There isn't a man I know that doesn't think I'm the luckiest man in the world. The reason is my wife, Barbie. It's absolutely amazing but she's the walking, talking personification of the number one selling doll of all time - Barbie.
Barbie is exactly like her doll namesake in that she is an absolutely gorgeous blond who personifies every man's fantasy of the ideal woman. She's tall, elegant, with a creamy complexion, an almost constant smile, and deep violet blue eyes that would put Elizabeth Taylor to shame. She even has the same proportional measurements as the Barbie doll: 5 feet 9 inches tall, 110 pounds, with a 36 inch chest, 22 inch waist, and 33 inch hips. Even her body mass index is 17, like Barbie's. Her body looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo instead of Mattel.
Heads turn whenever she walks by, both men's and women's, and the pop-eyed stares are nonstop. We can't go anywhere without someone whispering as we pass and the effect she has on the weaker men is comical to say the least. I once saw a man do a double-take gawking at her and walk into a lamp post. And the number of scowling women elbowing their husbands in the ribs telling them to come back down to earth is also an everyday occurrence. The effect she has on people is both amazing and comical.
And the amazing things she can do in bed would take volumes to describe. So I should feel blessed to turn over in the middle of the night and put my arm over the most stunning woman in the world, but I don't. You see I have a problem. Barbie may be a knockout but she's also a chronic cheater. It's not like she's an evil person she's just weak. And she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer either.
Me, I'm closer in looks to
Star Wars
' Jabba the Hutt. But what I lack in looks, I more than make up for in smarts. My IQ is so far off the chart it's immeasurable. I got my first PhD in the same four years that everybody else got their Bachelor's degree. After that I got two more. Now I'm working on my Juris Doctor, my first law degree. I may have an overabundance of intelligence but the most remarkable thing about me is that I don't seem to have any moral boundaries. Most people call what I'm missing ethics or scruples or conscience but I like to think of them as handicaps. Without them anything, and I do mean anything, is possible. I'm not hamstrung with worrying that one or the other business deal I'm working on will put a hundred people out of work. I'm also not concerned that someone getting in my way might just end up in a dumpster. As long as it makes money for the man I work for, so be it. Oh, and the man I work for prefers it that way too. He also prefers to remain anonymous in all business dealings. He sets a goal, provides the resources, and gets out of the way while I make his dream a reality. As of today I haven't failed him on anything. A lot of what I've done wasn't exactly legal mind you, but my employer remains happy and that makes me happy, and also very rich.
I think that's one of the reasons why Barbie loves me, or says she does, because I have more money than I could ever spend in two lifetimes. And like I've heard said about the real Barbie doll, "The bitch has everything."
Everybody in my world knows that I absolutely adore my wife. My love for her is absolute and I couldn't imagine life without her. I dote on her and shower her with anything she wants. She has her own personal jewelry consultant at Tiffany's. We've gone on lavish vacations all over the world and have spent time in palaces and on secluded islands. I've even been known to buy an entire truck load of stuff just so she could have that one item she's always wanted. Everybody also knows that she is 100% off limits to anybody and everybody. I don't mind the occasional dance or two but when some pussy-hound comes sniffing around Barbie my hackles go up and they go down.
But I can't be there all the time and occasionally the pussy-hounds have succeeded in getting between her long exquisite legs. I think I've found out about each one but there are just too many moths out there attracted to her flame. And the one thing they all have in common -- they're all stupid as hell and now they're all dead as hell.
I don't want to put a harness on Barbie, it would break her spirit and I love her too much to do that. I could never put cameras in every room of the house to watch her 24-7, or inject some sort of a GPS tracker bug in her to know where she is at all times, or tattoo across her forehead "OFF LIMITS." We're together most of the time anyway but the times we're apart, usually because I have to be away on business, I just have to trust her. It's all the other men in the world I don't trust. And the few times she's been unfaithful to me I've handled decisively, once and for all, finally.
Like I said, Barbie isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Oh, she's lovable and kind hearted and well meaning but she just isn't aware of things going on around her. For example, there was a good looking middle-aged man building a new house down the street from ours and was always sitting in his Mercedes watching the workers work. He saw Barbie and started talking to her and hanging around while I was out doing what I do and before you know it he had invited himself to go swimming in our pool. Of course Barbie went swimming with him and if you've ever seen Barbie in her tiny red bikini, let me tell you it would make your tongue hard. Before I got home that evening mister middle-aged asshole had enjoyed my wife's ample charms. How do I know? We have a nosey maid and she saw them, in her words, "doing the nasty out on the lounge furniture that I now have to clean up." I think she was more concerned that she had to clean up his mess than Barbie's infidelity. I had a little talk with him a few days later and he gave me a wise-ass smirk as he made some crack about my manhood. I just smiled back at him and bid him a good day. Two days later he had an unfortunate accident while sitting in his car watching his house being built. It seems that a load of paving stones 'accidentally' fell off the loader as it was being hoisted overhead and crushed him and his shitty little car into a two-foot tall pile of scrap metal. A month later I bought the uncompleted house from his widow at a rock bottom price. Barbie never knew anything about his unfortunate accident and he never came over for a swim, or a little of my wife ever again.
And that's how I handled Barbie's other indiscretions -- Terminally, finally.
Over drinks one evening one of my so called friends asked me if it wasn't cheaper and wiser to get rid of one cheating wife rather than a whole host of her lovers. I told him that I couldn't get rid of one rose just because its thorn pricked my finger when I touched it to smell it. I loved her, not because she was the epitome of beauty but because of the innocent woman-child she was. I could never lift a finger against her. And while I was saying all this I noticed a slight look of contempt on his face. It took two months but I finally found out that my so called friend had enjoyed Barbie in our bed one weekend I was away on business. He too suffered an unfortunate and quite fatal boating accident.
But the more I thought about what he said the more it gnawed at me. Barbie was incapable of understanding her marriage vows and every man, and maybe every woman too who wanted her could have her. She loved me but compartmentalized 'us' in a different cubbyhole from the people she slept with. I had to find a way to get her to understand the hurt it caused me every time I had to settle up with somebody she fucked.
My first thought was psychotherapy. I found a therapist who owed me a favor and filled him in on the situation. He agreed to start sessions with her and discuss the rights and wrongs of what she was doing and how it affected our marriage. But before they started I took a few minutes to casually explain to him what I would do if I caught him and Barbie together sexually. I think he heard me because he was totally professional as he met with Barbie two times a week. After six months he quit saying she couldn't understand what she was doing that was wrong, no matter what approach he tried. Okay, I tried psychotherapy and it failed. Now I had to do it my own way.
I found an opportunity about three months later when our maid complained to me again about some man's mess on the new quilt on our bed. I resolved to get Barbie to stop once and for all so I went out of town on business again, or so I told her. Sure enough some Adonis looking blond haired young man drove up in a nice red Corvette while I was sitting in my car down the street working on my laptop. I only had to wait 20 minutes for the moving van to show up and after it parked in the driveway behind the Corvette I went inside to surprise my beautiful wife. And I did surprise her big time.
