So THIS is why my husband wants to move to Canada!

by Coleen Singer at Sssh.com Porn For Women

Where my husband’s mood or intent is concerned, I’ve always considered myself an eagle-eyed reader. No matter how careful and circumspect he might be about revealing the true nature of his desires, I can usually tell when he’s giving me a story, as opposed to giving me a reason.

For instance, when he lobbied me to stay in Arizona several years ago at point when we both had job prospects in the same California city, he could talk all he wanted about comparative cost of living, overall quality of life and other such bullshit; the real story was he just didn’t want to deal with the hassle of packing up all our shit and carting it off down the I-10. (As it turned out, neither did I, so we stayed put.)

The tables have turned recently, as it’s now the hubby who wants to blow this scorching-hot pop stand, and I’m the one digging in her heels and stubbornly refusing to consider a move. The difference this time around is that I have hitherto been completely in the dark as to why he wants to pick up stakes all of a sudden – especially since he’s talking about moving to Toronto, which is easier said than done, to say the least.

On the face of it, his desire to move stems from a job offer. What’s fishy – very fishy – is that it’s a government job about which he refuses to tell me anything in detail.

At first, I figured he was just messing with me, possibly preying on the slightly of Phillip K. Dick-like bent of my brain, the result of which is a vague suspicion that everyone close to me is actually working to undermine me at the behest of the CIA – or possibly the massive, all-powerful international conglomerate known as Nestlé.

How else am I to explain a mysterious government job? Clearly, he’s aiming to become a spy – or maybe he’s already a spy, trying to return to Home Base, bringing with him his unwitting target, Coleen Singer, so she can be water-boarded and/or beaten with sacks of Canadian pennies until she gives up her mother’s top-secret spaghetti sauce recipe!

That’s what I thought until this morning, when it all became clear to me: My husband wants to move to Toronto so he can watch porn for a living.

Sound unlikely? Before you dismiss the notion, take a look at this stunning report about the Canadian government somehow turning a profit by watching porn.

According to the Toronto Star article linked above, the Ontario Film Review Board “routinely brings in a $1.8 million annual profit, a substantial amount of that from the pornography industry.”

Well, well, well; fancy that.

Armed with this hot-off-the-presses report, I confronted my husband this morning to see if the Canadian government job he’s so eager to pursue was a position with the OFRB. Under a withering fusillade of pointed questions, his responses gradually evolved from “Don’t be silly, Coleen” to “I can neither confirm nor deny these allegations, for perfectly legitimate reasons of national security.”

Suuuure, right: National Security. Where I come from, they call this “getting busted,” pal.

What upsets me isn’t the idea of my spouse making money watching porn (he watches plenty for free as it is, why would I mind him getting paid for it), it’s that he didn’t suggest I apply for the position instead, considering I’m clearly the more qualified applicant.

I suppose there’s still a small chance my lesser half really is a Canadian spy – in which case, I just handed him the perfect cover story on a silver platter. Somehow I doubt it though, because even the best Canadian actor couldn’t pretend to be so uniquely and comprehensively American Slob in his total inability to dress himself, dance, or refrain from overturning cars and setting them on fire when local sports teams win a championship game.

For the moment, I’m humoring my man, allowing him to believe he has pulled the wool over my eyes, but also stalling him on the idea of moving to Toronto. If he ever truly comes clean – be it as a would-be voyeur for hire or as the Canadian James Bond – I’ll happily fall in line and play the role of supportive spouse. 

In the meantime, I’m not going to touch any of the mystery buttons on the dashboard of his car – just in case. Honestly, the last thing I need right now is to accidentally leave an oil slick or tire spike-strip in our wake while pulling into the parking lot at Trader Joe’s….

About Coleen Singer:

Coleen Singer is a writer, photographer, film editor and all-around geeky gal at Sssh.com (@ssshforwomen), where she often waxes eloquent about Female Friendly Porn, sex, pleasure products, censorship, the literary and pandering evils of Fifty Shades of Grey and other topics not likely to be found on the Pulitzer Prize shortlist. She is also the editor and curator of EroticScribes.com. When she is not doing all of the above, Singer is an amateur stock-car racer and enjoys modifying vintage 1970s cars for the racetrack. Oh, she also likes porn.

Visit Coleen at Sssh.com for more kinky sex news and original movies for Women and Couples.