he could probably pick Knight’s giant cock out of a lineup. I haven’t slept in like three days because I know the second I close my eyes Ken is going to go, “Shh, shh, shh,” and smother me with a pillow.
Tell me what to do. Please!
FROM: SARA SNOW
TO: BB EASTON
DATE: THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 10:01 P.M.
SUBJECT: RE: SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL.
For starters, you should check your browser history. If whatever he read in your journal was that bad then he probably used your computer to secure a safe house while he was at it. I’m going to save this email in case you get disappeared.
P.S. Why in the motherfuck didn’t you password-protect your porn journal?
Sara Snow, PhD
Associate Professor, Department of Psychology, (name of university deleted)
FROM: BB EASTON
TO: SARA SNOW
DATE: THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 10:13 P.M.
SUBJECT: RE: SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL.
I know! I’m an idiot! I just honestly didn’t think it was necessary. Ken never pays attention to anything I’m working on. I don’t even think he knows that all the photos and paintings hanging in this house are mine. Plus, he’s trying to watch all five seasons of The Wire and manage, like, four fantasy football leagues simultaneously right now. Who knew that fucker would pay enough attention to my covert typing to get suspicious?
I’m freaking out, Sara. It’s like he’s icing me or playing fucking mind games or something. Instead of dousing my computer with gasoline and piss, which would have been justified, he took me on a date. What the fuck is that?!?! Like, got a sitter, picked a restaurant, AND preordered movie tickets! I assumed he was going to serve me with papers at dinner since it was all so formal and out of character, but it was actually a really nice date. He didn’t even make his usual complaint about the fact that he “could have purchased an entire vineyard” for the price of my one glass of pinot g either.
Oh! OH! Then, after dinner, when I backed Ken into our bedroom so that I could say thanks by riding his lifeless body for a few minutes, he actually stopped me and asked if I wanted to try anything new. NEW! (As in, new to him, obviously. For a sex act to be new to me it would require a stolen college mascot uniform, twelve yards of rappelling cable, a handful of gerbils, and thirty CCs of vampire blood.)
And get this shit! The next day Ken tells me that he’s booked another sitter for next month so that we can go see David Koechner at The Punchline. Who is this man??? (Ken, not David Koechner. I know who he is, and he’s fucking hilarious.)
Maybe he’s going to off me at The Punchline? It is in a super sketchy neighborhood…
FROM: SARA SNOW
TO: BB EASTON
DATE: THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 10:35 P.M.
SUBJECT: RE: SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL.
Um, it sounds to me like you just discovered the holy fucking grail of martial behavior modification techniques, B! Ken’s not icing you! He’s responding to your intervention! Now that he’s read your porn journal and knows how bored and undersexed you are, he’s making the appropriate adjustments, and you didn’t even have to say anything! You’re a fucking sorceress!
You know what you need to do, right? What you need to do is start planting really exaggerated stories in there now so you can milk this shit for all it’s worth. Oh my God…and I’M going to do a longitudinal study on the outcome so that I can go on Good Morning America and tell Robin Roberts how women across the country can save their marriages through Subliminal Spousal Bibliotherapy! You just got me tenure and an Audi R8, bitch!
Sara Snow, PhD
Associate Professor, Department of Psychology, (name of university deleted)
FROM: BB EASTON
TO: SARA SNOW
DATE: THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 10:48 P.M.
SUBJECT: RE: SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL.
You.
Evil.
Fucking.
Genius.
I’m in. And I already have a list of target behaviors for progress monitoring:
1. The procurement of a motherfucking heart tattoo with my name on it
2. The initiation of hot, steamy, passionate hair-pulling sex
3. The giving of compliments
4. And the bestowment of a nickname
For data collection purposes, you can just set the baseline at zero in all four categories. Yes, zero—as in, none of those things have ever happened in the history of my marriage. So, the way I see it, we have nowhere to go but up. I’ll keep you abreast of my progress. (Pun intended!)
Also, you should probably go ahead and start saving for the Stella McCartney shift dress and fancy