This should’ve been mentioned in yesterday’s post, but I forgot to share the results of my recent marital poll. “Stay together for Muriel” was the winner, followed by “Remain married and pursue Martha Stewart together.” We’ll take it under advisement, but here’s the thing about dragging someone else into our relationship: I don’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s bullshit when Crankenstein and I already have enough of our own.
Also, logistically, any group sex we attempted would be a nightmare. Stewart isn’t the problem, she’s a master of hospitality. Imagine the thoughtful seating arrangements and carefully selected hors d’oeuvres at her illicit parties. (You would need something light and playful that delicately sidesteps the natural concerns of any mannered participant — oversatiation, offensive breath, a garnish stuck in one’s teeth.) The sheets would be practical and attractive without sacrificing comfort: high thread count, muted colors, no pilling, stain-resistant.
But realistically, Crankenstein’s easily distracted and has trouble multitasking. And she’d keep score the whole time and confront me later: “You spent twice as long with Y and Z and thought I wouldn’t notice?!” I’d have to time it all perfectly with my medication, too, but at her age, Stewart’s probably used to that. Even then, I’d worry about falling off an unfamiliar person or bed due to lack of spatial awareness, though she might graciously provide a festive garden swing to ameliorate such concerns.
It just seems needlessly complicated. What’s the etiquette for sending thank-you cards afterward? What if you accidentally break a vase? I’d rather be at home on the couch with Muriel and a good book — maybe even Martha Stewart’s Hors d’Oeuvres: The Creation and Presentation of Fabulous Finger Foods.