“Terms of endearment”

A light slap on the bum as I passed the Missus darned near brought a legal action against me last week. It was nearing suppertime, and the delicate aroma of sausage egg and chips lay heavy on the balmy evening breeze.

“Nearly ready Love?” I remarked, giving her a gently wallop, “I’m starving.”

Believe it or not, she downed tools! Crash went the egg scoop as it hit the deck, “That’s sexual harassment,” she exclaimed angrily, “I’m on strike.”

Naturally, I was flabbergasted. “You don’t mean it, wives don’t go on strike.”

“This one does Mister, you made a physical attack on my person, followed by an indecent suggestion.”

“Indecent suggestion?”

“That’s right, you mentioned love….and here in the kitchen would be highly improper don’t you think?”

I thought back a few decades, “Oh what stories that enamelled top kitchen table could tell, not to mention the kitchen sink, the broom cupboard and the ironing board that broke under pressure.”

“But Lovey…when we were first married…”

“Well, we aint first married, and don’t Lovey me, I know what you’re after my lad…and you ain’t getting it!”

I blamed the situation on the media. Everywhere we go, we read or hear about these new gender laws that are aimed at protecting our women.

Fact is, they are destined to modify life for every male in South Africa.

We kissed and made up of course. Since the kitchen happens to be a workplace, we did it in the bedroom, and in the correct environment.

The following day I decided to mind my P`s and Q`s when it came to addressing the fair sex.

I didn’t get half an hour through my day when I dropped my first bombshell. Chatting up a pretty young housewife at the Municipal offices,

I left, throwing her my usual farewell, “Bye Love, nice to have met you.” Then I froze, realising that I had committed a near cardinal sin.

Being the person I am, I mentioned the fact that I had erred. She laughed, “Please don’t apologise, I liked it.”

Heavens what are things coming to? When it comes to the fair sex, is there a man alive who can suppress that oh so natural urge to score a point?