Hot off the presses, David "Gabe" Watson of Alabama surrendered to Australian authorities yesterday.  He's the bubble wrap salesman whose novice diver wife died under mysterious circumstances on their honeymoon five years ago, stories The Naughty Bride featured here and here.  He's indicted for murder to determine whether or not he turned his bride's tank off and held her under.  Here is a photo of her submerged and incapacitated while an unwitting other diver (not her husband), poses for a photograph.  

Now remarried to a woman who bears a stirking resemblance to the first Mrs. Watson, Gabe suddenly turned himself in yesterday, according to the Courier Mail.  The second Mrs. Watson did not accompany him to Australia, not even for a quick post-honeymoon trip of their own, maybe to see his favorite reefs, before surrendering to authorities.  The Naughty Bride has to ask, what do you want to bet THEIR honeymoon is over?  Smooches all 'round, people.  The trial and media circus could get so ugly, it'll be as addictive as popping bubble wrap.  Get the popcorn.  

Dinah Mulock Craik, a novelist married to a marvelously successful publisher, once wrote in A Life for A Life:

But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely.  Oh, the comfort -- the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person -- having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keepinq and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away!

The Naughty Bride has jury duty today.  So please enjoy the quote, apply it to your naughty business, sift the chaff outta your love's outpourings, save the nutritious stuff -- and wipe that naughty grin offa your face.  Okay, don't.  See?  

You can't help it.  You smiled!

(I gotcha again.)  Love.

The question of infidelity, especially infidelity among politicos, is crack for pundits.  So no surprise that Elizabeth Edwards' book tour appearance on Oprah continues to fodder mediahounds both inside and outside the Beltway.  After all, that's what a book tour is supposed to do.  Feed the beast.  Tittilate.  Gossip.  

But, actually learn something, take away a lesson from popular media?  Never.  

Here at The Naughty Bride HQ, we're small enough to use the news and wise up.  We have no way of knowing what John Edwards' unmet needs were (or remain) in that marriage.  We have no knowledge of what threw the Edwards' marital system off kilter.  All we know is that it took four little words to spin John right out of it.  Delivered by Rielle Hunter, who'd awaited him outside a restaurant to say them, they rocked him back on his heels.  

Elizabeth Edwards cannot deliver these four words to save her life (click here for the video clip via Salon.com).  Do you suspect that there's a little withheld eroticism in this woman's life?  Yeah, so do we.  She's articulate, she's brilliant, she's a great mother, a great political wife, and she's good to animals.  What she isn't -- is naughty.  (Or, wasn't until recently.)  

So let's all take a moment to practice delivering this line.  Even if you're a naturally naughty bride, we humbly suggest everyone get in front of a mirror and repeat them until the weirdness, the embarrassment and the spooky tinfoil heat in the pit of the chest disappears, because it's no easier to own your desire than it is to own the rest of your self.  

So pick an eye to focus on.  Then look straight into it and say: 

You.

Are. 

So.

HOT.

Our next-to-last blog entry called a naughty smile your ticket to ride on a mid-marriage shift into intimate overdrive.  This is true, but useless.  Why?  Because it's next to impossible to find your naughty smile once a marriage (or any relationship) slips into gridlock.

When the kids are noisy and your beloved has just left the toilet seat open and visible at the top of the stairs for, like, the gazillionth time... or when your darlin' has just broken a date to finish something less important at work, what you really want to do is grit your teeth and tell everyone to take a hike.  Or hit the road yourself.  But that (whether it's anger or abandonment) doesn't get you where you want to go.  If you want to fly First Class, you need that ticket to ride. But how do you buy it when your emotional resources are below the poverty line? 

"Hang On to Your Ego" sang the Beach Boys, and that Brian Wilson-penned tune hits the nincompoop on the head and puts the brass in pocket, giving you the emotional currency you need to fill up the Piggy Bank Within.  Cuz when your ego's in check, you can ask yourself what you really want.  Is it to alienate your mate?  Abandon him?  No. You want to motivate him.  You want him to come home from work, or to wake you up when he gets back.  So, shut your mouth and smile.  

Now, sometimes we can go from the outside in.  We can smile, and our inner world adjusts to a sunnier attitude.  If your dirty grin won't materialize, try asking yourself this question, "What would The Naughty Bride do?"  

She'd say:

"Darlin' I'm sorry."

and then

imagine

you

naked.