"This is insane. This entire thing is insane."
"What's insane about wanting to be a good wife?" She looks genuinely confused and a little hurt. "I read articles, Santo. Actual research articles about keeping marriages exciting and fresh. About being adventurous and maintaining intimacy. About proper communication."
"Communication doesn't mean color-coded spreadsheets and swingers resort brochures!"
"Well, what does it mean then?" She challenges.
I don't have an answer for that. I genuinely don't.
She takes my silence as permission to continue. "Actually, speaking of being adventurous..." She reaches into her tote bag again. "I stopped by a shop today."
"What kind of shop?" I ask with deep fear.
She pulls out a large box. A suspiciously large box.
"An adult shop on Via Garibaldi. The woman there was incredibly helpful."
No, no, no.
She opens the box with the enthusiasm of someone opening a birthday present.
Inside are... items. Many items. In various shapes and sizes and colors that should not exist in nature.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like," she says, pulling things out and setting them on my dining table. Right next to the pasta. "I got a variety to choose from."
There's a dildo on my dining table.
Several, actually. Multiple dildos of various sizes.
"This one vibrates," she says, holding up a purple one like she's demonstrating a kitchen appliance. "And this one has different speed settings and patterns—"
"Liana, what are you doing?"
"Preparing! For marriage! For our intimate life together!" She sets them down carefully, reaching for something else in the box. "Oh, and the woman at the store suggested this one—"
She pulls out a leather harness with multiple straps and buckles.
A strap-on. She bought an actual strap-on.
She holds it up, examining it with a confused frown.
"I'm not quite sure how this works," she admits, studying the straps. "I think it goes... here?" She holds it against her hips experimentally. "Or maybe—does this strap go around the leg? The instructions are not very clear about the assembly—"
"Put that down. Right now."
"I'm just trying to figure out the mechanics—"
"Liana. Put. It. Down."
She sets it on the table with a sigh. Right next to the carbonara.
I stare at the collection now spread across my dining room table. The schedule with its color-coding. The birth control charts. The swingers resort brochures. The sex toys of various sizes and purposes.
"Let me get this straight," I say very slowly, very carefully. "You think I want scheduled sex on Tuesday mornings at 9am, a honeymoon at a swingers resort, and—" I gesture at the strap-on. "That thing in my ass?"
"I don't know what you want! That's exactly why I'm asking all of this!" She looks genuinely frustrated now. "I'm trying to be prepared. To be a good wife. To be open to whatever you might need from our marriage."
"I don't need a spreadsheet with cancellation policies!"
