Loaner Husbands

Now that’s a reality show people would watch. I haven’t seen an episode, or watched the movie, or read the Handmaid’s Tale, but I could write a script about Loaner Husbands. 

I’ve lived alone now for six months. Going on seven. I hate it. Absolutely hate it. I hate coming home to an empty apartment. I don’t have pets because I’m not home enough. It wouldn’t be fair to the pets. Plus I would worry nonstop (what if) my central air conditioner broke down. Not that I want to live with a boyfriend, just not come home to an empty apartment. 

With the exception of a few ghetto experiences, MOST Loaner Husbands are classy and amazing. They take you out, have long meaningful conversations over a bottle of wine or two, dinners together, a show, a movie, and on occasion truly, truly amazing sex. For whatever reason single guys don’t get it. Married men enjoy the company. Single men only enjoy themselves. 

Gender roles. I don’t care if you’re two men, two women, whatever, ONE OF YOU is going to do laundry more than the other person, I promise you. 

I lived with a married couple for three months. He was the stay at home (whatever, do nothing guy) and she worked nights as a doctor. She clogged their bathtub with her long curly hair every week, and between the two of them neither one could figure out that A) they needed a hair drain for the tub, B) where to get the hair drain, and C) where to get/and how to use Draino to unclog the tub. 

For the first two weeks I lived with them, I went to Target, bought draino and unclogged their tub twice. After the third time they complained about their tub clogged, we had a chat, and that’s when I learned they had no idea hair clogged the drain. Furthermore, that was just the tub. The husband broke the ice maker by jamming his glass repeatedly against the ice release valve when it ran out of ice. He thought the ice maker filled itself with water. All their previous roommates helped them unclog their bathtub. All the previous roommates filled the ice maker with water. They were domestically challenged everywhere. That couple completely stressed me out. After just those first two weeks living with them, I would have dumped them both if we were dating. It’s why they couldn’t keep roommates. That husband literally did nothing every day. I asked him once why he didn’t work, and he replied, “We only have one car.” That was his answer. So she worked. He stayed home and did absolutely nothing. HOW did he get her? Because no one wants to be alone. That’s how. 

The only housework I ever saw that husband perform without breaking something was laundry, although he religiously complained about having to empty the dryer lint trap. “Lint is so disgusting!” He loudly complained until I finally told him not to worry about it. I emptied the lint trap just to stop his nagging. 

I can’t live with couples... and that included my parents.

I hate the stupid fights couples have. Stupid. Meaningless. Irritating fights. My dad’s first wife was a screamer. I can’t be around women who scream or women who cry. Irritates me to no end. I can’t be around women who are jealous and insecure. Just put them all out of their misery already.

I don’t fight with people. I hate drama. I just leave. Move on. Forget about it. That’s the lure of Loaner Husbands. You never fight with them, and you get them for just the good times. The honeymoon never ends. You’re not a sister-wife because you’re not a wife, ever. Thank god.

Pilots are good times also. The good ones are constantly working. I live not far from McCarran International. The pilots who have layovers in Vegas (and back when I lived in LA) are always up for going out and having fun. 

I’d love to see a show about Loaner Husbands. Even a fake reality show. I would so watch that.