When planning a romantic Valentine’s Day getaway, don’t forget to invite your wife

When planning a romantic Valentine’s Day getaway, don’t forget to invite your wife

by | Feb 13, 2013 | Holiday humor, Lifestyles humor

Every year it seems like thousands of people come to me for advice on how to improve their love life. Most people call me the Love Doctor (except for my wife, who usually calls me by her pet name, “you bastard”).

Every year it seems like thousands of people come to me for advice on how to improve their love life. Most people call me the Love Doctor (except for my wife, who usually calls me by her pet name, “you bastard”).

For years people the world over have sought my advice as a foremost authority on matters of the heart. Perhaps it’s because I’m half-German. Or maybe because I got an A- in French in high school – the language of love. I don’t actually have any formalized training in this arena. And I still don’t quite understand position #27 of the Kama Sutra.

My love advice credentials stem from a series of devastating, soul-crushing, failed romances in my formative youth, all of which ended catastrophically. (To this day, I still can’t look at a wrist corsage without suffering traumatic flashbacks.) 

February 14th is Valentine’s Day, officially recognized by Hallmark as the one day each year men are expected to demonstrate their love for their wife by buying a sappy card with flowers and chirping birds, inside of which is written a banal poem with hackneyed rhymes like “you’re my wife” and “rest of my life”. Oh, and don’t forget the heart-shaped box of chocolates. Here’s a useful tip: Make sure you leave at least 5 chocolates for your wife – I’d suggest the caramel-centered ones. You know how much she loves caramel. The other 364 days you guys can go back to not showering and channel-surfing between ESPN 1 and ESPN 2. Your job is done. 

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I’ve been having an affair. Please don’t tell my wife.

I’ve been having an affair. Please don’t tell my wife.

by | Jul 27, 2011 | Political humor

Okay, I admit it. I’m not perfect. I don’t like vegetables. I tend to look down on anybody from the South named Earl or Cletus. I sometimes just mouth the words during the national anthem instead of singing. And last month, when a volunteer knocked on my front door collecting for Greenpeace I told him I gave at the office. I hadn’t. What can I say? I’m not perfect.

So when my wife took both our girls recently on a two-week trip out of town, I had the entire house to myself. I have never had that much independence and freedom in the entire 24 years of our marriage. And well, a man has certain needs, if you know what I mean.

While my wife and kids were away, something I am not proud of, well, it just happened.  I got swept up by a woman who just wowed me. I started spending time with her each evening, in my otherwise empty house. I would close my blinds for privacy and take the phone off the hook. And then I would just stare at her somewhat awkwardly – usually saying very few words. In my defense, the attraction was purely intellectual. Before I knew it, a most unexpected long distance relationship began. You see, I live in Seattle. She lives in New York City.

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