Congratulations Filbert Enthusiast!

There's a wide range of fetishes.  Some people like big freakishly big dicks, some people like having sex to Reggaeton, and some people like being covered in plastic and being submerged until they're on the brink of death, only to be pulled out of the water at the last minute and left on the pavement, panting, breathing, barely alive.  It's all good, as long as you're safe and responsible.

You, however, have a particularly nasty fetish.

You only like men named Filbert.

It's really, really tough to find men named Filbert nowadays.  It's been out of fashion to name one's child Filbert for like...a century.  But still, you try, using a combination of Google, Ancestry.com and a set of private detectives who work for you because you're a "dark dame with a shadowy past up to no good."

Well, today, you're going to realize something.

"Men can legally change their names," you'll tell your girlfriend.

"Yahuh," she'll say, not really paying attention to you.

"So I could just find a nice guy, and then fuck him until he changes his name to Filbert."

"Ahguezz," she'll reply.

"Jackpot," you'll say, making the universal gesture that indicates 'jackpot' status with your arm.  No more fucking dudes with erectile dysfunction named Filbert for you!  Which, by the way, is a thing.  Every dude named Filbert having erectile dysfunction, I mean.

Congratulations Filbert Enthusiast!

Congratulations on Your Stealthy Retreat!

The lines are drawn. Weapons have been assigned. Rules have been established and summarily thrown out. It’s time for you and your wife to settle things once and for all.

That crazy bitch thinks Enterprise was a good Star Trek show, and you can’t stand to hear her talk about how handsome Scott Bakula is. If she really loves that washed up fuck so much she can have him over your dead body.

And your wife can’t understand what you see in the classic Star Trek episodes. The acting, writing, and cinematography is terrible and some of the props were just taken from people’s kitchens! Great television this does not make.

The two of you will have decided that violence is the best possible way to solve this problem (you’re both cutting edge professional therapists, which is why you have ideas like this and fight with each other over Star Trek trivia) and that the best place for this violence is your home. We don’t pretend to understand your marriage, but apparently these techniques have worked for the last twelve years.

Tonight you’re going to try a new strategy. Well, new to you. Your wife’s been using it in bed for years. ZING! Anyhow, you’re going to put a dummy in your favorite hiding spot and get the fuck out of the house.

Your wife will be none the wiser, and she’ll proceed to beat the living shit out of the dummy, believing all the while that it is simply your unconscious body. Meanwhile you’ll go over to the apartment owned by your mistress, who really gets you, and watch Deep Space Nine DVDs while you eat thai food together.

It’ll actually be a pretty fun Friday night, and way more enjoyable than what you and your wife had planned. So congratulations on your stealthy retreat. We can really see both sides of this argument, by the way.