Rediscovering marital love through shared interests!
I had a ton of fun during my trip to Nicaragua this past November. Drugs and surf and sexy children galore! Cost of living is cheap down there, pennies on the dollar compared to Kauai.
“Let’s go back,” I thought. “Bring the wife this time, live it up. Lap of luxury, colonialist class!”
If only it were so easy. Been down this road before, planning with the wife. Every time the same, doing the marital power struggle dance. I want, she wants. Neither of us does compromise well, there can be only one victor.
Stage One: Free Reign
“Hey, want to go to Nicaragua later this Summer? It’s cheap, we can live like kings!”
“Yes! That sounds awesome.”
“Great. I found a neat little place, saw it last time I was there. Fun surf out front, they offer horse back riding and massages and have a bar on the beach. And they’ve got a bunch of shitty rental boards, so I don’t need to lug one down with me.”
“I thought you hate horses.”
“I do. Terrible animals. But I figured this would be perfect for you. If there are waves I can paddle out, you can ride horses or get drunk at the bar or pay some lady to rub on you while I do it. Close to town too, so we can go party or eat or whatever.”
“Oh, that sounds nice! I’m in.”
“You want to see where I’m talking about?”
“No, no big deal. Just figure it out, sounds perfect.”
Stage Two: Input
“So, I checked out that place you were talking about. It looks cute…”
“But?”
“What?”
“I feel a ‘but’ coming. It looks cute, but…”
“Well, I thought we were going to stay somewhere nice.”
“We are. It’s an an awesome spot, bar’s right there. Plenty of young trim hanging around out front, maybe we can lure some unexpecting young thing back to our room.”
“It doesn’t have a pool though.”
“It’s beachfront, why would you need a pool? Besides, you hate pools. You always complain about the chlorine and refuse to swim in them.”
“Yeah, but they look nice. I want to sit next to a pool.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re such a dick. Can we at least stay somewhere really nice the last two nights?”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Can I pick it?”
“I thought I was in charge.”
“Come on, don’t be an asshole. Let me pick.”
“I knew you were gonna do this. Fine, you pick the nice place.”
Stage Three: Encroachment
“I’ve been looking online, I found a couple really nice hotels.”
“Okay, let’s see ’em.”
“Look at this place, it’s super cute. There’s a pool in the courtyard, they bring you breakfast each morning on your private veranda…”
“That’s a balcony.”
“What?”
“It’s a normal little shitty balcony. Veranda sounds all open and cool, that’s a cramped-ass little balcony.”
“But we can eat breakfast on it each morning. It’ll be romantic.”
“Since when do we do romantic shit?”
“Look, I like the place. This is where I want to stay.”
“Where is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Where is it? That looks like it was built a long time ago, everything near the coast is new.”
“Well, it’s not that far from the beach.”
“Where is it?”
“Granada.”
“Oh, fuck you. ‘Not that far from the beach.’ Granada’s a three hour cab ride from San Juan Del Sur.”
Stage Four: Argument
“You never let me do anything I want.”
“Don’t feed me that bullshit. You said I could plan the trip, now you want to go to a totally different city on the opposite side of the fucking country.”
“It’s not on the opposite side of the country. It’s on the way to the airport.”
“It’s three hours from where I want to go. What am I supposed to do in Granada?”
“We can take a trip to Monkey Island. Look, you can hire a boat for a day trip.”
“I don’t want to go to Monkey Island. Monkeys are fucking mean and dirty.”
“Monkeys aren’t mean.”
“Yes, they are. A fucking monkey is going to attack you. Why do you really want to go there?”
“I thought you’d be stoked on Monkey Island.”
“No, you didn’t. You know how I feel about monkeys. You’re just trying to sell me. Why do you want to go there? What are you planning to do?”
“It’s just such a cool city. All the architecture…”
“It’s the fucking doors and windows, isn’t it?”
“I, uh…”
“It is. You’re planning on making me walk around a filthy fucking city in the scorching heat all day while you take pictures of fucking interesting fucking doors and fucking windows.”
“So what if I am? I’m going too. I should be able to do what I want.”
“I don’t want to take a fucking trip around Nicaragua goggling at fucking doors and windows. It’s stupid and boring. You’re an idiot.”
“Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Get some culture for once. All you do is play in the ocean, why do we need to take a trip so you can do it?”
“I like the ocean. I don’t like fucking doors and windows. And how is that even culture? Everywhere has fucking doors and windows. It’s so fucking stupid.”
“Fine, god, you’re such a fucking asshole. How about this place?
“It’s five hundred dollars a night.”
“So? You said we were going to go all luxury.”
