My husband just confessed that he makes me mad on purpose. He said he likes it when I get all feisty. He thinks it makes for some mean make-up sex. There’s only one problem with his confession…
When he pisses me off, there’s no way in hell I’m headed to bed to rip off my clothes! This is not a B-rated movie where there lovers get into a heated quarrel that leads to a mad-passionate-make-out session.
I’m not saying he has to bring wine and roses every time he wants to get lucky, but shutting his mouth about how much laundry is left to do might be a good idea. Putting me on the defense leads to only one thing– Bitch-mode!
Maybe I should just greet him in Bitch-mode from now on so he won’t feel the need to egg me towards it. He could walk in the door, I could call him a jack-ass, and we could straight-up get naked on the living room floor…
So the hubby has always had a girl following. He’s cute, he’s funny, he’s hyper, he’s outgoing. The girls love him. They Facebook him. They text him, They call him. They need their cars fixed and their kids chased and I think truly they just want to laugh, and he’s a big goober, so he makes them laugh. I am not bothered by that. My years of being the jealous type ended long ago. Hell, I’m the one with an arsenal of boy toys- the Cable Guy, the Pawn Star, the Coach, the Boyfriend, the Professor… so what kind of hypocrite would I be if I had a cow every time he said “hey sexy lady”?
I was never a fan of the iPhone. From the moment iPod’s emerged I though Apple added and i and overcharged for their stuff, but I just found a reason to love the iPhone. I’ve confessed before that sometimes in the middle of the night I hide in the bathroom and play Ruzzle on my hubby’s iPhone. I have been so depressed and overwhelmed by my life that sleep rarely comes to me. My brain won’t shut down because it’s too busy to making lists of the things I need to get done, the bills I need to get paid, the conversations I need to have but avoid… I could go on, but long-story-short for months I would stare at that stupid little screen until the light made my eyes tired enough to finally close them. The one night I tip-toed to the bathroom only to find Ruzzle had been deleted.
It didn’t rock my world or anything, it’s just a stupid game I used to count sheep. I figured it must have drove him crazy with notifications or something so I never said a word about it and I never turned on his iPhone in the night again. The one night my blood sugar dropped to 53 in the middle of the night. I woke up dizzy and woozy. I am new at this whole “diabetic” bullshit but I knew enough to quickly check my sugar level. After spending the summer in the 300 range, I didn’t know what to think about 53, so I grabbed the iPhone to Google some answers. After reading a few pages that suggested I was in trouble, I crawled to the kitchen and drank the very soda I have avoided for four months now, and finally started to feel normal again, but the scare kept me from falling back asleep so I started to play with the phone, seeking to wear my eyes out.
Here’s where I found something I still don’t know how I arrived at… it was a prompt that asked me if I wanted to undelete messages! Undelete? Really? I’ve never seen that before. So I said “yes” and that’s when Pandora’s box opened up. Continue reading →