Friday, September 19, 2008

Ride 'Em Cowboy

I decided to seduce my wife last night.

The problem is, there are precious little avenues open for me to attempt this. We've been married for fifteen years, and I've shot almost every bullet in the chamber, so to speak. So whatever I try, it has to be original enough to catch her attention, but not so original that she wants a divorce.

If you know what I mean, and I think that you do.

I eventually settled on the only logical choice: dressing up like a naked cowboy. After all, it’s well-known that she can’t resist a sexy cowboy.

We had a cowboy costume left over from earlier this year, so about ten minutes before she usually goes to bed, I snuck upstairs to prepare a surprise for her.

The excuse that I gave her was that I was going to turn on the electric blanket and get the bed ready. We keep the house at a balmy 50° F in order to save on our energy bill, which in turn cuts down on the amount of money that we send to Vladimir Putin and his goons at Gazprom.

See what sacrifices I make for world harmony?

She stayed downstairs, working on writing something out. I didn't know what it was; I mean, she tells me these things, but I don't focus on them.

The costume was leather chaps, boots, a vest, a cowboy belt, and a hat. That's it. Once I had it all on, I like to think that I had the "erotic cowboy" look down. Yes, I looked obscene. That was kind of the point, you know?

However, I was a little concerned about the full-on nudity aspect of it. So I took a red bandana and fashioned a sort of "junk pouch" out of it to keep it from being completely lewd. I was tastefully lewd, I like to think.

I was ready. I imagined that she'd come in, be completely wowed by my sexy costume, become aroused, and we'd make passionate love and then pass out in each other's arms.

Don't laugh. It's the audacity of hope.

I head her downstairs, working on whatever it was. And so I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

Twenty minutes passed with me standing upstairs, unable to move because the boots would make too much noise, in my 50° F house, buck naked except for leather chaps, a vest, and a bandana that was rapidly deflating.

I went from "erotic cowboy" to Viagra ad within the first five minutes.

Finally, I heard her moving around downstairs, shutting off lights and getting ready to come up to bed. When she switched on the light to the bedroom, I came swaggering out of the bathroom.

"Somebody call for a cowboy telegram?" I said it in my sexiest cowboy voice.

"Oh my God!" She started laughing. "You look ridiculous!"

This is not conducive to intimacy.

"I don't look ridiculous!" I protested. "I look sexy!"

She shook her head, tears running down her face. "No you don't," she said. "You look like a reject from the Village People."

Needless to say, whatever bandana boost I had maintained through the cold winter night was pretty much killed off by that comment. So, dejected, I changed out of my cowboy costume and got ready for bed.

At about twelve thirty, she shook me awake. I was immediately awake, hopeful that she'd reassessed my offer.

"Hey, Hopalong Assidy," she said. "You're snoring. Go sleep on the couch."

Happy Trails, indeed.

1 comment:

Steve Burri said...


I had to excerpt from this post and the 'Strawman Slaughter' post over on Grandpa John's. Both are hilarious.

Do you use drugs or do you have an extra or missing chromosome?