Posts Tagged ‘husband’


Cinderella Man

glass bootMany of us know this guy. By day, he’s the charmingly witty guy at work who’s constantly regaling us with entertaining stories about his life adventures – where he’s been, where he’s going, who he knows, who he’d like to meet. He’s the Prince of the Ball.

He’s the fella chasing 50 and rainbows, reminiscing on the good ol’ days. He’s by himself so much that you can only imagine that he’s unattached. Or, was it because, as he says, his situation is complicated. Of course, it could just be the inconspicuous absence of a band on his left hand, or the impassioned tale that he’s separated but living in the same house (and likely the same bed)…for the kids, of course.

But, once the clock strikes…gone is the Prince of the Ball. Cinderella Man appears. I call him the single, married man. Do you know him? Or, does the glass shoe fit?


Sexy Amnesia

love questionI was watching a talk show earlier today and an interesting question on relationships came up. Would you prefer a relationship that was emotionally blah with amazing sex, or emotionally amazing with blah sex?

For me, this was a complicated question with no easy answer.

I mean, seriously, I can’t think of anything more stimulating than someone who listens and is actually interested in what I’m saying. Someone who recognizes that I, too, am out here making the bacon so willingly shares in all of the household responsibilities. Someone who understands that I may not come to bed looking like an airbrushed beauty but recognizes that this woman knows how to handle her business.  Someone who treats me like a true friend not just the girlfriend or wife.  Someone who knows how to carry himself like a man but isn’t afraid of the fact that I am a strong woman.

To me, that is emotionally erotic, and I would take that any day over many things. But since this is just my dream, a good dose of mind-blowing, freak nasty, push-your-wig-back-kinda-sex can be just what the doctor ordered to give me a good case of amnesia, have me sucking my thumb, and mumbling ““oooooooooh , I love me some him…what was the question again?”


Dear Santa:


Dear Santa,

It’s been a long time since I wrote you a letter, but if you really exist I could use your help. I know you specialize in toys, so what I’m going to ask you for may really sound strange. It’s just that I’m a little desperate right now, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. However, before I tell you what I want under my Christmas tree, let me give you a little background so you’ll understand my request.

First, let me share that this is my favorite time of the year! I love all of the hustle and bustle, the good eats, and the time spent with family and friends. I just love it! The fun really starts at Thanksgiving but truly kicks into high gear the day after. No, not because of Black Friday sales….it has much more to do with the sounds of Christmas.

It’s the magic of Boys to Men harmonizing Let it Snow; little Michael, Jermaine, Tito and them sweetly singing Give Love on Christmas Day; and the soothing baritone of “Merry Christmas, from The Temptations” that officially sets it off for me.

Of course, we have to toss in the traditional Christmas songs and movies like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Even though I’ve watched these movies hundreds of times, they never get old and I never get tired of singing along with Frosty or the “misfit toys.” Seems like this time of year puts everyone in a good mood. Heck, even my husband is feeling the holiday cheer. Earlier today, I couldn’t hep but smile when I heard him humming the tune to The 12 Days of Christmas. I was singing and swaying along to his tune until I heard an unfamiliar – and unusually long – note that caused me to pause. It went a little something like this:

On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad.

On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad.

On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad.

[This went on painfully for “7 days,” until he got to the 5th day of Christmas and sang out…]

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad, and licking of the baaaaaaaaaaalls.

I’m at a complete loss for words. My husband is a bonafide nutcase.

So, Santa, please, please, please… bring me a XL straight-jacket and a wooden club for Christmas. My husband needs a good dose of get right.

Thanking you in advance,



Wrong Turn Down Memory Lane

wrong wayRecently I found myself strolling down memory lane with rose-colored lenses on. I was thinking back on the choices and decisions I’d made in the past and wondering what my life would have been like had I made different choices. It was in this mental space that I recreated what I thought my life would look like and began kicking myself over how young and stupid I was way back then. However, the funny thing about these strolls is that sooner or later you hit a pothole that slams you back into reality and brings clarity to why you got off of this ill-fated lane in the first place.

Our yesterdays make us who we are today. Every mistake, every hurt, every failure, and every success are threaded into the very fabric of our person. It’s okay to reflect back on these experiences – heck, do like I do – laugh about it or cry it out. Just don’t fool yourself into believing that the scenery along memory lane was other than what you remember; instead, promise yourself that these strolls are simply brief detours that don’t distract you from the road ahead…and keep it moving.


Bedtime Wars

Never go to bed angry.Couple sitting up in bed, both looking away   Original Filename: couple.jpg

When I was younger, I would hold on to these words of advice as if they were the answer to my happily ever after. Too often, I would push aside my wounded emotions and crawl under the covers with a smile on my face and tears in my heart. While I was nurturing peace in my relationship, I was waging war in my spirit. By pushing aside my feelings for the sake of peace and a “good night’s sleep,” I was allowing my own feelings to be devalued.

As I’ve seasoned in life, I’ve learned that I also have to be true to me. The key to a happy marriage doesn’t start and stop at the bedroom door, so why pretend as if the answer lies somewhere between the tangled sheets? Besides I have yet to learn how to sleep peacefully after the one I vowed to love, honor, and cherish just threw a verbal barb that cut me down to the white meat.

Instead I build a fortress of pillows down the middle of the bed, put on my flannel armor, and lull myself to sleep with episodes of Snapped and pray that I don’t do just that. So, if this means that I go to bed angry…so be it.


