Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Husband Knows Dick: Language of Love

(Because I care)

What is your language of love? I don't really care. If you're a commenter here it is probably Zima, GHB, and rodents. But that was the question Mrs. Ace and I were asked this weekend.

Despite already being married, we had to meet with the pastor to see if we were deemed fit to be married--which makes perfect sense, since he made us get married in June, but whatever. Mrs. Ace and I filled out this 250 question survey and it was time for us to discuss the results, as well as watch a video about the five languages of love. It turns out my language of love is quality time, but that's only because blumkins weren't an option.

Anyways, this 250 question survey had a series of statements about different parts of a relationship, and then I had to choose how much I agreed on a scale of 1-5; 1= strongly disagree, 5= strongly agree. When I fill out my survey I keep it very agreeable, the last thing I need is somebody who has never met me telling me how to improve a relationship. I assumed Mrs. Ace would do the same. As it turns out, I was wrong.

Mrs. Ace just threw me under the bus, making me look like I'm fucking Chris Benoit. Okay, maybe not that bad. But there were some statements like, "I feel my partner gets household chores done on time." I would answer a 4 because that's pretty much what I answered for everything positive. Mrs. Ace drops a 2 on me. Like I'm not the one who takes out the trash every time, or cooks almost every meal, or does the majority of the laundry. But whatever, it's household chores, I would rather come off like a normal guy who doesn't know how to operate a dishwasher than a twat who walks around in an apron.

Then, there is a statement like this, "My partner makes an effort to come up with new ideas and makes our love life enjoyable." My answer, 5. No guy is saying anything less than five here. Mrs. Ace's answer...3. Well fuck me in the ass. Christ, now the guy thinks I'm fucking impotent. At first, I'm a little shaken by this. No guy wants to see that. Evan Stone has taught me everything I know, no way his teachings would let me down. But then my mind begins to wonder.

Did I just get a green light to do all kinds of freaky shit because Mrs. Ace is a closet freak? Does she want to dress up in a Hooters outfit and have me come in in a Chipper Jones jersey? Does she want to bring in another girl? That's all I could think of for the last half of the meeting. Did this pastoral meeting really just open up the door to mass debauchery?

Nope. Mrs. Ace put a 3 because she didn't feel comfortable putting a 5 and having the pastor see it because we are 13 and can only hold hands, I guess. So now the pastor thinks I have the game of a tard, Mrs. Ace thinks it's funny, and I am disappointed on so many levels. What is the moral to this story? Not a fucking clue.

7 comments:

Grumpy said...

I can loan you some of my little blue pills; fix you right up and erase that frown from Mrs. Ace's face.

GMoney said...

Evan Stone has taught me everything I know, no way his teachings would let me down.

Don't change, Mr. Quality Time. Evan will never steer you wrong.

Mr. Ace said...

Grump, I may need a little more. Would you happen to have some purple pills too?

Grumpy said...

I got some purple drank. Got the recipe from my boy JaMarcus.

Johnny B said...

Moral of the story? Tell your pastor to stay the fuck out of your sex life. The only reason he asks is because he's run out of altar boys and needs you to replenish his spank bank. Next time you 2 see that freak, you and She$ knock some out right there on the altar, then ask, "Who's a 5 now bitch?". That ought to tide him over.

GMoney said...

Calm down, Johnny, I didn't write this. But going all Evan Stone on an altar is an interesting idea.

Mr. Ace said...

For the record, the pastor was very nice and didn't make us discuss anything with him.

But Johnny, if he fucks up the ceremony your suggestion will be strongly considered.