free time. It hit me while working out one morning that I could be getting laid. A lot. And get laid I did.

I fucked one girl after another, experimenting with different shapes, sizes, and colors, as if they were toys. I ate pussy and licked assholes. I got my dick sucked. I spanked. I GOT spanked. I fucked a girl, then fucked her sister a month later. I was a runaway freight train, hurtling down a steep sexual incline with no possibility of slowing down.

And I was having the time of my life.

I loved all the new experiences that were opened to me by my dating around. I loved being able to come home alone. I loved the thrill of the pursuit, the angling, the gamesmanship involved in trying to get some girl into bed with me. I loved the drama of not knowing what would happen when I approached her with a certain line or a certain cologne.

Even now, I am monogamous not because I love monogamy, but because I love Lila. I wonder if I will be able to resist temptation.

A lot went into telling her that I loved her. For the first time in a long time, I actually gave a shit about someone other than myself. I fought it as much as I could, because it was scary. But it's been a long time since I've felt this way about someone.

I just can't help but be reminded of our age difference, and how young people need to sow their wild oats. In five years, if we are still together, will Lila still love me? Or will she be wondering what she missed because she was not single? And if some other hot chick comes along, am I going to use these thoughts as an excuse to cheat?


With all the time I've been spending with mom, and talking with the family about mom, I haven't had as much time to clean up around the house, and it's starting to get a little sloppy. Nothing outrageous, but worse than usual. Lila offers to come over after work and clean up.

While she is putting away my laundry, I run to the store and buy a few things. When I get back, she is washing the kitchen floor, so I leave the bag on the table. "I'll put it away," she says.

I check my e-mail and surf around for a bit, then come back upstairs and open the cupboard. And almost have a heart attack.

The cupboard is a fucking disaster area.

Not a real disaster, mind you. In reality, my canned goods were moved from the second shelf to the third, and all the boxed foods had been moved to the second.

But, like the 87-pound anorexic that looks in the mirror and sees Kirstie Alley, I see a Vietnam-style grocery massacre. There might as well be exploded globs of cranberry plastered around the cupboard walls, with shards of metal can strewn randomly about.

"Lila. LILA!" I yell.

She runs into the room. "What is it, Steve?"

"What the hell happened here?" I say, holding the cupboard door open.

"I just moved some things around to fit the groceries in there."

"You rearranged the whole fucking thing!"

"No I did NOT!"

"Lila, all my cans are moved, all the boxes are moved..."

"Come ON, Steve, are you THAT anal?" she says.

"I have the cupboard arranged in a certain way, Lila. Don't mess with it!"

"Well, you're paying me to do chores so I was just trying to do my job!"

"Your job is not to mark your territory like a fucking wolf!" I say.


"Lila, this is NOT your house. You bought me the gazebo, you picked out the curtains, you're acting like you LIVE here!"

She stares at me. Her eyes start to mist over. "I can't believe you said that," she says. "If you don't want the gazebo, just tell me and I'll return it and you can have the money. And you ASKED me to pick out the curtains. It was YOUR idea to go shopping for them, not mine!"

Uh, oh yeah.

"Baby, I don't want the money, I..."

"You can be such an asshole sometimes," she says.

"I didn't mean to yell. You're right, I did ask you to go shopping for curtains. I'm sorry."

"Really?" she says.


Just hand those balls over, Steve.


The next day, Tuesday, around dinnertime. Lila calls.

"I just bought a car!" She says.

"Which one?"

"That Honda I was looking at. I got him down to $6800!"

"Lila, that car was over 8 grand! How did you do that?"

"Gave him my phone number," she says, without laughing.

Fuck. There are some crazy guys out there. Things like that are dangerous.

"Oh, man."

"Well, actually, I didn't give him MY number, I gave him YOURS. I'm figuring the first time he calls you can pretend to be my dad and go off on him. That ought to make him leave me alone."

"You have learned well, grasshopper," I say.