My husband and I have been trying to avoid getting bored in our marriage by proactively taking steps to ensure that this doesn’t happen. We have been married 15 years. I am 40 and he is 46. One of the ideas that we came up with was to go dancing at a club like we did when we were younger.
We thought it would be fun to have a contest and see who gets “hit on” the most. We are both good looking for our age, but didn’t quite look like most of the young hip 20s crowd.
After about an hour (and more than a few cocktails), we had enough courage to split up and see who would “win” the bet.
I walked around a bit, saw some appreciative glances in my direction and even managed to get asked to dance. I was feeling pretty good until I saw my husband (with a big goofy grin on his face ) draped in the arms of a woman. Of course, I felt a little pang of jealousy that he so clearly won our bet, but figured fair is fair and let him have his moment of glory. After a few minutes, I strolled over to retrieve him from her clutches. She was very sweet and very pretty and my husband looked like he had just signed with the Yankees.
I told him it was time to go home (hubby looking very triumphant) but as we were walking away, she grabbed us. I thought she was gearing up for a fight, but she giggled and said, “thanks for loaning me your husband. I was trying to get away from a guy that was hitting on me so I told him that your husband was my protective Father and he better stay away.”
I couldn’t stop laughing the entire way home. As you can imagine, that was the last time we went to a club.
We have two cars. On the lower left-hand corner of each windshield, they have registration stickers and inspection stickers–right next to the local police supporter stickers. This is the standard sticker situation for everyone in NY.
I readily admit that I am not a car person. I don’t call the cars by their rightful branded names–I refer to them as the blue car and the black car. Car maintenance is Fred’s “job”. He washes the cars (periodically), takes the cars in for an oil change (when the reminder light becomes difficult to ignore), and sometimes even monitors the stickers’ expiration dates.
It was early February. The new registration sticker for the blue car had arrived in the mail. It sat on the “outgoing” counter, unnoticed, along with grocery coupons and other stuff for the car. It was the third Saturday in February, before I gently nudged Fred, “Can you please put the new registration on the car?
“Sure,” he said, “after the football game.”
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Last night my husband finally decided to do the cooking (it’s only been 20 years of marriage for him to make this offer). He’d been resisting of course as his culinary skills are terrible. He’d sooner throw the can of beans at the wall before figuring out that he could open the drawer for a can opener.
So, in his first attempt ever in the kitchen, he started by getting out a recipe book.
He got a saucepan, stuck it on the burner, and lit it.
What next? Oh, yes, fry the chicken. Did he chop it up? No, it was bloody terrible. You’d think that he would see how burnt it became but ALSO no. He added the spices and the sauce and attempted to stir.
He was meant to use Cous Cous. However, being a bloke, this wasn’t an option so he replaced my beautiful idea of a romantic meal with CHIPS!
Needless to say, the meal looked like what it should have been an hour after I digested it, brown, sticky, and pretty awful.
Our lawnmower has been broken for a few weeks now. My husband has been begging me to consider going to look at and purchase a new one. I want to get him a lawnmower, but something else always seems to break and get in the way first: the car, the truck, the washer, the dryer or the television. It never seems to fail. As soon as we want to go out and purchase a new lawnmower, something else comes up that we need to buy first or that I consider being more important.
One day I came home from work to find my husband trying to plead his case in regards to getting a new lawnmower. He was sitting in our yard cutting grass with a pair of scissors. I went in the house and returned outside a few minutes later with a toothbrush in hand. “Do you think you can sweep the driveway when you are finished with the grass?” I asked handing him the toothbrush. Needless to say, his plea did not get the reaction he wanted.
My husband had done little but play video games since he was given a Wii for his birthday. For some reason, he took a strange liking toward a fast food based video game called “Drive Thru.”
Intent on setting high score after high score, he would eat all the burgers in the maze while eating real hamburgers that I’d cooked for him. This beef intensive diet was causing me to worry about his physical health as well.
The questions began to mount in my mind.
“Perhaps he’s acting out some childhood lack of fun and adventure?”
“Perhaps it’s the smell of healthy food that I’ve been eating that made him snap.”
“Has he even snapped yet?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what’s real anymore!”
At first my concerns weren’t taken seriously. He would lay his controller-blistered hand on my hand to comfort me. But, eventually I became more persistent in my questioning. And he finally became more serious in his answers.
“Do you realize I might be the best player in the world?” he asked inquisitively. “How many people do you know that are the best at something?”
I had a slightly different view of him. He saw himself as a conqueror, achieving new heights with every sit-down. I saw him as a guy on a couch, covered in fallen sesame seed bun crumbs.
