My weekend was an oxymoron. Eventful, yet uneventful. Saturday morning simmered into night and the big game. Alabama lost. That poor kicker is probably tying his own noose as we speak. I made a conscious decision to be as lazy as possible Saturday morning. I called my shot early. Hubby had gone to work and it was so cool in the house, I snuggled back into bed. I even called his cell to advise him of my laziness and warn him that he was going to be sorely disappointed in my lack of effort in housework. I even put off going to the grocery store. Mini-me and I snuggled for a while after she woke up. Pretty mediocre morning. GC was only in town for a day or so and I did get to see him. He’s gone again…not sure when his work will let him return. So I was excited to see him so unexpectedly but sad he had to leave so soon. He hadn’t announced his return like he normally would have. And no amount of cyber stalking gave me a clue either. Our visit was short…yes. I figured, honestly I wouldn’t get to talk to him or see him for at least two or three weeks. So, Saturday morning, when my phone started singing to me with his distinctive ring tone, I literally almost wet myself. For whatever reason, at that moment, I was on his mind. The text was simple enough, “What are you doing right now?” My response, “Laying in bed with Mini-me.” His reply? “What will you be doing the next time you see me?” My response, “Hopefully shaking and moaning.”
I don’t know why I can be dirty with him and not with Hubby. It’s weird. Hubby would be happy to get dirty texts from me. It’s just different. GC and I started our relationship on the basis of nasty-sweaty hardcore sex. There was no real courtship or purpose except for mutual pleasure. Hubby and I started our relationship with a courtship. We had a purpose–to be each others’ companion. Even when I try to be dirty with Hubby, I can’t. I feel stupid or childish.
For whatever reason, that text message conversation changed the rest of my day. I got up, fixed Mini-me’s breakfast, folded some clothes, and prepared to watch the Alabama/LSU game (that turned out to be a huge disappointment). Had great tipsy sex with Hubby and snuggled in for the night. Sunday morning, I woke up to a blinking phone again. It was GC. This time it said, “Stop making me think about you.” I didn’t respond.
But his goal was accomplished. I know he only sends me texts like that to insure he stays in my head or pants as it were. And, he was there. Firmly planted. All 6’6″ of chocolate yummy-ness. When will November be over?
Taken from Guns N Roses’ November Rain:
Don’t ya think that you need somebody?
Don’t ya think that you need someone?
Everybody needs somebody
You’re not the only one, you’re not the only one
That hits freakishly close to home.
Diary of a Dirty Domestic Goddess 