GNO vs NO

"No."

"What do you mean, No! You're my husband, David, not my owner."

"Okay, I'll rephrase that. I don't want you going out tonight with your girlfriends, and as your husband, I'm asking."

"You're not my boss. I just want to see girls I haven't seen for quite a while."

"You've numerous girlfriends, go shopping and lunch with them often. Who're the ones you haven't seen for a while?"

"You're really asking who's going. Well, Jan and Mary are going..., you know they're both married, right?"

"Yeah, I also know they're both longtime party girls, whose husbands don't care. Who else is going?"

"Carrie and Katie."

"Oh boy, slut 1 and slut 2."

"THEY'RE NOT SLUTS!"

"Maybe, but they are single and hunting for Mister Right or at least Mister Right Now. Where were you planning on going?"

"That new place on 95 called the Chuckwagon was mentioned."

"Great, a steakhouse stylized as a house. A Country-Western bar masquerading as a barn, right outside the steakhouse door. To further make it a perfect meat market, the Cabin Motel is within drunk walking distance. It's probably the owners of the motel that built the Chuckwagon. Then their most frequent check-in time became 20 minutes after Last Call. With the busiest checkout time 2-3 hours later."

"I don't know what you mean by meet market, but Jan says the food's excellent."

"My boss said it wasn't bad, he took a client there after it opened. He brought menus back to the office. A firepit, deep fryer's, and a grill, you couldn't find a salmon filet, steamed broccoli, or lemon vinaigrette salad within 10 miles of that place. Yep, soon to become the discerning feminists' dining of choice."

"But the best dining's in the barn, the meat market. Because you're playing stupid with me, I'll spell it out. That's M. E. A. T market, and the meat is cowboy cock, hunting for the Friday late-night special, Prime Grade A Pussy."

"THAT'S GROSS, David. You don't have to be vulgar and insulting."

"Yeah I do, from the look on your face and your attitude, I don't think anything I say is affecting you at all."

"David, you're blowing this all out of proportion. All I want to do is visit my friends and have a nice dinner."

"You're dressed and ready, meaning you came home early. It's 5:45, and you ambushed me at the door. So, you've already got your ride coming. I'm sure (sic) you'll all sit down to dinner, spend a long chat reconnecting. Then you'll be home oh..., about 8, 8:30, right?"

"No, we thought we'd get home around 11 or midnight, maybe a-bit later."

"Plenty of time to make the early check-in at the Cabin Motel."

"David, I'm not trying to have an affair, you're the only man I want to be married to!"

"How Freudian, trying can mean maybe, a quickie isn't an affair, and it's not required to marry your quickie."

"Damn you, Dave! You're twisting my words!"

"No, I'm trying to shock you into realizing how serious I am. Do you remember me telling you about my Mom?"

"Somewhat, I know your parents got divorced, probably because of his drinking. Then she fell ill and died, that's traumatic for a young boy, missing his Mother."

"Damn your feminist thinking! You're twisting the story to suit your ideals. Women don't make mistakes and aren't responsible, Bullshit...! Dad divorced her for being a serial cheater that gave him syphilis. She tried to fuck the Army base, and didn't 'fall ill'; she died of AIDS! Master of her own destiny..., RIGHT!"

"You never mentioned AIDS."

"Not something to be proud of. Not something to live through, so I won't!! Dad said going out was a drug to her, and each fix had to be bigger, more thrilling until she was addicted. A married woman out alone is a muddy downhill trail in the rain, saying others fell, but 'she' won't, denial at its best!"

"But David, don't you trust me?"

"You..., a Cowboy's seduction cocktail..., GHB/ecstasy..., Nope!"

"You'd blame me for being raped?!"

"Raped, no. Deliberately stupid..., maybe. Never mind, I'll be the asshole. Your rides here, if you get in the car, I won't be here when you get back."

"I WON'T BE FORCED AND INTIMIDATED!! WE'LL TALK TOMORROW!" (Click.)

"Nope."

Three years married, no kids, rental, a young couple's finances..., damn little. Time to do this.

Ambush won the battle, lost the war.