Like most men in America, the living room couch is my throne where I rule with ultimate authority. The television remote serves as the king’s scepter, which I wield to issue my royal decrees of the evening’s entertainment. Little talking and absolutely no interruptions are allowed when the emperor is on the throne with remote in hand. After feasting on thee Royal Banquet microwave meal, the king must have ample time to recover from important kingly duties like answering phones, filling out expense reports and creating Excel spreadsheets by zoning in front of the television. The penalty for interrupting is being thrown into the moat for a royal scrubbing then locked away in a tall tower for the evening.
The two princesses were asleep in their towers while the king and queen attempted to zone after an exhausting day. The night was shaping up to be similar to any other in the kingdom until crying erupted from one of the tall towers. Princess P was asking for some mead to quench her thirst and ye royal goldfish crackers to calm an upset stomach. With the caring queen tending to the needs of the princess, the king continued to flip through the channels aimlessly. Very few options were offered, as premium cable was one of the first expenses to be beheaded in cost cutting measures to balance the kingdom’s budget.
On one channel was Knight Rider. With David Hasselhoff being huge in Bavaria as well as this kingdom, excitement ensued until the king quickly realized the show was only a remake of the original from medieval times.
The flipping of channels continued until something on CBS caught the king’s eye: The Victorian Secret Fashion Show. Looking to see if the Queen was back in their chambers, the king continued to gaze upon the beautiful woman. The king was so enamored with what he saw that he didn’t realize how much time had passed. It wasn’t until he was smacked up aside his stately noggin by the furious queen that his attention was diverted. She was demanding an answer as to why the king thought it was appropriate to be watching this show. The king became perplexed as how to respond to the line of questioning. He decides his options are:
A. Say that he was looking to find the perfect lace corset as a gift for the queen for the upcoming holiday that celebrates the birth of thy Lord.
B. Shake the royal scepter to show that it is dead and declare the royal subjects at fault for forgetting to buy AA batteries at Kingdom Mart (K-Mart for short).
C. State that it has been many a fortnight since the queen had paid the king any attention
D. Deflect blame to the evil wizard who lives in the dark forest that cast a spell on his mind rendering the king useless in having any control over his thoughts.
E. Tell the queen not to get her chastity belt in a bunch and that you are only doing what any King would do. Comfort her by saying the queen has nothing to worry about. The king only looks at the banquet menu but never partakes in the festivities.
The royal blame game for why guys struggle with their eyes has been going on since the days of Sir Lancelot. The amount of marriages that truly end Happily Every After are shrinking because many men have refused to deal with the fire breathing dragon that wreaks havoc on their kingdom: the wandering eye. Instead of slaying the beast, most men enable the dragon to grow bigger and stronger by continuing to feed it. Men use anything in their arsenal to deflect, differ, excuse or justify their behavior. We also downplay how the intimacy in our relationships and marriage has been burnt to a crisp by the dragon.
Trust me this “king” has acted more like a foolish jester when it comes to placing the blame for my struggles on someone else’s shoulders. If I could, I’d stop these wandering eyes, but I’m just wired this way. It is beyond my control. Turn on the television, go the movies, look at the advertising in the magazines…. sex is everywhere. So, can you really blame me if I have sex on the brain? After all, it is just a quick look and no one else knows, so how can anyone get hurt? As long as we can justify it away and keep our struggles in the dark, we don’t have to admit there is a big, fat, fire-breathing dragon consuming our castle. So, you have a choice to make: are you going to reclaim your kingdom or eventually become just another crispy appetizer for one fat dragon?