When I was in college my three roommates and I went to the grocery store to buy beer. While we were there we picked up a few other essentials — an 8-pack of paper towels, and for one of my roommates who had been seeing this cute brunette girl relatively regularly, a few bottles of KY Jelly (which he swears by but I’ve never tried).
Quickly this trifecta of goods called into question the sexual orientations of the four of us by both the checker who called us out, and the several dozen pair of disapproving eyes waiting in line behind us. While we had no intention of getting one another drunk, lubing up, fucking each other and then cleaning up the sticky mess with our abundance of paper towels, this is how we were perceived.
The point I’m trying to make is, after viewing your wife’s Amazon.com shopping cart, maybe she isn’t going to dice your ass up in the middle of the night and cuisinart your penis into Betty Crocker’s famous carrot souffle, but it sure as hell looks like it.