Tag: wife

Man date


 

Men mourning a breakup

Man date. Sometimes you are the giver and sometimes you are the receiver. But this is one date to avoid if at all possible. I’m not talking about one man going out with a male friend to see a movie and there are plenty of seats to leave an empty one between you, so no one thinks that “you’re together” as in you two are an item–if you know what I mean.

I’m talking about you buying two tickets to a concert for a singer or band that only your girlfriend, fiancée, or wife would want to see. And you bought the tickets because you wanted to make her happy, for at least one night. But for some unexplained reason, she no longer wants to go to the concert with you. It could be for any number of reasons. She has a headache, she just doesn’t want to go to the concert anymore, or she broke up with you.  So now you have two concert tickets for which you paid good money! You can’t sell them at such short notice, so you call around and finally find a friend who is desperate enough to go to this concert with you because … well, just because.

No real man will admit he wants to go to a concert with you. So, you go to this concert with your friend because he once took you on a man date when his girlfriend dumped him and he had two tickets to Sting, but you feel guilty tonight because you’re only taking him to see Barry Manilow. You see the concert and make the best of an unpleasant situation. Unfortunately, you have assigned seating and you two must sit right next to each other.

You’re driving home and you realize that this wasn’t so bad after all. But then you wonder, should I take him straight home? Will he be offended if I do? Should I take him out for a drink and then take him home? Will I look desperate if I just drive him to a bar without asking him if he wants a drink? All I want to do is talk about my female problems. But he also has female problems, or he wouldn’t have gone to a Barry Manilow concert with you! Instead, you drive him straight home without saying a word. He doesn’t say anything either as he leaves the car. Both of you secretly hope that you’ll never have to go on a man date ever again!

DDR

Cell phones


My electronic home monitoring device

I never had a beeper. I never had a brick phone. I never had the latest technological gadgets. But one day I suddenly had a cell phone. My ex-wife gave me one.

I had a cell phone before most people. Some people were really impressed that I had a cell phone. People could reach me wherever I was, which was both good and bad. However, I prefer to communicate via e-mail rather than talk on the telephone. A few people would call me, but mostly my ex would call me to see where I was. She would call and almost immediately ask, “Where are you?” Invariably, I would answer, “I’m at work,” “I’m at school,” or “I’m upstairs. I never left the house.” I felt like a parolee with an electronic home monitoring device.

The cell phone is a wonderful invention that I can live without, and I haven’t had one for years now. With a cell phone you lose all your privacy. I mean, everyone may contact you anytime, anyplace. If you give everyone your cell phone and home phone numbers, they call your cell phone first instinctively. You’re always available to everyone at all hours of the day. With a landline telephone, I would never answer the phone when I was showering, on the toilet, or away from the house. When I first had my cell phone, I always answered no matter where I was. I felt as if I was tethered by an electronic leash.

Once I was at Home Depot, when I unexpectedly had to use the bathroom. Suddenly, I could hear my stomach churning and the noises were traveling down my abdomen. I immediately went to the bathroom. I must admit that it was a remarkably close call and I almost regretted not having a change of underwear in the car. While sitting on the toilet, my cell phone rings, and I instinctively answer it. As I’m talking, my stomach starts churning again. Let’s just say the methane gases within me built up again and took the path of least resistance. Adding to the sound effect were the acoustics of this toilet stall that would rival any concert hall. I tried to control my bodily functions because I was holding a telephone conversation, but all my efforts were in vain. Suddenly, the pent-up gases escaped from my body with a mighty roar despite my most valiant efforts. My friend on the end of the line asks, “What was that?” I was too embarrassed to tell the truth, so I said, “I’m at Home Depot. That was a saw.” My friend said, “But that noise was extremely loud.” “Well, it was a chain saw! There it goes again! See, doesn’t it sound like a chain saw?”

I’ve been living cellphone free and happily for three years now.

DDR

Mexican Catholics


Mount Carmel Church, Chicago, Illinois

The Mexican stereotype is that all Mexicans are Catholics. And most of them are. However, when I met my ex-wife’s family, I was surprised, even shocked, that most of her father’s family were Mexican Protestants. And her family was Protestant in Mexico, too! Talk about culture shock. Even though I’m a Mexican Catholic, I, too, stereotype all Mexicans in Mexico as Catholics.

As a young boy I was a parishioner at a Lithuanian Catholic church, Holy Cross, where I also attended their grammar school. The church population consisted of mostly Lithuanians, but there were also a lot of Mexican families in the parish and school. We always went to mass on school days before we went to class and on Sundays we sat with our classmates and teacher for mass. All the Mexicans in the neighborhood went to mass, if not every day, at least on Sundays. My father’s family was extremely religious, so I had this image of all Mexicans being devout Catholics.

When I went to Mexico, I realized that my mother’s family wasn’t as religious as I had imagined. All my aunts, uncles, cousins, and other family members always said that they were Catholic. What a disgrace it would be not to be Catholic!

Anyway, once I went to Mexico to visit for a month. By the third week, I realized that we had not even gone to church even once. I wasn’t really a practicing Catholic then, but I was worried about what my family would think of me if I didn’t go to church or even suggest going to church. So, I asked them if they ever went to church. Immediately, my aunt told everyone to dress up nicely. We were going to church! Well, we went to church and there was no one there. There were no masses scheduled for that day, on a Sunday no less. We sat in the pews for a while attempting to pray, or at least pretending to pray, and then we went home.

So now that’s how I remember Mexican Catholics. People who want everyone to think that they’re Catholic. And, I guess, I’m no exception, either. Whenever someone asks me my religion, I say, “I’m Catholic!”

DDR