Legends of the Fall was on the night before last when I went to bed. It's a classic portrayal of a family of men out west at the turn of the last century, as the wide-open "wild west" days were coming to their close, and focuses on three brothers all beguiled by the same woman in turn.
I watched for a moment, and Tristan (played by Brad Pitt) was asking his younger brother whether the younger man and his sweetheart intended to "wait for marriage."
Tristan: "You're not going to f*** her?" Sam: "NO! Of course not! I plan to . . . to be with her." Tristan: "Huh. I recommend f***ing."
I turned to my wife, who was lying on her side but clearly still awake, and said in her ear, "You heard the man. I concur with his recommendation." "You recommend f***ing?" she asked. "I do. I think it's for the best." "Best for who, exactly?" she replied. "Well, that depends on when you ask," I told her. "If you ask two minutes before we start, it's what's best for me and mostly just annoying to you. But if you ask two minutes after we start, you would be the one who wouldn't stop if the house were on fire, and you know it. Any more questions?"
I didn't really expect that to work, but I felt maybe it was time to remind her that it's not a matter of me begging her for a favor. I was wrong. It worked beautifully.
