A Tongue Lashing
You’re not
going to enjoy this but it’s time for some home truths. Our life together must change,
which means you must change. Bluntly put, you’re extremely boring to live with.
You like
lists, so here’s the story of our tedious existence under four headings: words;
food; drink; sex.
Yes, I do
know your friends are impressed with your vocabulary; precipitation rather than
rain, axiomatic rather than bloody obvious. But your sentences are also stuffed
with phrases such as, oh really?, but surely!, is that so?, no kidding! They’re
an insult to your, and my, abilities.
Look at what
we eat, even at restaurants. I know vegetarianism is all the go. But tell me this,
just how many brown rice and nut meat casseroles with a side order of tofu chips
are you planning to eat in your lifetime? I want variety, and a good rump steak
once a week.
At least
you’re not teetotal, even if you do hide the bottle in the bedroom, well away
from your mother’s prying eyes. But Marsala?! There’s a lot of fine wine around.
A good red might just help us bond.
As for sex,
you ponder why it happens so rarely. Simple answer, oral hygiene. Sucking your
teeth is not the same as cleaning them. It makes me want to puke.
Now you’re
getting stroppy, I can feel your blood pressure rising. How dare I berate you,
you demand to know. Well, as your tongue, I have a right to express my opinions.
Change your lifestyle … or else.
Here are the options we face: the odorous; the
ulcerous; the cancerous. Perhaps all three at once. Not pretty, I know, but desperate
times breed desperate measures. You’ve
been warned.
