I just love this picture. He’s absolutely surly when his adventures are interrupted. He loves the bathtub. Sometimes he hides in between the outside shower curtain and the tub, waiting to strike invisible things (and sometimes not-so-invisible things, like toes). Sometimes he just lays in the tub. The faucet used to leak, so he’d sit in the tub and drink the water. He’s quite unhappy about the fact that the leak was fixed and now he’s relegated to a water bowl in my room.

I scheduled an appointment with a Denver-based vet to renew his vaccinations, which I’ve sorely neglected since 2010 (oops). Come Saturday, October 6, we will have a healthy, vaccinated and absolutely upset chicken. I’m also anticipating some discussion about his weight, but I did some googling, and for his size (big and solid, tank-like), he actually may be in a healthy(ish) weight range (about 15 pounds – meat on his bones, but still agile and active). I may try to lure him onto our bathroom scale just to see if I can get a read beforehand, so I can prepare some excuses other than, “But doesn’t he look snuggly?” and “He can jump pretty high,” which will undoubtedly fall flat and make me sound like an idiot. Besides, if FIV and cancer haven’t killed him, I highly doubt we have to worry about diabetes.

On a lesser note, here’s the worst thing I read all day:

Waiting till the wedding night – getting married the right way

By Steven Crowder

Published September 14, 2012

FoxNews.com

• The author and his wife on his wedding day in August 2012. (Courtesy of the author.)

As anyone who’s read my abstinence column here at Fox News Opinion could guess, my wedding is something that I’ve looked forward to for quite some time. After having tied the knot at the end of August, I can now say beyond all shadow of a doubt, that it was everything I’d hoped and prayed that it would be since childhood. (I’d also prayed to be bitten by a radioactive spider and develop sticky hands, but… I was an idiot.)

Let me preface this column by saying this: my wife (I have to get used to saying that) and I not only waited sexually in every way (no, we didn’t pull the Bill Clinton and technically avoid “sex” sex,) but we didn’t shack up as live-ins and most importantly, we courted each other in a way that was consistent with our publicly professed values.

We did it right.

Our wedding was perfect. Our wedding night was nothing short of amazing. I write this on a plane heading into a tropical paradise with the most beautiful woman to have walked the planet earth.

–

Feeling judged? I couldn’t care less. You know why? Because my wife and I were judged all throughout our relationship. People laughed, scoffed and poked fun at the young, celibate, naive Christian couple.

We’d certainly never make it to the wedding without schtupping, and if we did, our “wedding night would be awkward and terrible,” they said.

Turns out that people couldn’t have been more wrong.  Looking back, I think that the women saying those things felt like the floozies they ultimately were, and the men, with their fickle manhood tied to their pathetic sexual conquests, felt threatened.

I think it’s important to write this column not to gloat (though I’ll be glad to), but to speak up for all of the young couples that have also done things the right way. When people do marriage right, they don’t complain so much, and so their voices are silenced by the rabble of promiscuous charlatans, peddling their pathetic world view as “progressive.”

Our wedding was perfect. Our wedding night was nothing short of amazing. I write this on a plane heading into a tropical paradise with the most beautiful woman to have walked the planet earth. I know everybody says that their bride was the “most beautiful in the world.”  They’re wrong. I win.

I’d like to tell you a story of our morning after, however. One that transpired into one of the most glaring epiphanies I’d ever had.

As my wife (again, still not used to that) and I ate breakfast at a local inn, we discussed how excited we were to start the rest of our lives together, how scary it was that everything was now so different. At the same time, we overheard the table next to us discussing their very own wedding from the night prior. What a coincidence!

“The thing is, nothing’s really changed,” the bride said.

Puzzled, my wife asked, “Did you get married last night too? So did we!”

“Congratulations!” the other dame said. “Yeah we did, just last night.”

“Where’s the groom?” my wife innocently… scratch that, naively asked.

“Oh, he’s sleeping. There was no way he was coming out with me this morning!” She paused and smirked. “Let’s just say that he’s got a lingering headache from a really good time last night.”

My heart sank. Firstly, that poor schmuck’s “good time” was simply getting snookered. Not enjoying the company of close family and long-lost friends with a clear head and clean conscience, not staring in awe at his beautiful new wife, wanting to soak in every glimmer of her eyes as she shot him heart-racing looks from across the dance floor, not taking all of the cheesy pictures as they cut the cake, not even carrying her across that suite threshold as they nervously anticipated their “nightcap.” He probably won’t remember any of it. Instead, he got smashed. He was “that guy”… at his own freaking wedding.

Then I realized something. Our wedding was truly a once in a lifetime event. It was a God’s-honest celebration of two completely separate lives now becoming one. Physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually, everything that made us who we were individually was becoming what bonded us together. Our family traveled from far and wide to celebrate the decision of two young people to truly commit themselves to each other, and selflessly give themselves to one another in a way that they never had before that very night.

