So this morning I tossed a jar of Eucerin (that’s old lady lotion, in case you didn’t know) at my husband and said, “Here, rub this on my legs and let’s have sexy times,” because I know nothing if not the value of a good come-on line. And that’s not as icky as it sounds, because we don’t use the lotion for, you know, that, but my legs were really reptilian dry and I had just gotten out of the shower. Optimal time for moisturizing, duh.
Yes, I had just gotten out of the shower, because I’m CONSIDERATE like that. I even shaved my legs a little.
I had been having sex dreams all morning, which is what typically happens when I go off the Paxil for a few days (“go off” the Paxil = I am either too lazy or too stupid to remember to dose myself despite the fact that I’ve been taking the stuff for YEARS), because while Paxil does a fairly decent job of quelling those overwhelming desires to jump in front of moving trains and such, it has the unfortunate side effect of quelling other desires as well.
And these dreams were just as weird as any other of my dreams. In one my husband had three wives and I wasn’t nearly as pleased about that as you would think because even in the dream I was not in the mood to wait my turn to be, uh, serviced; I wanted my sexy time NOW.
And in another dream we were in a rush to get to Dallas (?) to be present at the sexy time of another couple, which is super mega weird and icky but again, not as icky as you’re thinking, because we weren’t going to actually witness The Act, and this couple was just doing sexy time to get pregnant, which really isn’t all that sexy at all, and we were only there to be on hand for the celebration afterward of the conception. Sometimes this couple was Alice and Shrek, which EW EW EW, and sometimes it was this other young couple we know who just had a baby which is even more super EW but I think dreaming this is all Alice’s fault anyway because for about an hour before I went to sleep last night we were DMing each other possible names for her possible next child. SO THIS POST IS REALLY ALL YOUR FAULT, ALICE.
Even in the dream I realized I needed to shower for sexy time to occur (my husband is not really all that fastidious, not fastidious at all in fact, but I have STANDARDS, people, and THOUGHTFULNESS FOR MY PARTNER), but I thought I might knock both out at the same time and was formulating a half-baked plan to perform a sex act in which I braced myself in mid-air against the shower wall, and while I was actually in the shower awake, I looked around and assessed the likelihood of that ever transpiring and came up with NOT FUCKING LIKELY without me ending up in a back brace for the rest of my life and my husband ending up in a coma and my legs aren’t nearly long enough for such shenanigans in the first damn place.
So, no, JUST NO, on sexy shower times. And in the interest of total disclosure, my bathroom doesn’t look at all like that, SO SHUT UP ABOUT MY SPACESHIP COFFIN SHOWER STALL, ALICE.
UPDATE BEFORE I EVEN HAVE THIS POSTED: So yeah, I would have totally had this posted, like, hours ago, but husband, who happened to be home at the time I was writing this and for some reason* was taking a keen interest in this particular post, was all, “You should totally draw some pictures for this one. People like pictures.” Which meant he wanted me to draw a picture of him having sex with another woman, I’M NOT STUPID, HUSBAND, and then he was being all judgey and critical and “put hair on her; I wouldn’t fuck a bald woman” and “make it all long and flowing all down the bed. Blonde, of course,” and I’m all, “What the HELL, husband, whose dream was this, anyway?” but because I’m a good sport I did what he asked but I told him he was not getting any hair and all the blood in the next picture came out of HIM.
*yeah, I know, SEX. Duh.