Channeling ESP-N

espI always wished that I had a supernatural awareness, the power to see without seeing, hear without hearing, or feel without feeling. ESP. I didn’t want this gift to exploit others in a Psychic Network type manner; rather, I just wanted that enlightenment that would guide me towards peace, channel my inner chi, and, if I got lucky, provide insight into the male psyche.

Well, needless to say, my extrasensory perception never materialized, as I find myself having to woooo-saaaaaah on a regular basis to keep my sanity intact. However, I did find that the key to the male mind didn’t lie in ESP, rather it existed in channeling ESP-N.

With ESP-N, I could dodge scattered toys like an offensive player breaking through defensive lines on the football field.

With ESP-N, the dexterity of my hands in preparing dinner would solicit the oohs and aahs worthy of a basketball all-star performance.

With ESP-N, I could tee my husband off of the LazyBoy like a tiger at the masters.

With ESP-N, my recap of the day’s events would prompt him to push rewind again and again, reveling in how I stretched a nickel into fifteen cents.

With ESP-N, we could laughingly remember how we used to play back when he was an athlete.

If only I had the gift of ESP-N, I could see how to play this game called love.


Bourbon Baby

During the holidays, my husband received a box of liquor-infused chocolates. Cognac, Jack Daniels, Bourbon, you name it. Anyway, I’d noticed that he stashed the box of goodies in the refrigerator to chill for whenever he needed a sweet nip. When I saw this, I removed the box, noted that the count was low, and headed upstairs to chat with him about why it might not be wise to leave this in the fridge. His thoughts, of course, were that he liked his chocolate (and liquor) chilled. On the other hand, I was thinking more about the two teenagers we have in the house. Of course, I believe that we are raising them to be responsible young people and would hope that they would not touch what doesn’t belong to them…but momma didn’t raise no fool either. 


A Dose of Selfishness

Most of us attach negative thoughts to the word “selfish.” I’ve done it myself over the years. If a person thought about themselves first and foremost, I would call them selfish. These folks always manage to bring the focus back on them. Despite any concern you may wish to discuss, he or she always jumps in with a dose of themselves. Selfish.

I used to joke with my husband about his selfish ways when we first met. Whenever he started singing his version of Johnny Gill’s “My, My, My”, I would simply place my index finger in the center of the top of my head and twirl around. This was my demonstration to him that he was behaving as if the world revolved around him. It used to drive me insane. There I was running around like ”the sky is falling, the sky is falling,” and he would be focused on himself, smiling, and happy.


Responsibility Ain’t Sexy

Earlier today I ran across a picture of my husband and I when we’d first started dating. Smiles lit our faces. Eyes sparkled with the promise of new love. Years later, those same eyes can barely stay awake long enough most days to share an intimate conversation. It’s not that we love each other any less. No, in fact, I’d say we love each other more than we did that day because now we understand the impact of “us” in this grand universe.

It’s just that we wake each morning before dawn to hustle kids out the door for school before we climb onto the hamster wheel of life to run around…and around…and around again in the same daily routine.

I shake my head when I hear tales about married men and women who get caught up fantasizing about someone other than their spouse. It could be that woman on the job who hangs onto his every word or the old acquaintance who compliments her on how beautiful she still is. That other person appears to have the Midas touch and says just the right thing to brush off the dregs of monotony. But, that’s because he/she is not down in the trenches with you on a daily basis, and things are never glamorous in the trenches. As a matter of fact, it can get downright dirty when you’re laboring through hard decisions and heartache.

Simple truth: responsibility just ain’t sexy.

But, just for a brief moment I found myself humming that old tune by Minnie Ripperton – I stumbled on this photograph, it kinda made me laugh. It took me way back, back down memory lane – and it was so nice to remember the days when all we had to share were our thoughts, dreams, and beds.


No More 50-Yard Lovin’

This post is intended for the menfolk; so fellas, I’m going to break this matter down into language that you might better understand. Sports.

In the game of football, each team’s objective is to move the ball all the way down the field. When done successfully, the team scores points. Game won. Easy, right? Not necessarily.

The game of football involves strategy and teamwork that must occur not only on the field but off the field as well.

In the locker room, players psyche each other up about the pending game and give the Do-it-for-Brian-Piccolo/Brian’s Song locker room speech that has the players motivated and hyped to perform their very best on the field.

Well, the same thing applies in the game of lovemaking.

You wouldn’t start and stop the game on the 50-yard line, would you? So, why do you think that the game starts and stops in the bedroom? This game begins in the teasing text messages and calls that are exchanged throughout the day. It moves down the field in the kitchen when you brush up against one another while making dinner. It’s played out with each passing glance and successful play of words.

But, this game, too, can be set back with unnecessary personal fouls like illegal contact (excessive grabbing), unsportsmanlike conduct (taunting), unnecessary roughness, or hands (or balls) to the face.

All I’m suggesting, fellas, is that you play the game of lovemaking like you couch coach the game of football every week. Hype your woman up in her mental locker room. Make passes throughout the game. Huddle (or cuddle) up to talk about what you plan to do. And, then sit back and watch how easily the ball(s) can move down the field.

And, after all of that is done, if you want to go and stand with arms wide open in the middle of the field T. Owens style, then knock yourself out.

Until then – Hut! Hut!