I was sitting in my little office cubicle the other day thinking about sex.
But it wasn't my fault. It was around noon and, being a typical crusading journalist, I was originally thinking about lunch.
At least until the phone rang. There was a woman's voice on the other end of the line. (If you want to get technical, I assume there was probably an entire woman on the other end of the line, but I think you get my general drift.)
She sounded EXACTLY like my first-grade teacher.
"Hello," is what I said. (As a "prominent local personality," I am a naturally gifted conversationalist.)
"Hello," said the woman's voice, then she got right to the point: "You must be VERY GOOD in bed!"
You will be surprised, but I had to think about this for a second. "Well," I said, "Um, I kind of like to think..."
Before I could utter a complete thought, the woman let the other shoe drop. "Because if you weren't," she declared, "your wife would probably leave you in a heartbeat!"
"Ha ha ha," is what I recall saying, relying on my rapier-like wit.
The woman then launched into a lengthy but extremely polite lecture in which she made the central point that I was an idiot. (In hindsight, she probably was my first-grade teacher.)
As evidence, she cited a recent column in which I had pretty much made the same central point. The column described two recent incidents in which I (a) almost burned down a neighbour's home during a dinner party when I tried to light a candle using a paper napkin I'd ignited with another candle; and (b) almost burned down a friend's cottage when my attempt to make beer-can chicken turned into a re-enactment of the Hindenburg Disaster.
"How could you be so STUPID???" the woman caller wanted to know.
"Um ...," I said. (I honed these witty comebacks during a stint on my high school debating team.)
"If I were your wife, I'd have left you a long time ago," she explained. She then wanted to make sure that I had learned my lesson (I did) and that I would never ever do anything so stupid again (I won't... or at least I won't write about it).
I sensed we were becoming friends. "Well, I just hope you really appreciate your wife," she said before hanging up. "She must be a saint."
And the next stupid thing I did was decide that I should tell my wife all about this insightful telephone conversation.
I planned to do this as soon as I got home, but the moment I walked in the door my wife decided to give me a pop quiz.
She called me into the dining room. Then she folded her arms and gave me a sort of curious look. Then she tapped her toe. (Note to other husbands: These are NOT good signs.)
Finally, looking exasperated, she asked: "Well, what do you think?"
I began to sweat profusely. Clearly, I was supposed to notice something. (As I may have mentioned earlier, I am very quick on my feet.)
"Oh," I told my wife. "Wow! Your hair looks great!"
My wife groaned. "No!" she snorted. Then she walked over to the light switch and flicked it on, apparently to illuminate whatever I was supposed to see. "What do you think?" Frantically, I began looking around, desperately trying to spot something in the dining room that was of critical importance to my wife.
"Hey," I spluttered, "That dress looks really nice on you!" I believe my wife then used her eyes to shoot laser beams at me because I could feel my face getting very warm.
"No!" she barked. Then she flicked the light switch about half a dozen times. "Do you notice SOMETHING NEW???" she thundered.
As a professional journalist, I am a trained observer. So, naturally, I didn't see a thing. I glanced at the dogs for help, but their expressions made it clear I was on my own.
My wife couldn't take it any more. "WE HAVE A NEW CHANDELIER!" she groaned, giving the light switch a few extra flicks. Out of journalistic fairness, I will mention this new light fixture was easily the size of an Olympic weightlifter and was dangling approximately two feet in front of my nose.
"Nice," I said to my wife, nodding my head vigorously.
"You are such an idiot," my wife sighed.
Which suddenly reminded me of the phone call I'd gotten earlier in the day. So I told my wife what the woman who'd sounded like my first-grade teacher had to say about me being a blockhead and being lucky to have such a tolerant wife.
"That's funny," my wife said, smiling.
"Because she thought I was an idiot?" I asked.
"No," my wife sniffed, "because she thought you were good in bed."
On the upside, at least I'm starting to see the light.
doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca
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