Take A Stroll... With Rob Delaney - Hi, Fidelity!
My wife and I have been together for seven years. I like her. When I look at her, I think, “That is an attractive woman and I would like to have sex with her.” But don’t blow all your money at the trophy store on a Champion Laurel Deluxe™ with my name on it; I think the same thought about probably 40 other women during the day, too. Yesterday there was a new woman working at the coffee shop I frequent and I am still working out in my head whether it would be worth it to kidnap her or not.She even smiled at me, not knowing that when she falls in love with me in a few weeks, it’ll only be because she’s succumbed to Stockholm syndrome. Or maybe she’ll just love me for me; who am I to tell her how to use the heart that beats between what I’m estimating are B-cup breasts? (I know my cup sizes at a glance; it’s just that her thick chestnut hair cascades down her smooth brown neck and obscures them slightly from my gaze, like a fragrant veil or “sex curtain.”)
See, my current wife has taught me how to cook at an almost professional level, so maybe after eating some braised summer vegetables and eggplant Parmesan I made from scratch and hearing an anecdote or two about how I’ve been wronged in this life, Lauren (*not her real name, until I brainwash her to accept it) might recognize me for what I truly am (a regular goddamn person who is normal and clean and good and not bad or creepy or “too hairy”) and give me what I truly deserve; a pants-free wiggle-hug that lasts eleven weeks.
OK: writing that out, I can see that I should probably not kidnap her. Not that there wouldn’t be aspects of our time together that would be delightful, it’s just that I’m a non-violent person, so actually executing the kidnapping part would really bum me out and then I’d be sad and pouty and she’d have to practically beg me to have sex with her, maybe! It should be obvious by now that “thinking” or “thought” is definitely a powerful antagonist in the story, “Rob Considers Fucking Women Who Aren’t His Wife.” In addition to that, a huge danger of being in a relationship (even with a sexy person) for a long time is that you and your partner can become friends in addition to lovers. BARF. And much like I would never want to give my friend Todd an incurable case of anal warts I picked up in some shitbox sixth story walk-up in Alphabet City from an intern at NYLON magazine, I wouldn’t want to give my wife anal warts either. She’s a nice lady.
Another problem with infidelity is that affairs often happen in beds. In my opinion, beds are for sleeping first, and sex a distant second or third. Not that I don’t want to fuck nine out of eight women I see, it’s just that when I lie down on a bed, I go immediately to sleep and cannot be roused, even by Rosario Dawson dressed as a cop. Now, if Officer Dawson (or Jennifer Hudson, Juliette Binoche, or almost any Indian or Colombian woman I’ve ever met/seen) and I could work something out around lunchtime and in a non-bed location like a car or bathroom floor, I’d be open to discussion, but I understand that’s me being sex-finicky, which is not an attractive trait, thus limiting my pool of paramours.
In the final analysis, I guess I look at having an affair the same way I look at becoming an astronaut; I’m sure it would be fun, but fuck you if I’m going to put in the elbow grease to make it happen.