What I got to say to Shellie, that seemed too long to politely post in the comments section of her blog:

Dear Shellie, 

As you well know, I'm no lurker, but I wanted to tell you that my husband and I were on a date last night at El Charro, a delicious restaraunt mexicano, after the temple, and I was trying to affair-proof my marriage, like Oprah and her cute Jewish doctor friend told me (and all the other ladies of America) to do last week, and not talk about kids or money or work on our date. 

Jake wasn't doing so well at not talking about work. He took me on a tour of properties he manages around the temple both before and after dinner. Oh look, Kelly! Griselda in number 5 just bought that old Buick from Manuel in number 2. It's a real beaute, isn't it? Or Hey! See that guy right there? He owes me two months rent. When I complained about the parade of homes, he mumbled something about writing off the gas. 

So I was kinda of out of ideas (we had already discussed whether or not Oprah was already brainwashing me, since I started Tivoing her two weeks ago. Our consensus was: yes, it does seems so), so then I started telling him about your NCMO/DTR post and we had to pull it up on his iphone, and we laughed and laughed and reminisced about Provo, which was very romantic, of course. So much more than Buicks. But then my chimichanga came, so I had to eat it. I was very hungry, you see. 

After 12 years of marriage, food trumps NCMO. Even talk of NCMO. Plus, you can't really NCMO with your husband. Is only CMO, which is surely better, anyhow. The 'N' can't be the most important part of the acronym, right?

DTRs are real yawners, as well. What do you do, re-read your marriage license?

Anyhow, I didn't really have any stories to share, because no one ever wanted to NCMO with me, except one very odd guy who I met in Sacrament meeting one Sunday, where he invited me to a fireside that night. Only, it turned out to be a Baptist fireside, and then afterward he asked if I wanted to climb into the back seat of my parents' Q45. I know. So tempting, but I turned him down. So I told Jake that story, even though he'd already heard it a few times before (he would probly say, 300 times. I have a tendancy to re-tell the same stories over and over, in manner of brain trauma recovery patient). Jake didn't seem to have anything to say about NCMOs, either. Was pretty tight-lipped on the subject (ha-ha!), actually.

Anyhow, thanks so much to you, Shellie, for your funny blog, which provided us with some delightful date night hijinks-slash-antics. 

(And also some thanks should go to Oprah, I guess.)

(And to her cute Jewish doctor friend, as well, who probly dreams that one day, he'll get his own show, like Dr. Phil. Only, if he does get his own show, he should watch out it doesn't degrade into a Montel-like freak show, like Phil's has.)  

P.S. Shellie, is not your fault you barked at that lady at Church. There is a line between the cyber and real worlds that needs to be crossed delicately, else the shock might cause someone to yell and behave in crazy snake/little bunny rabbit style way.

Your faithful reader,

Beeswax