Mexico City

This is my take on two year marriage licenses. Enjoy!

~~~


Felicity

“It’s time David.”

He looked up the newspaper and smiled, “Of course, dear. You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You’re too sweet,” she waved a manila envelope at him, “now let’s work out our marriage like a good couple.”

*

“Salary has gone down, but so has the number of vacation days you were allowed to take.”

“I had to take a pay cut,” David looked uncomfortable, “It was that or lose my job. We’ve talked about this, Shelly.”

She nodded, “I know, babe. But we have to keep every detail fresh in our minds so that we can make an informed decision.”

“Right.”

Papers shuffled across the dining room table, “You only washed 40% of the dishes this past year. Down from 48% the year before.”

He blinked. “You were counting?”

“Weren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow. Then sighed and flipped open a top bound notebook, “It’s a little disappointing that you don’t care about the small things anymore, David.”

“I do care, honey.”

“Mmhmm,” she made a scrawling note several pages into her notebook, “We’ve been averaging less sex each week, and you haven’t been as attentive.”

“Um.”

“And you only got me two gifts for Christmas.”

“You said you liked them!”

“I did, dear. But if it’s a choice between two or three, what do you think you’d choose?”

He ran a hand over his face, “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, “John. Makes six figures,” she met his eyes, “Three times as much as you. And he says he would get me at least five presents each Christmas.”

“This is not a big deal, Shelly! I can get you more presents!”

“It’s not about the presents, David. I can’t believe you’d make this about materialism. This is our marriage we’re talking about.”

“I know, Shelly. I’m just saying –ˮ

“Charlie,” she consulted her notes, “says he’s willing to make a contractual obligation of sex six times a week.”

“That doesn’t mean –ˮ

“He’s a masseuse, David.”

His shoulders slumped.

“It’s a tough field, babe. You won my heart, and I love you very much.” She pushed aside her notes, “But you can’t rest on your laurels. We can’t afford to be complacent.”

“I’ll try harder. I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He leaned across the table and took her hands in his, “I love you.”

She smiled, “And I love you too. But the facts are clear.” She gently pulled her hands away, “You can’t compete.”

The papers were carefully placed back into the manila envelope. She walked around the table and ran her fingers through his hair, “If things change – you can always re-apply in a couple years.”

*