The people next to us that morning? Well, theirs was just one big party.  And the morning after? Just another hangover.

Our “weddings” were the same event in name only. They know it, and we know it.

Do yours the right way.  If you’re young and wondering whether you should wait, whether you should just give in, become a live-in harlot/mimbo and do it the world’s way.  If you’re wondering whether all of the mocking, the ridicule, the incredible difficulty of saving yourself for your spouse is worth it, let me tell you without a doubt that it is. Your wedding can be the most memorable day and night of your life… or just another party.

Oops. Did I just make a “judgment?”  You’re darn right I did.

Steven Crowder is a comedian and Fox News contributor. Follow him on Twitter@scrowder.

Read more (if you can bear it). 

 

I went to Catholic schools, so here’s a quick rundown of my school-based sex education experience (from memory, so some of my dates may be off):

-1995: Sign pledge to Pope John Paul II that I won’t do drugs, have pre-marital sex, or drink.
-2000: Have discussions about reproductive organs and anatomy in science class. 7th grade?
-2004: Morality class in high school. All things immoral are discussed, including a very offensive discussion about my own broken family structure. To this day, I despise the man who taught this class. He would later be fired.
-2005: Relationships and Sexuality Class in high school. I am often called Sister Katherine sarcastically by the teacher. We are visited by a guest speaker, who held out a rose and proceeded to give a lesson that went something like, “You sleep with Bob,” then she paused and plucked off a petal. This went on through Jim, and Sam, and Sean, and Thomas, and Leonard, and Leopold, and Sebastian, and so on, until all the petals were gone. Then she held out the stem and said dramatically, “Is this what you want to give your future husband on your wedding night!?” (I remember being very amused by the limited number of “uses” a vagina gets.)
-2006-2010: College. I take sociology and gender studies classes and graduate with a minors in Sociology and Women’s Studies and Gender Studies (and English, but that’s a hot mess of sexual crazy too, so it totally counts. Hemingway, anyone? Shakespeare?). My senior capstone ethnography about BDSM in Chicago is still a subject of discussion today.

You’ll note that I missed important lessons like, “Respect and Sex: What Every Girl Should Know” and “How to Have Safe Sex” and “Birth Control Laws in Your State.” Thank goodness I’m a very proficient Googler and a quick learner.

Back to this dude and his “Waiting til the wedding night makes me a better person than you” stance: Abstinence in itself is a great choice. But abstinence isn’t the only choice. And to say that abstinence prevents 100% of sexually transmitted infections is correct. And 100% of unintended pregnancies. Again, correct.

But wait a minute, because this dude is forgetting a lot of stuff, including the fact that STIs and pregnancies are on the rise because abstinence-only education fails to teach our kids common sense. Trust me, because I had a very religious friend (extremely incredibly religious) who practiced abstinence. Guess what happened? He lost his virginity. He thought you could use two condoms and be double-safe (you can’t). He is now a father. The reason he’s a father isn’t because of his faith, it’s because his lack of education led him to do some really dumb things. (But the baby is adorable.)

This guy obviously has such a great view of sex:

I think that the women saying those things felt like the floozies they ultimately were, and the men, with their fickle manhood tied to their pathetic sexual conquests, felt threatened.

Oh yeah? Throughout the article, he throws around words like “floozie”, “harlot”, “promiscuous” and “charlatans.” Let’s imagine for a minute a few possible scenarios: what if his lovely new wife had been promiscuous before she’d met him? Would he still have accepted her and loved her and worshiped her on their wedding night? Or would he never let her forget it? (Google the Duggars – Michelle totally did some dirty stuff before she married Jim Bob and he has never let it go. It’s like Original Sin all over again, except the punishment is having your husband rub it in on national television and reminded you that you’re probably still being smited by God for it. But then again, maybe being married to Jim Bob is punishment in itself. God does seem to have a sick sense of humor.)

Imagine that they’re sexual incompatible for some reason. Imagine that they hadn’t discussed their desires, their needs, etc. before marriage and come time to have their “nightcap” (as the author so creepily puts it), they find that they’re a horrible match. Now what?

But really, the fact that they waited doesn’t bother me. I support it. What I don’t support is the attitude, the judgement, and the juvenile approach to the discussion (he’s afraid to talk about sex as sex, and instead, uses words like “schtupping”). I don’t support people who don’t support education, who don’t advocate for more information. I also don’t support people who can’t use their big-boy words when they talk about something.

He says “The people next to us that morning? Well, theirs was just one big party.” I want my wedding to be one big party! It’s a celebration! There will be champagne! There will be cake! There will be dancing and love and family and tea lights! Why should a wedding be – pardon the pun – stiff and uncomfortable?

