I need to be more spontaneous, I thought the other day.
I was flipping through some of my magazines and my eyes rested on an article where a bunch of men discussed different ways their women excited them.
I zeroed in on this one:
That’s easy enough. I could do that. Some of the other things that men were saying was that they loved when their women made a big fancy meal.
That is not going to happen in this house.
I once followed this complicated chicken cordon bleu recipe because it’s one of Tom’s favorite meals and I nearly collapsed in tears by the end of it all. Plus, I nearly burned my arm.
Another man said that he loved when he and his woman tried out complicated sexual positions. I don’t bend like that no matter how hard Tom tries to make it so. I once shrieked at him, “I’m not a contortionist! If you want one of those, stalk a Cirque Du Soliel show!”
So yes. I figured that it would be best for me to just leap into Tom’s arms. Unexpectedly. He’s a pretty strong man so I thought this wouldn’t be a problem.
I was wrong.
First of all, when I started charging at him as he was coming out of the bedroom I ended up freaking him out. His eyes got all big when he saw me racing for his chest. I think he flash backed to high school when he played football and had to prevent tackles because he suddenly started crouching down with his arms out.
“Stand up straight!” I ordered and then pummeled into him. I tried to wrap my arms around his waist but it wasn’t working because Tom immediately backed up and we fell onto the bed. This would have been romantic but my hair was down because I wanted to resemble a virgin maiden, you know? My hair went right into Tom’s mouth and that prevented him from shouting.
He eventually pushed me off and leaped to his feet. He did not look like he was turned on. In fact, it looked like he was....mad?
“What the HELL was that?” he boomed, picking a strand of hair from his tongue.
“I was being romantic!” I replied, struggling to get my hair out of my face.
“How is attacking me romantic?” he demanded. “You know I have a bad back! Have you lost your mind?”
What? But it was supposed to be ROMANTIC! He was supposed to CATCH ME and twirl me around and we were supposed to laugh as though we didn’t have a care in the world.
“Dave Hepburn says that it’s romantic,” I pointed out, naming the guy who had penned the suggestion.
Tom tossed his hands in the air. “WHO IS DAVE HEPBURN?” His face had turned bright red and he reminded me of gigantic tomato.
I jumped off the bed and marched downstairs. “I’ll show you!”
“Is there a man hidden in our house?” Tom yelled.
Yup. I keep a spare in the cupboards.
“No, you moron! Dave Hepburn is the guy who suggested THIS!” I grabbed the article from the counter and shoved it in Tom’s face.
“I bet Dave Hepburn is like nineteen or something. He’s young enough to be PREPARED for a grown woman charging at him...” Tom said. But then he saw that Dave Hepburn was 32 and swallowed hard. “Well. This explains it. He lives in the Bahamas. Everyone is happy in the Bahamas which means they can expect the unexpected easier.”
Uh huh. I think he was just coming up with excuses because he was embarrassed that he couldn’t catch me.
Or, ohmiGod, maybe he couldn’t catch me because I was too fat? I know I had been pigging out while in Texas but I didn’t think I was THAT heavy.
“It’s because I’m fat, isn’t it!” I wailed.
Tom immediately looked afraid. He knows that it’s serious business when a woman starts moaning about her weight. “Of course not,” he assured me. “You just surprised me. You can’t just come charging at a man like that. You’re lucky I didn’t flip you over my head from shock.”
I puffed my lower lip out. “But Dave Hepburn said...”
“Dave Hepburn probably relaxes on beaches all day,” Tom cut in. Then he gazed down at the article again. “Well hey. Here’s one we can try. This guy says that he likes it when he and his girl try out complicated sexual positions...”
Nevermind. I tried. I think I give up.