This might call for some drastic action. I soon started swapping the ground beef for veggie burgers to make his diet a bit more stable. He didn’t seem to notice the change through his intense frame of mind.
And as for the game, well, the “deep fry high” seems to finally be wearing off for him. He’s down to an every other day “Drive Thru” habit.
I could hear my three children splashing and giggling as I walked down the hallway. I stopped at the bathroom doorway and poked my head inside. My exuberant 2 and 3 year olds were joyfully screeching, bouncing and smacking the water. Even though the bathroom was a mess and my husband looked like he had just emerged from a whirlpool, I thought, “all good, at least the kids are having fun and will be clean” so I went downstairs to make dinner for me and my husband.
A little while later, my husband brought the kids in with their warm, comfy pajamas on. When I went to give them a big kiss and hug, I noticed that they had Spaghetti O’s in their hair and something that smelled like syrup on their face. “Ughh, hon, why are the kids still so dirty?” He just shrugged and replied, “I gave them a bath…what’s wrong?” “Hmm…..did you shampoo and condition in their hair?” As he was staring blankly back at me, it occurred to me that he probably didn’t use soap either. And, when I asked him, he just smiled and said, “You didn’t say I needed to use soap or shampoo.”
So, as my husband went to watch some basketball, I took the kids back to the bath……and, when I walked in, yup, floor flooded, towels strewn, soap, shampoo and conditioner nowhere to be found.
Word of advice……be very specific if you need anything done.
I get embarrassed just thinking about this one.
I was with my husband on a trip in Niagara Falls. We had been on the Canadian side and were about ready to cross back over to the US side. As we were going through customs my husband was driving our large truck and he pulled slowly to the window where the guard was standing.
The guard looks at my husband and says, “What is your nationality?” My husband spouts off “Ohio” (state changed to protect the innocent LOL).
The guard looks a bit irritated and says again, “What is your nationality?” My husband is clearly confused at this point and looks toward me for advice…I said under my breath, “Tell him you are AMERICAN!!!” The whole time I was thinking, “Oh my gosh.
They are going to pull out the SWAT team on us any moment. We are not going to get back across the border!!” I will NEVER forget the expressions on the guards face, my husband’s or the lovely feeling as we finally crossed safely back into the US.
My husband and I had our first child recently. Our child had his first doctor’s appointment when he was a week old. We gathered his things and went to the appointment. After leaving the appointment, we gathered his things and returned home. I was still recovering from a C-section at the time. So, my husband was in charge of carrying the car seat for the time being. I got out of the car and shut the door. My husband got out of the car, pushed the door luck and shut the door. I just stared at him. He gave me one of those “What are you looking at me for?” looks.
I continued to stare at him and finally I asked him, “Did you forget something?” Eventually it hit him that he forgot to get the baby out of the back seat before locking the door. Needless to say he felt both embarrassed. Let’s just hope this doesn’t happen again.
I was making melt in your mouth sugar cookies last night along with pork tenderloin and some vegetables. I walked in the kitchen to find my husband piling his plate full of delicious food. He had tenderloin, corn, macaroni and cheese and my cookie batter on his plate. I gave him a strange look and he kept piling on the food.
He said, “What’s wrong with the potatoes?”
“You’re mashed potatoes. What did you use in them?”
Silly man had thought my cookie dough batter was mashed potatoes and just thought that I had royally effed them up. The crazy part…he was still considering eating them and if I had not caught him with them on his plate he would have taken a huge bite of mashed sugar dough “potatoes”. I was rolling!!!
When my 30th birthday was coming up, I was getting excited but tried not to show it.
I figured with it being a bit of a milestone, my husband would be doing something extra special to make my day bright. He told me to make sure I could leave work early and meet him for dinner at our favourite restaurant. I had all kinds of thoughts running through my head. We’d talked about going on an overseas trip so I thought maybe he’d be surprising me with this fantasy trip we’d talked about for so long. Well, we got to the restaurant and had a delicious meal. There was no mention of any trip or birthday present or anything during our conversation.
I started to think that maybe he hadn’t gotten me anything at all. But he assured me that he did have something special waiting for me in the car. We soon left the restaurant and were driving when he suddenly said he had to run an errand. He stopped the car at a hardware store and I just assumed he needed something for his job. But, no. That wasn’t it at all. When he got back in the car, he looked at me and said, “Happy Birthday. Enjoy.”
Then he tossed the bag over to me and I looked inside. There sitting in a paper bag was a shower head to replace the one that had broken in our bathroom! And to top it off, he looked so proud of himself. So now when my birthday rolls around, I keep my expectations low.