Notes from a Marriage: The Dildo Incident

By

Once upon a time, I accidentally started a relationship crisis by calling my husband a dildo.

In my defense, I thought it was hilarious.

Apparently, this perspective is not universally shared.

He was not amused.

In fact, he was deeply offended.

While I sat there laughing at the sheer absurdity of the word itself — dildo! — he sat across from me scowling like I had just personally insulted his entire creative being.

Which made me wonder… why?

Was it because he felt objectified?

Like an object with no soul — merely a device of pleasure?

Or was he simply offended that I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe?

Possibly both.

The moment itself came out of nowhere. He had been speaking to me in the way he does after smoking — a long, wandering philosophical monologue that began with the meaning of life, drifted into conspiracy theories about squirrels, and somehow ended with why cheese burgers might be spiritually significant.

Usually this kind of rambling irritates me.

But this time, instead of annoyance, I felt amusement bubbling up.

And before I could stop myself, the words escaped my mouth.

“You’re a DILDO.”

Then the hysterics began.

Tears. Wheezing. The full production.

Meanwhile, he looked absolutely stricken.

The expression on his face suggested I had either:

A) told him a devastating story about an evil puppy killer

B) calmly informed him I had gotten down with someone else

In a rare moment of coherent thought — and even rarer communication — Mr. Stoney Baloney explained that he was genuinely hurt.

I had insulted him.

And of course, I apologized. Because hurting his feelings had not been my goal. The insult was unintentional.

To conclude this unnecessarily dramatic exchange, I will say three things.

One: I apologized.

Two: his feelings were valid.

Three:

Just don’t be a dildo…

Leave a comment