“We still can’t afford five hundred bucks a day. That’s absurd, it’s a third world country.”
“But it’s so nice. Each room has a yoga platform…”
“What the fuck is a yoga platform? No, wait, it doesn’t matter. Because neither of us does fucking yoga!”
“Each room has a private pool.”
“Again with the pool. You’re not going to swim in it, why the fuck do you want a pool.”
“I’ll swim in it. They don’t use chlorine in them.”
“Show me where it says that.”
“What?”
“Show me on their website where it says they don’t put chlorine in the pool.”
“Well, it’s an eco-villa. I just assumed…”
“Jesus fucking christ… You’re so full of shit.”
“I hate you.”
“The feeling’s mutual..”
Stage Five: Acquiescence
“Look, okay, fine. I don’t want to fight about this, it’s supposed to be fun. We can go to Granada for two days.”
“No, we’ll go where you want. I don’t care.”
“God damn it, you do this every time. Push and push and push, and when I give in you back off. You just want me to come to your side so you can say you did what I wanted. I’m not gonna do that. But if you really want to go to Granada we will. You win.”
“It’s not about winning. You’ll have fun, you’ll see.”
“Whatever. Just pick a spot, we’ll stay there.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Yay! Okay! So, we’re gonna go to Monkey Island one day, and there’s this Sandinista Museum that’s super awesome. And I found a different hotel, it’s perfect. It’s new, this gay couple from New York just opened it. The rooms are decorated really nice. They have a three night minimum stay, so we can’t be near the beach as long, but I was thinking, if we’re going all the way to Granada, maybe we should go to León instead…”
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2 Points
1. You should never had said “But?” That’s the point where you say “Yep went ahead and booked it so don’t worry it’s all sorted, going to be great!” Then avoid her. Just make sure you do book it fairly soon after that.
2. With you on the monkeys, hate those little pricks. They always manage to look you right in the eye like they’re just waiting to gang up and eviscerate you. Even with sunglasses on and a motorcycle visor down – straight death stare right in your eyes, the whole group at once.
I was going to read this..but selling an article using the ever disgusting god-poster-child-chick-sponsor-me-i-saw-god made me sick.
“What the fuck is a yoga platform? haha killed me
can you 3 just sit down and write a book
pretty please.
yeah
I’m with you on monkeys. Ever since Bali…
They are terrifying bastards. I saw a big male get a huge wound in his side. There were gizzards oozing out but he was still running around being all tough. The others saw the opportunity and pried the bastard open. No exaggeration, this monkey was ripped in half by the others. Then they run up wanting a fucking banana? I’ll give them my home and car keys just fuck off!
A couple times I rented a motorbike to ride from Lakey Peak over into Dompu and up on a couple of the little mountain passes the monkeys would run out of the jungle and try to snatch stuff from me as I went by. It was fucking terrifying.
Nailed it.
A nice donkey punch would solve this maybe a cunt kick, ” were going to popoyo! Keeeeeeeyah!”
We had this argument a few years ago. I only had to give up one day in Granada. It is a nice city, but expect to sweat.
Wait…she’s down to rope a threesome? No wonder you married her
yep being married would make me Nica-gag-ua….. ehh ehhh ehhh
I’d love to see an “Ask Rory’s wife” column.
Oh me too!
This reads exactly like every trip I’ve ever taken with my lady friend; also a Lawyer not so interested in me playing in the surf.
Just sent her the link and received this response:
“Not about us. I plan everything – you don’t even get to step one!”
Should we start a support group for surf husbands of law wives? I’m down.
I’m in!
We are going to Indo for three weeks next weekend, she has already started “why don’t we go to the Gili islands for a few nights…. blah blah blah…”
No need, I’m totally objective. Anything she says differently is a dirty lie.
hahahha!
Is there a reason any article written by Rory isn’t titled “Me and me and me and my wife yadda yadda?”
Sorry bud.
On the bright side, there is room for improvement.
Rory your fucked as soon as word BUT is spoken.
“Nice choice dear but……”
“This place would be great but….”
marriage seems awesome
Every. Time.
I thought you would be used to giving an inch with your pin dick Rory!
Yeah, what’s up with the doors and windows thing?
#instagram
gee Rory , Drugs and surf and sexy children galore! whats ya preference little boys or girls ?
It’s 2016, do I still gotta pick?
yeah Rory , but as its you and ya wifey , do ya get a kid each or share?
When you go fishing you never really know what you’ll catch.
ah now there’s a story , you and the missus fishing for young kids , does that mean you drug them then surf them?
Maurice Cole still hates you.
I took the high road when I read this and imagined a hot (and legal) 18 year old local girl.