So I Married a Porn Star

Sometimes, when I'm at work, my mind wanders from the task at hand to more pressing matters. Such as, "how many brown uniforms does the UPS guy have?" or "Mary from Accounting needs to whiten her teeth," or, "What would it be like to be married to an adult film star?" Since we could really give two shits about the first two, let's focus on the third.

Well, first of all, the sex would be incredible. Wait a minute…would it? I mean, that's their JOB. It would be like if I came home from a hard day's work and my husband greeted me at the door with, "Baby, what I'd really like right now is for you to do some filing. And then, it would make me sooo hot if you created an Excel spreadsheet with pie charts and a yearly analysis graph. And then—oooh wait for it—can you-oh-oh-yeah-p-p-proofread the quarterly earnings report? Oh God yeah, that's it!"

Maybe he'd be so fed up with hard core action that he'd just want to hold hands. And cuddle. And talk about our feelings. Uh…maybe not. I guess Sports Center, pizza, and a cold beer would be more like it (after all, he's not a gay porn star.)

Would I be embarrassed, ashamed, furious that my husband spends his workday bonking other women? Nah. I'd tell the other mothers at the PTA meeting, hell, at least I know exactly what my man's up to. Your man's out spending your children's college savings on some trailer trash he picked up at Arby's, while mine is simply working towards our new kitchen remodeling. And look at another woman? That's like asking the garbage man to look at those new recycling bins. Uh, no thanks babe, I'll pass.

Gee, I don't know…it sounds too good to be true. As we take off our clothes, get into our new Ethan Allen sleigh bed under our brand new track lighting system, and slowly, gently begin to make love, I can't help but wonder…is he taking his work home with him?