Funny is your friend. Humor laughs with us. Satire is an anatomically correct robot.
I Finally Saw My Wife Naked!
And I was shocked!
Big confession. I never saw my wife naked during our 10 years of marriage.
Oh, I’ve seen naked people before. Back in college, several nude models were always posing for us students in one of my classes. I couldn’t figure out why they were there since the teacher taught accounting.
My wife did say she grew up in a cult that required everyone to be dressed and ready for the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. That could be the reason.
Or maybe she was hiding something? I had to find out what the truth was.
She had just showered and ran into the bedroom wearing an oversized terry cloth robe. I crunched down in front of the bedroom door and peeked through the keyhole. “So that’s what she looks like,” I commented under my breath. “Not bad at all.”
It was then that I noticed the rather large and colorful pattern on her back. I squinted and got closer to the door. It was a large male dog standing on its hind legs.
How did I know it was a male dog? He had a huge erect penis!
Wait a minute! The dog looked familiar. Then it struck me. And it hurt.
The door swooshed open and slammed into my face.
“What the hell are you doing spying on me?” She yelled. She had a towel around her body.
“I never saw you without clothes on before,” I sputtered through the blood that was dripping down from my forehead into my mouth.
“You always dress in the locked bathroom, and you wear pajamas to bed. We’ve been married for a decade! What are you hiding?” It was against my nature to be angry, but I went on the offensive in my questioning. Maybe it was the loss of blood or the adrenaline from the moment. Maybe I was in shock at seeing a horny animal permanently inked on my wife’s body.
And then I just blurted it with all the finesse of an excited toddler. “You have a big horny dog tattoo on your back!”
My mind relived all the moments in our life when I should have seen her obvious back tat. The time at the beach when she insisted on wearing a full-length formal evening gown. “I’m susceptible to the sun,” she said. “And, besides, now I don’t have to change for the gala tonight.” She smiled as if it all made sense.
Then there was another moment when we were staying at a hotel in Mexico. It was a couples’ resort with no fancy dress events. Clothing was even an option within the compound.
“Why don’t we go skinny dipping in the pool honey?” I asked with a grin.
“Can I wear my Coca-Chanel cocktail dress? It’s sleeveless with a high back design.” She asked.
“Isn’t that dry clean only?” I joked but I somehow knew she wasn’t kidding. She started acting distant.
We stayed in the hotel room for the rest of the vacation, ate room-service tacos, and watched telenovelas on the TV. I didn’t understand a word of Spanish and the tacos were inauthentic, and I assumed made purposely bland for the tourists.
We had met online on a dating site for singles with fetishes. I liked feet and more specifically, toes. I had previously dated a podiatrist, but I broke it off when she wouldn't let me watch as she examined patients.
My now-wife said she liked dogs — a lot. Specifically big dogs. I thought a big dog meant she wanted an alpha male in her life.
“I’ll be your big dog!” I texted her. And we began dating soon after.
I asked her to marry me when I saw that she preferred to wear open-toe sandals everywhere.
I had her drop her towel in the hallway and turn her back to me. She was reluctant but complied.
I laughed when I saw the tattoo up close.
“It’s Scooby-Doo!” I said a little too loud. “You have a large tattoo of Scooby-Doo on your back, and he has an erection. And he’s smirking!”
I looked at her in amazement. What crazy exclamation could she possibly have?
She was silent for a moment and then tears ran down her face.
“I was very young when I met Scoobert at a party. We fell in love and agreed to get married.
All the gang would be there for the ceremony, Fred, Daphne, Velma, and that no-good Shaggy Rodgers was his best man. On the day of the wedding, he and his pals didn’t show up. I was screaming from the altar “Scooby-Doo where are you!” Scoob texted later to say the rest of the mystery crew convinced him he couldn’t be tied down and was going on the road to unmask monsters.
“So that explains why we have all the boxes of Scooby snacks in the basement,” I replied, looking her in the eyes.
“I understand now honey, that was tough to go through. At the same time, we’re never, never, getting any pets in the house.”