I was thinking that a was getting a little heavy for my own good in my last post. I mean, really, could I be any more of a Tony Robbins wannabe? (Oh, I’m sorry, he is now referred to as Anthony Robbins….) So I figure that tonight I will come up with something a little lighter so that my dear readers won’t think that I have jumped off the deep end.
Hmmm….what to do?
I haven’t written about my dear Cletus lately. I have lost all desire to rekindle that relationship. An overzealous reader ruined it for me. That really sucks too, because I was seriously considering doing a whole book of Cletus and Claudine stories. Oh well.
So let’s just talk about…….what I saw on Oprah yesterday. Here’s the scene: there was a husband and wife on the show who had been married for about five years. The wife was on the show to help fix her relationship because she was still upset about her husband’s bachelor party. The bachelor party in which there was a topless stripper on his lap with boobies all in his face and doing her thing. The husband thinks, “Well, this is what you are supposed to do” and here is Oprah and her guest therapist-chick saying how on the eve of the most sacred day of your life, you shouldn’t be partaking of such entertainment.
Okay, so as a chick, I should so be against this. Well, oh contrair, mon frare (or however you spell that). I must have some kind of weird understanding of men or something. I must be completely comfortable and secure in my relationship of three months to say this, but here goes….
I think that the whole bachelor (or bachelorette party for that matter) is all good. You have to think about it like this: Do you love and trust your beloved? Do you believe that when they come home, they are coming home to you? Are you secure in your relationship? If the answers are yes, then let your man go have fun, and go have fun yourself. As long as they do these things, it is all good—1. keep Petey in their pants; 2. Don’t compare you to the perfect boobies in front of them; 3. discuss the details. These are the Amy rules for this. What I told Troy was this: if he took the Pete out of the boxers, don’t bother coming home. That woke him up.
I could so have my own show.
Go have fun men, and come home to your lovely ladies. And ladies, go see some of those dancin’ men, just don’t expect your man to be like that. Do this, and it will be all kinds of good, instead of 33 kinds of wrong.
A