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xmag.com : September 2005: By Storm Large

Hey Boys and Girls! Since this is the back to school issue, here’s a small lesson in monogamy.

My friend Barry was a rock singer who became a manager and is now a high-powered industry type working for a massive record company. Even after he became “The Man” we remained super tight. I didn’t hate him until he got married.

I don’t actually hate Barry; his wife hates me. She hates any female she can’t see when he goes anywhere without her. This is tricky, since part of his job is to go out to clubs and see bands almost every night. He’s tried to take her along to ease her paranoia but she always ends up getting wasted and accusing him of wanting to fuck everyone from the bass player to the coat check girl. My being female (read: dirty scheming man-stealing whore), there is no way Barry will ever be allowed to see me or any of my shows when I’m in LA.

He could be a man, stand up to her and demand some personal freedom, but I doubt that will ever happen. I’m afraid I may never see my friend Barry again because his wife apparently, on their wedding night, went down on him, gobbled up his balls and slurped out his backbone. Sad.

I’ve heard some silly strict and old-fashioned vows at weddings, but I’ve never heard, “Will you never go out where women might be or have any fun, anywhere, ever again from this day forward until you kill yourself or wife?”
This society pushes sex and freedom on us at every turn. However, there remains the old stalwart expectation in us all to find The One: The One who completes us, The One with the answers, The One with the ass that won’t quit, The One to keep us in the lifestyle to which we have grown accustomed, etc. When you find The One, you’ll “Just Know” and then you’ll get married, marriage being the ultimate validation of a romance.
Utter crap.

Despite my opinion of marriage, I’m certainly into monogamy. Besides the pleasure of farting in bed with someone, monogamy is a medical necessity these days. Once you both get a clean bill of health and the birth control is well established (or not) you can enjoy the beauty that is condom-less fucking. The thing that sucks about monogamy is, well, you don’t get to fuck other people. BUT you don’t get embarrassing bumps, weeping cracks or unsavory odors either. (Not to mention diseases that can kill you like babies.)
The desire to permanently pair with someone is natural. We all want love and there is no shame in that. The shame lies in the shit people will tolerate to maintain a semblance of security, from the battered wife to the pussy-whipped sucker, the cuckold, the doormat, the Barry. Don’t even get me started on girls who lay the ovarian snare on guys: getting knocked up to keep a guy or to “save” a relationship. Ladies, if you aren’t interesting enough to keep a guy around for the long haul in the first place, packing on thirty plus pounds and pushing a screaming pink shit machine that requires an extra $500.00 in monthly income out of your now-tired hole isn’t gonna make you any more appealing.

At the risk of sounding old (or at least old fashioned), the most important love in your life should be yourself. Whitney Houston rocked that phrase at the Grammy’s but she still gets high and smacked around by that ugly brother she’s married to. You need to really be OK with yourself, by yourself so no one can ever manipulate or hurt you with the battle cry of “But I LOVE YOU!”

As for Barry, I can’t see a marriage held together by guilt trips and drama lasting very long, so I’m sure I’ll see him one of these days. He’ll unexpectedly show up at a gig with his tail between his legs where his testicles used to be (I foresee him losing those in the divorce).





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