The Woes and Sorrows of the North American Housewife

Note from the author: *A Work of Fiction*

So one day way back, circa 1950 or something, when I was "younger", I got a letter from this sweet young housewife. Now I have a problem with names and when I think of this letter, I completely forget it... so we'll just call her Jane. Here's her letter:

Dear Danni,

I have a problem with my husband. Now I know what you're thinking, but it's not what you think it is. My husband Howard treats me like a house servant. When we met he treated me like a princess, he took me out to nice dinners, we went to the latest movies (Camille was by far the best movie I ever saw!) and he bought me the nicest dresses I could ever dream of. Now I cook half-burned grocery store food, watch reruns on tv, and the nicest thing he bought me was a new mop. I cook, I clean, and I take care of our six kids. What can I do?

Signed, Looking-Un-Comfortable-Yet

I duely replied...

LUCY,

You're problem is very relatable for a lot of wives out there. He suffering from a sever case of what is called, marriage. Frank Sinatra said it best when he said "love and marraige go together like a horse and carriage." It's a convinience, my dear. Some men start off being Prince Charming, but then they just end up being toads... and the scary thing is you don't want to kiss them again... EVER. As for who is to blame, it certainly isn't his, nor yours for that matter. The fault is to the person who instigated the idea of marriage... I would say it was the priest or pastor who married you, but I don't dare deal in political or religious scandals. No, I blame the parents personally. They should be held responsible for your misery. They should have taught him how to better behave in a marital situation. I mean why treat you like Cinderella out of the ball, when he should be treating you like Cinderella at the ball. Now for the solution. My dear, you can jump-start his cold pulse by rekindleing the romance. Go to a clothing store. Nothing to fancy, maybe Macy's and by some sexy lingerie... and maybe a crop whip. The rest you can figure out on your own, but just remember to teach him who his "Mama" is.

Best of Luck,
Danni.

****

Okay, obviously not the best advice I'm given, but do I look like Ask Agnes? Not at all. Well, a few months later, I recieved a letter from LUCY again. She said she thanked me very much for the advice, and that it worked like a charm. Her and her husband and children have moved out of Howard's parents house and into a nicely sized apartments. Her children are in a good school instead of being home-schooled. And LUCY's staying at home has even gotten her the job of being a dominatrix. Boy that little crop whip sure gest around. But moral of the story is, don't give advice unless you know what you're talking about. I'm not married, nor do I have children, so who am I to give advice to a poor 1950's wife.

And as a side note, if you think Camille is a good movie (not that I've seen it or anything) then you MUST be really really really old!

Until next we meet, my readers.