I love my wife very much. We've been together well before any amount of success rolled my way. In fact, she gets a ton of credit for it. You see, I need a woman who will let me act like I'm nine years old. I need someone to listen to my outrageous goals and dreams, only to pat me on the head and walk out of the room. I need someone to inspire me while I play Call Of Duty 4. My girl is all of these things. However, there is ONE problem  .... she's white.

Shari understands that I spend most of my day fantasizing. Sometimes it's about where I want my career to take me. Other times It's about really effecting the universe is a positive manner. But when the planets align, it shifts to the women of South America. Sure their smoking hot, but I think my wife is too. I've thought long and hard about this, and I think I now know why. Linguistics.

I think about Sonata walking into the bedroom, with her olive skin, wearing those nasty, white high heels. She leans forward and whispers in my ear "I know we'll always be together, because we deceive each other." I softly correct her, "You mean deserve each other." Then she tenderly repeats the quick english  lesson, "Jess, we deesurve each other." As we both fall back on the bed, my exotic lady looks out the window into the starry night and say's out loud, but to herself, "I get so sleepy when the clowns come in." Oh Sonata, you mean when the clouds come in." I reply.

Then the fantasy stops right there. I can't get past that point and as a dude, it's really frustrating. I guess the lesson is that I do need someone I understand and most of all, someone who understands me. I realize that I'm really lucky to have that. Guess what I got Shari for Valentines Day? A membership to a tanning booth.