RANDOM BONEHEAD ARTICLE- A WEEK OR SO PRIOR TO AARON BOONE’S GAME 7 HOMERUN IN THE BOTTOM OF THE 12TH SENT THE RED SOX HOME AND THE YANKEES INTO THE WORLD SERIES. YES – THOSE WERE THE DAYS!”Living In Sin”

So there I am. Sitting comfortably (alright nodding off nicely) in my finely appointed ass-groove on the couch. I got a nice cold beer in my left hand and my right hand neatly tucked under the waistband of my sweats. The Yankees are winning as usual on the big screen TV, there’s a bowl of snacks close by….life is pretty damned nice. Then the phone rings. Damn. I struggle to bend to my left to reach the cordless phone wondering who in the world has time to dial while Bernie Williams is at bat.

“Hello” I mutter aimlessly into the receiver.

“Hi Bone, it’s Joy!!!” shouts the voice on the other end of the phone. Nope, it’s not joy for me I realize. Oh sure, pretty girls call me all the time now. Only their happiness in reaching me on my end of the call now ends with… “Is Chrissy there?”

Of course she is. She’s here right next to me, taking up way more than two cushions on the couch. Matter of fact, she’s always there. All the time, she never leaves. That’s right. In an apparent lack of either euphoria or desperation, I actually invited Chrissy to move into my swinging bachelor pad. Perhaps I could have used a Snickers that day, but it’s all good. Sure, after several hundred years of marriage, and a couple of blissful months of bachelorhood, I decided why not jump right back in and share your space with the girl who makes all your dreams come true.

It’s interesting some of the things that change when you are suddenly thrust into the role of sharing your living arrangements. In addition to no longer feeling compelled to schedule those all-night orgies with my “internet friends” I’ve found that the life of the Bachelor Bonehead has taken quite an abrupt turn. I do realize that I’ve been through this before, as has my new roommate. However, my previous situation placed me in a shackle which took me over a dozen years to break free from, so the last couple of years of being on my own were quite welcome. But, it is true, no man deserves to feel that sort of comfort for more than two years, so, as is my duty, and my apparent obligation, I gave up most of my closet space to make way for several hundred skirts and shirts with very wide cuffs.

Now, what Chrissy may not understand is that the life of a bachelor isn’t all fun and games. It occasionally opens the mind to allow certain creative juices to flow. You may notice that this is actually the first new bridal bonehead article since February. If any of you have actually checked in to see the Valentine’s Day article – thanks! If any of you have since looked for a St. Patrick’s Day, April Fool’s, Easter, Passover, May Day, Memorial Day, Spring, D-Day or National Pig Day Bonehead Review I offer my apologies. I’ve tried many times since February (when Chrissy landed) to sit and come up with one of my helpful Bonehead articles, but ‘twas to no avail.

Because, when you co-habitate, things change. Oh, yes, they do! I’ve sat several times in front of the computer attempting to offer my advice to the soon to be wed only to come up with…

All work and no play make Jack a dull boy.  

Over and over. I don’t know why, but it just kept coming up. Then I reached tonight. I guess I have reached the point of acceptance. That, for those of you inexperienced, is a good thing. No, it doesn’t sound particularly romantic, nor is it laced with a frilly little doily as fairy tales often are. It’s real, and that is simply the only thing you may ever need to understand and accept. You’re with the right person, and you’re completely comfortable. Some people view that growing comfortable with someone is a bad thing. I don’t.

Being comfortable means never being on edge.

Being comfortable means trusting the person with whom you share that comfort. Trust, is good, and these days quite rare.

Being comfortable also means wearing clothes and hairstyles you probably wouldn’t in view of the general public. This is one of those adjustments couples who choose to move in together often need to get used to. Look, I’m not denying that I often look like Shrek after a bad bender in the morning, however….arriving home after a tough day at the office and finding your sexy gal all dolled up in clown pajama pants, a sweatshirt with a picture of Cosby and slippers that look like a smashed squirrel tends to rattle the senses in a rather odd manner. Her mouth screams that she wants a little “boom-boom” yet her outfit screams more of “Only in a blackout!” But we adjust.

Then there’s the leftover pizza. For a bachelor, one of your greatest thrills is calling a number pasted onto the refrigerator and having it turn into a pizza, often in less than 30 minutes. Mmmm…tasty pizza and breadsticks washed down with a cold Miller Lite. Life is good. It’s often even better when you place the leftover slices neatly on a dish and wrap them carefully with aluminum foil then place ‘em in the fridge. From the moment you place them in the icebox your mental countdown clock begins. Counting down the minutes to tomorrow night when you and your pizza slices reunite in a blissful meeting with the toaster oven. When you live in sin however, sometimes those dreams can turn into the most horrifying nightmare.

Imagine if you will going through your day, a typical Wednesday. Normal everyday stresses and problems, yet you temper them with the thought of a delicious warmed up slice of leftover pizza awaiting you at your home. Eventually your workday concludes and you journey homeward with your tongue ready and your mouth completely salivating over the thought of second day pizza. That will most definitely hit the spot!

You pull into the driveway with such force that you nearly pull right through the garage door. It’s only a few steps into the foyer and a quick left into the kitchen within which the fridge holds that glorious dough, sauce and cheese delight. Inside, you swipe open the door to find…..nothing. Nope, nada. No more tin foil wrapped plate with those leftover slices. No more pizza. The pit that grows fast in your stomach now falls on top of your gaping jaw which loudly crashed to the floor just moments ago.

“What happened to the pizza?” you ask of your lovely housemate.

“Oh, I had it for lunch – then I fed some to the ducks…it was yummy” Chrissy says in a voice as cute as Satan’s spawn.

Sure, while you’re out saving the world for just slightly more than minimum wage, your roommate; the girl you’ve asked to move into your home, the girl you would most certainly take a bullet for – looks you deeply in the eye and tells you that she, and she alone has devoured the object of your insatiable desire. She ate the last slices of pizza – and even gave some to the annoying ducks in the man-made pond in your backyard.

There are some who believe that man is forever forced to pay for his sins. Perhaps this is a part that goes for living together in sin. We guys learn very quickly that every bit of food, drink and sweet leaf brought into our world suddenly now belongs to “us”. It’s an adjustment when we are suddenly forced to share all of those things that once we thought belonged to us and us alone. Maybe this is a part of our penance for living in sin. Perhaps, we just allow it to happen. All I know is that it’s truly a brave new world, and one that will always leave me scratching my head and wondering….

Exactly how do I keep her away from my leftover pizza?

Ahhh – if they could only build a vacuum cleaner with a refrigerator right on board!