The Other Woman

Earlier this year I decided to give into my husbands wants and needs completely. So, I told him he could do "It." I told him to go out and fulfill that desire every man has buried deep-down inside. Under all those layers of loyalty to one's wife and fiscal responsibility, every man has an itch. An itch they all desperately, hopelessly want to scratch. I told him to scratch it.

I told him he could hang a flat-screen T.V. in our bedroom.

This man had been jones-ing for one for months, heck, years. His love of technology and gadgets had lain dormant for far too long, all because his wife over here - Mrs. Frugal - wanted a warm coat, paid bills, and food on the table. So, because I love him with all my heart I gave in. Plus, I figured it would give him something to do in his favorite place on Earth - Best Buy - to buy the brackets, wires and what-nots that are essentials for one of these things.

In other words, I fell prey to his blue eyes beggy face. Besides, the man works hard, provides for us, and humors my need to buy expensive beauty products. And he knows his way around televisions, computers, and the ever-popular gaming console. So, I told him to go for it. To get out there and make all his big-screen dreams come true.

We'd already looked at several models, which I'd deemed "reasonable," ie not bigger than a small country. And I'd even come to terms with the fact that my husband and I were going have one in our bedroom before the year was up anyway. In other words, I was resigned. Meanwhile, the hubs was positively giddy with joy.

He wrangled up a buddy to help him pick up the flat-screen and off they went, while I fixed myself a snack and settled down in front of his old-school television - may she rest in peace - totally oblivious. But no sooner had I popped in Season 1 of every woman's favorite television series, SITC, when my husband came running into the house, fumbling, afraid he was about to be caught red-handed. He stopped abruptly when he met the wifely gaze of not just yours truly, but that of his buddies wife, as well. We are two smart girls who happen to know a thing or two about that "wild eyed" look husbands get.

"Hon, I got good news! We had no trouble getting the T.V into the back of Josh's truck" he yelled, hedging, buying time, before he dropped the other shoe. My look deepened, cuing him to speak quickly, lest I begin jumping around hysterically and screaming at him to "Take it out of my sight!" before I'd even seen it.

He spat out, hurriedly, "Before you get mad, just know that it's HD with picture-in-picture and...." By this point, I was positively on the verge of mania. But before I could protest, he was hauling in a flat-screen T.V. so big that I literally stopped breathing. It was monstrous. Plainly put, it was huge. And totally out of place in the romantic bedroom I had been envisioning in my mind since the day he asked me to marry him. I didn't know what to say; I didn't know what to think. So, I just sat there, silent, while my husband kept rambling on, using words that might as well have been Greek to me: High resolution. Crystal clear picture. Surround sound capabilities."

I about passed out from the shock. I wanted to scream, and, in that moment, realized the genius behind my husband's timing. He'd carted in a larger-than-I'd-ever-agree-to T.V. while I had a guest over who just happens to be a doctor and complete push over when it comes to her husband. To put it in laymans terms, I couldn't yell, for fear of looking like The Old Ball and Chain. And, thus, the new T.V. was ours. By default, mind you. But ours, nonetheless.

So, as the guys set up the new love of my husband's life, I fumed silently. But, by the time our friends had left I'd significantly calmed down. (What can I say? I might be quick to anger, but I'm also quick to forgive.)

Two weeks later, I've grown accustomed to the television that resembles a rather large growth resting on my bedroom wall. And don't tell my husband, but I even grew fond of watching A Baby Story on the large growth while I eat my lunch and rest my weary body from a long day of doing nothing. But then, as my afternoon reality shows are coming to an end my husband comes home. And, no sooner than I can ask him, "Do you want ice water with dinner?" does he sit down and grab the flashy new flat screen's remote...Or the controller to his precious gaming console, which, of course, is linked up to the precious flat-screen, too. The Other Woman, it seems, is linked in to his entire world: The Play Station. Fox 4 in HD. A DVD collection that lines up all his favorite shows and movies. And all of it is projected onto a 60-inch screen that always turns on when he wants it to and shuts up promptly when he hits mute.

If she could cook, I'd be threatened. And if she didn't display my TLC afternoon programming with such a picture perfect clarity that its almost frightening, I'd hate her. Lucky for the T.V., her screen is spot-on. And all mine for all but a few evening hours. Which, if I play my cards right (and cook a mean dinner,) I can commandeer for some primo chick-show viewing a few nights a week, too.

We're a perfect little family: Me, my husband, and The Other Woman.

In fact, last month when he decided to pimp out his garage, he felt the need to move the 60 inch into his man cave and put a 42 inch in our bedroom instead. I actually found myself feeling a little bummed and have even visited the other woman in there several times. Who knew polygamy could be so fun?

I'll admit, his flat-screen television obsession isn't half bad. And I'd rather live with one of those than an actual other woman. Luckily, I don't have to worry about that. He's so enamored with the T.V. that he doesn't have time for another woman. Plus, I think he kinda likes me. What? I let him buy the T.V., didn't I? What's not to love?


**hubsy entranced