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The Joys of Marriage or How to Scare a Single Gal to Death

The Joys of Marriage or How to Scare a Single Gal to Death

We were discussing my favorite topic: Bad breath.

I mean, people! Are you aware of just how many folks there are walking around with stink emanating from their mouths like fire from a dragon? Ick Dot Com! It’s enough to make me want to wear one of those masks people in Asia sport when they have a cold. Only mine would be a stink-deflector mask. Has anyone invented this yet?

As I was saying, I was relaying to some friends a very scholarly story of how another friend works with an anorexic woman whose breath, she reported back to me, smells just awful on account of the fact that she never eats.

“And she’s married, too!” I told the ladies present, both married themselves. “I mean, doesn’t her husband say to her, ‘Damn, woman! You’ve got some stanky breath!”

“But married people don’t kiss,” said one, rather too matter of factly for my taste.

“Married people don’t kiss???””

"Married people don’t kiss," she said again, the way you might say, Is the pope Jewish, I mean, Catholic? She went on to explain. For the first two, maybe three, years of marriage you do kiss. She even made a conscious effort to kiss every night to keep the spark alive. But then the kids come and, well, you can just kiss kissing goodbye.

I turned to my other friend for some moral support. Say it ain’t so! But she just shrugged.

“The other night when we were in bed and about to turn off the light I just shot up my arm. ‘High-five!’ I said and he high-fived me.’”

Married couples high-five? In bed!

Oy vay voy le! Which is another way of saying, why am I in such a rush to find myself a man if all I’m going to get is an eternity of fist bumping and the occasional game of rock, paper, scissors?

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