Wandering Eyes

May 6, 2013

I woke up from the usual slap on the head on Saturday morning, but this time it wasn’t from my little one. My wife was the culprit this time…so I knew she was up to something. She says “it’s going to be a beautiful day, we should go to the beach.” I roll over and meekly reply “sure…sounds good.” Personally, I love the beach…it’s relaxing, calm, and it gives me a chance to stare up at the sky and think. But, a trip to beach can cause problems. I can see myself sitting there, listening to Pandora, and minding my own business…until a woman walks by in a bikini. I, of course, will admire this passer by…and my wife will notice…and boom it’s couch city for me tonight. But, let me explain…I have to look ok? There is an incessant gene programmed in every male that makes it impossible to look away from an attractive female…especially when she is showing off her goodies like that. There is nothing wrong with looking…its not like I’m whipping it out and offering it to every lady that happens to pass me on the beach. But, sometimes my wife tests me. She puts me in these types of situations, so she can catch me eye-balling random chicks. But, I’ve learned to be secret agent-like and pick my spots. And if I am caught:

wife: I saw that…you’re not slick. You were totally checking her out.

Me: What? No..she’s wearing a white bikini and we know you aren’t supposed to wear white after Labor Day…am I right? Total fashion foul. She’s lucky the fashion police wasn’t here cause…uh hello! Arrested!

No, that wouldn’t work.


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