My God, I can’t believe I let her do this to me again. Last time was bad enough for Christ’s sake, what with the makeup and underwear, but this… Jesus, I gave in to her completely this time, didn’t I? I mean, it’s one thing to agree to one of those Brazilian wax jobs, but did I really sit for four hours in that salon chair and let her hairdresser have her way with me? And the clothes following her around to all those exclusive shops, trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes, and all that lingerie right in front of those salesgirls? God, I’ve never been so humiliated! Can I really be so pussy-whipped? And now…now she wants to take me out to dinner like this? Maybe I’d better grow a pair of balls and quick, too, before she has my real ones removed.
Okay, that’s it, I’ve made up my mind: as soon as we get home tonight, I’m putting my foot down—provided, of course, I don’t break an ankle dancing back wards in these heels.