No Honey, We Can't Move to Guadalajara

As much as she loves the guy, Calico’s husband does make her scratch her head sometimes — and raise her eyebrows almost off her head at others. Out of nowhere, he’ll suddenly become briefly obsessed with some item he finds on the internet, whether it’s a list of the best pizza places in the country (“We should try to hit every one of these!”), an obscure and dubious report from some off-brand “medical information” site (“See? I told you nachos are a category of Super Food!”) or a random news item about something happening in a foreign country.

It’s the last of those which has captured her husband’s imagination this week — a news article which says the city of Guadalajara, Mexico has changed its laws such that the police can’t arrest people for having sex in public, unless there’s a complaint from a third party.

What’s odd about this is Calico’s husband doesn’t even like having sex in public, so why the sudden fascination and excitement? Is it just a yearning for greater liberty, even if this specific liberty is one he’d never put to use? Is it merely nostalgia for all the time he spent in Mexico as a kid? Find out in Calico’s latest post, “No Honey, We Can’t Move to Guadalajara.“

by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com Porn For Women and Couples

Like a lot of men who never quite grew out of their youthful exuberance, my husband has a tendency to fixate on random ideas and notions which suddenly capture his fancy.

Whether it’s an aging NFL placekicker nailing a very long field goal (“Hey – he’s not much younger than I am; maybe I could still make it as a kicker!”) or a long list of exotic vacation destinations in which he’s never been interested previously but now wants to visit, the man truly does remind me of a dog chasing the red dot of a laser-pointer at times.

What makes his latest fancy so odd is it involves something he doesn’t even like doing: Having sex in public.

If “Logic Leap” Were An Olympic Event, I’d Be Married To A Gold Medalist

“Hey Cal, listen to this!” he exclaimed, fairly tumbling into the living room, tablet in hand.

“The authorities of the city of Guadalajara, considered to be one of the most conservative cities in Mexico, approved a law that allows sexual relations in public view, unless there’s a public complaint.”

Uh, OK dear. Tell me more… I guess?

“With the legal reforms, the police will no longer have the authority to sanction public sex acts, so long as there isn’t a complaint from a third party,” he continued, reading from what I would later learn was the website of an NBC affiliate in Chicago.

Before I could even point out that having sex in public is closer to being one of his phobias than one of his kinks, my husband was already well down the yellow brick road to total absurdity.

“Just think, if Guadalajara is backing off on this, what else must they be lightening up on?” he asked, staring south out the living room window towards the distant border with Mexico. “I’ll bet you can get away with all sorts of shit down there now, just like when I was kid!”

Ah, now I get it. This isn’t about some sudden desire to fuck in public – it’s about nostalgia for his Wild Child days of the late 1980s.

Why, Yes – You HAVE Told Me That Story Before. And That One, And….

My husband’s enthusiasm for the newly declared policy regarding public sex in Guadalajara quickly gave way to a recounting of the dumbest things he did while on drunken trips south of the border in his misspent youth.

Each of the stories began with some version of the (entirely rhetorical, evidently) question “Have I ever told you about the time….”

The answer, of course, was a uniform YES, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, YES I’ve heard that story before. Several times. Possibly even several times this week.

“… when all my friends ran from the federales who pulled up on us in their squad car, but I just stood there, and one of the cops turned out to be my old friend Carlos, who I practically grew up with down there, and soon we were smoking a joint together and reminiscing about the time we accidentally set fire to his father’s boat…”

Yes, dear, I remember. You told me that story on our second date – 21 years ago – and you’ve been retelling it, in curiously shifting detail, at least four times a year ever since.

I’ll admit, the first time he told me the story, I did laugh quite hard. I’ll also admit, if I roll my eyes any harder the next time he tells it, they may well fall out of their sockets and roll beneath our couch.

Finally! A Mexico Story I Hadn’t Heard Before. What A Relie… Wait A Minute.

About 20 minutes into this trip down Augmented Memory Lane, my husband finally came across a story I’d never heard before – and which he instantly wished he’d left that way.

“You remember Olivia, right, the woman I introduced to you that one night at Safeway a few months back?” he asked, without pausing after finishing the story of the time his friend Jack got arrested for throwing an empty tequila bottle out the window of the car, and his whole group of friends had to pool their money together to post Jack’s bail.

I did remember Olivia, because she was – without a doubt – the most insanely physically-attractive woman I’ve ever seen in my life. In fact, Olivia was so freaking hot, I assumed their relationship back in the day had to have been entirely Platonic. Either that, or she was the proverbial Ugly Duckling back then and I was meeting the Swan she’d grown up to be.

Either way, there’s no way my husband ever hooked up with her. No. Way.

“When we first started dating, we had sex on the beach in Bahia la Cholla and almost got run over by some asshole riding a dirt bike,” he exclaimed giddily.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, I could see the regret crawl across his face like a giant alligator in some cheap old sci-fi flick.

“You didn’t mention you’d dated Olivia,” I said, involuntarily folding my arms across my chest.

Dead silence.

“So, am I to understand reading that article about Guadalajara took you back to fucking your old girlfriend on the beach?” I asked, raising an eyebrow so far it threatened to displace my pony tail. “Did that same event come to mind when we ran into her in the produce section?”

“No, no, no,” he said waving his hands around frantically. “Well… OK, maybe a little.”

On a related note, does anyone happen to know if it’s a crime in Guadalajara to make your husband sleep outside in the rain? Asking for a friend.