������� "So, are you ready to get married?" I asked my best friend Jeff as he, my other best friend Jamie and I sat down to eat lunch at a sidewalk cafe in Pasadena last Saturday.
������� I had flown to California for the three of us to have somewhat of a last harrah, since he was the final one of us to tie the knot and would be a married man by the month's end.
������� Jeff looked puzzled.
������� "I'm ready," he snapped as he spread a napkin over his lap. "I bought an extra pillow."
������� Jamie and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. She, having been married for a year, and I, being married for three, could tell that our little friend had some very lofty ideas about sharing one's life with someone as if you were the only one that mattered, just like a man.
������� "Kristin's the nice partner," Jeff explained about his betrothed. "I'm the bossy one. She understands that. We have that understanding."
������� "None of us are the nice partner in our relationships," Jamie added. "All three of us are the mean one. But that doesn't matter. Things still change."
������� "Like, you might as well get rid of all of your CDs now, because in two weeks, she'll think that they all suck," I said.
������� "And you should carry roughly $5 in quarters with you at all times so you can call her from wherever you are," Jamie added.
������� "And instead of falling asleep to music, it will be white noise," I quipped. "Women need that. I have a fan."
������� "I have a wave machine. Happy hour will be a thing of the past. There's something you do instead now," Jamie said. "It's called dinner at home."
������� "And after you come home from work or after 5 o'clock," I stated, "you need to ask if you want to go back out again."
������� "Unless she sends you to the store," Jamie said.
������� "Unless she sends you to the store," I confirmed.
������� "Forget about being the first one to get the mail anymore," Jamie said. "You'll never get unhandled mail again."
������� "And if you find jelly or ice cream on the remote control," I insisted, "it's a totally natural thing."
������� "After you get married, you'll never be as funny at home as you are at work," Jamie added.
������� "And when she laughed at your jokes before, she was faking it," I said.
������� "Once you've told a story, you need to retire it," Jamie announced. "Because every time she hears a story more than once, she'll hate you a little more and a little more."
������� " And never read to her from a book or magazine article aloud," I declared. "She'll never think it's as interesting as you do."
������� "If she gets sick," Jamie said, "you have to hold her hair and clean it up and then kiss her afterward."
������� "But other than that instance, if you're initiating the kiss, you need to brush your teeth first," I added.
������� "Her sexual obligation to you expires in two years," Jamie stated. "And should she decide to oblige you after that, you should be very, very grateful."
������� "And you're never allowed to say 'boink,' 'pork,' 'do it or 'get it on,'" I informed Jeff. "Or wake her up in the middle of the night when you're ... overwhelmed by your ... man desire."
������� "You could get suspended for that," Jamie whispered.
������� "If she's not talking to you, like when she's reading a book or watching TV, that means she's BUSY," I nodded. "And you need to be quiet."
������� And when you feel the need to go to the bathroom, you should ask her if she needs to go first," Jamie said.
������� "But you should really try to make it a point to do doody someplace else before you get home," I declared.
������� "But if you do it at home by accident," Jamie said carefully, "never, never call her in to look at it. It's gross and will entirely change her perspective of you."
������� "She'll see you as the animal that you are," I stated.
������� "The animal that you are," Jamie agreed.
������� "And if there's some potato chips or cookies in a bag, don't eat them," I said. "She might not be done with them and may want them at some point. Just because there's food in the house doesn't mean it's fair game."
������� "And if she asks you if you want to share a dessert at a restaurant, that means she wants some," Jamie added. "And it's in your best interest to say yes."
������� "And when you're at your parents' house and she yawns for the first time, it means it's time to go," I said.
������� "If the phone rings and you don't think it's for you," Jamie added, "you still have to answer it."
������� "If she ever comes home and there's a drunk guy on the couch and another one throwing up in the bathroom, expect to be in trouble," I informed him.
������� "If she buys a bar of soap that isn't white, it is not for you," Jamie stated.
������� "And if she asks you to do several things, it's not OK to just do the last thing she said because that's the only one you remember," I asserted.
������� "Be honest with yourself. Set the alarm for the time the Real You will get up, not the Ambitious You, because the Ambitious You doesn't really exist," Jamie added.
������� "At night, if she takes the covers, just get used to being cold," I stated. "It's more important for her to be warm. A simple draft can render her infertile, and then your family name will die with you."
������� "And that's selfish," Jamie added.
������� "That's selfish," I agreed.
������� Jeff stared at us for a long, long time, trying to take it all in. As I studied his face, I got the impression as he furrowed his brow and crinkled his mouth that he was about to cry.
������� Suddenly, I panicked. Had we said too much? Had we been too honest? Had we scared him horribly? Was he thinking about jumping ship? I looked at Jamie, and realized that she was looking at me with the same awful look on her face that I had on mine.
������� What had we done? We are the mean ones, after all!
������� "Maybe you're right," he finally said. "Maybe I'm not so ready. How could I be so stupid? What am I thinking! Am I OUT OF MY MIND?!"
������� Jamie and I didn't know what to say. We just sat there, horrified, our mouths hanging open, getting ready to protest. WHAT HAD WE DONE?
������� "I don't have any extra pillowcases!" Jeff proclaimed as he stomped his foot and then looked at us, smiling wickedly.