Stories tagged marriage

Reading the Writing on the Wedding Cake

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In a line behind her were a series of naked and muscular men, dressed only in white paper bakery hats.

The cycle of being married to Somebody

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Here is confinement. Here ties his enthusiasm to his waist and chains his ankles to obscurity. He must be there, sharing his face, telling his news, receiving his praise.

Seven in the Club

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We're in Las Vegas in a club—think Studio 54—and the guy who keeps buying me drinks has asked me to marry him. He's wearing a t-shirt and jeans—so it can't actually be Studio 54—and his t-shirt has the number 7 on it, like a sports jersey, only th

Her Dream Princes

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They live a simple life..two solitudes by lamplight.

Dr. Dick Destroyed the Delicate Balance of My Unhappy Marriage

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Setting down the ceramic mug I gruffly and finally understood that the only thing that made me happy was her continual unhappiness, so fuck that new car and haircut. Dr. Dick is going to receive two nasty emails: One from me, and one from my lawyer.

Cookie Monster's Harem in the Sky

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Last week I came home early from work and caught my wife having sex with the Cookie Monster.

Things I Should Have Done - #3

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Should I have shooed the cats from my bed? Shaken awake the silky tangle of feline true love curled at my feet? Shut their bedroom door against them? Perhaps, maybe, I don’t know.

Tribal Elder

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"Look at this," she says while thumbing through the guide book, "look at what we can do on Jooga Booga island. Says here, 'Parasailing over the sapphire blue sea, one soars hundred of feet above water-skiers, boaters, and snorkelers, and the picture is b


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She could live there forever, in that smokey memory...

Abre La Puerta

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My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.

Ten years later

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Are you asleep? He says. Wake up.

How I Used to Ponder Stars

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Whenever I asked Beth, what if Star Wars was real somewhere, she’d reply, the Empire’s dead, babe.


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The day he was servedwith divorce papersin the drivewayhe came to our roomand looking perplexedsaid, "Does this meanwe can't have sex tonight?"Things changedbut all things consideredthings haven't changed much.


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He likes to watch me, unseen,in the head heavy with griefleaning against the cold tiles;my bulging bellyoverhanging with untold secrets;my Botticelli flankaching from a neglected spine;the clear waterrunning down my legsdiffused with the urineof failed…


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I have done this beforethis looking for my lost selfbut always with the goalof getting his interest backwhere it belonged,arranging myself seductivelyon the bed or in the kitchen:the two battlegrounds for winning a man.Or so I was told.Now I want to know only myselfnot the…