Do yours the right way.  If you’re young and wondering whether you should wait, whether you should just give in, become a live-in harlot/mimbo and do it the world’s way.  If you’re wondering whether all of the mocking, the ridicule, the incredible difficulty of saving yourself for your spouse is worth it, let me tell you without a doubt that it is. Your wedding can be the most memorable day and night of your life… or just another party.

 

…

 

Then I realized something. Our wedding was truly a once in a lifetime event. It was a God’s-honest celebration of two completely separate lives now becoming one. Physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually, everything that made us who we were individually was becoming what bonded us together. Our family traveled from far and wide to celebrate the decision of two young people to truly commit themselves to each other, and selflessly give themselves to one another in a way that they never had before that very night.

Can people who’ve experienced intercourse not come together, emotionally, financially, and spiritually? I think they can. I think that love is more than any physical activity, and that marriage should be celebrated happily and truthfully. And this whole selflessly giving themselves to each other business is cool and all, but to say that you’re a better person because you have only slept with one person makes you a judgmental douche.

I will marry happily and celebrate wildly and I won’t worry because all that really matters is that the love is pure and honest and not pretentious or based on the perception of the value of something so fragile as the concept of virginity or “fickle manhood” and floozies.

To quote our dear freshly married friend, “Oops. Did I just make a “judgment?”  You’re darn right I did.”

P.S. Will someone tell me what a “mimbo” is?

(Why do cats and virgins go together? They don’t. I just wanted to post about both. But honestly, I love Carlos as much as I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. And he comes with a rough past, some diseases, you know. We love each other. Some day, I hope to find a man with as much character – although hopefully not feline AIDS – to love and honor and cherish. But not obey. That’s why they’re not so different. They’re all full of history and love and commitment.)

I didn’t sleep well last night, waking at 5 am to the sound of steady rain. I was so happy to hear the rain that I stayed awake in the dark, soothed by the sounds of water droplets on the leaves and the cool air blowing through the open window.

Colorado seems to be welcoming the cooler weather with open arms, and I’m embracing the fact that it’s finally time to wear tights (black tights are my favorite thing in the whole world). We missed the usually wonderful thunderstorm season, which I love. There’s nothing like watching the sky light up purple and listening to the cracks of thunder as the storm rolls around you. Since I didn’t get that this year, I’ll embrace fall rain, hot lattes, and that strange back-to-school feeling of productivity I feel in the fall.

That’s all I’ve got today. Sorry for the lack of posts lately – I’ve been absolutely unbearably overwhelmed. I’ll work on it, I promise!

Things are not always as they seem. (Obviously.)

1. My phone rings. It’s the dad from one of the families that I babysit for. I answer. “I can’t text you because my wife sometimes reads my texts,” he says. I’m thinking, This has got to be the worst lead-in to a conversation ever. 

“It’s our anniversary this weekend,” he continues. “I want to surprise her with a trip to the spa. Is there any way you’d be available to help me chase the kids around while she’s at the spa?” Awww, my heart swells three sizes. Of course, I tell him.

Unfortunately, health issues prevented them from being able to go through with their plans. But I think that’s so sweet of them. Also, I’m impressed with that fact that they’ve been married for so long. They seem to attack everything like a team, even though I appreciate that they both fully understand each other’s quirks and differing parenting styles.

2. I parked at the curb and then went to walk into the liquor store. As I was walking across the sidewalk a man with truly awesome but certifiably crazy hair, wearing a leather vest and no shirt, who had passed me did a quick double-back (he would have screeched to a halt had he been driving or running), and then ran in front of me to stand by the liquor store door. I’m not usually afraid of much – to my credit, I’ve lived in Chicago (Rogers Park) and the southern suburbs of Cape Town (however briefly), so I’m used to seeing unusual things as usual – but I honestly thought I was about to get mugged. Instead, he bowed and then held the door open for me before continuing down the street. I thanked him profusely and smiled all the way to the checkout counter. It was cute and it made my whole day.

The third bit isn’t exactly a perception thing, but I felt like a dumbass this morning when I left early to get to a dentist appointment. I couldn’t find the reminder card that they mail you, and I hadn’t gotten a phone reminder, but I thought that maybe it just had something to do with the fact that yesterday was a holiday. So I trekked all the way out to my dentist’s office, feeling proud of myself for arriving ten minutes early.

I was standing, unsure, at the check in desk and a lady who is not the kindly receptionist approached me. “Do you need something?” she asked. I stammered a no and then took my seat. Then I overheard the two receptionists (who are the nicest people ever and have been working there for as long as I can remember) talking about me.

“Am I early?” I asked.

“Your appointment isn’t until next week!” she said. I laughed. I knew it. I guess it could be worse, I could have shown up a week late.