Like A Dog In His Own House

How many words does it take to make your sex drive flatten out to absolutely zilch?

The night before last it took exactly 7.

When after a long day of changing stinky diapers, looking after my kids who were extra fussy, and cleaning up puppy poo, after puppy poo. (What was I thinking when we got not 2, not 3, but 4 dogs?! I must be mad.)

Anyhow, exhausted I lay in bed, still a little sick, and having just fallen asleep.

My husband leaps into bed, strips the covers off me, it's freezing cold, and starts frantically tugging at my pajamas.

Are they on fire? What?

I am awake (now), as the bright bedroom lights are blinding me, and the cold air hits me like a ton of bricks. Slightly irritated, and very awake, I manage to keep my pajamas on, trying not to freeze to death.

The unnecessarily fast, and eager tugging at me wasn't so bad.

What was bad, was when he muttered in a joking fashion the following while wrapping his arms around me, and starting to dry - well, hump my legs from behind as I lay on my side:

"I'm doing it like our dog does." He says.

I'm now being shook frantically in our bed.

Still being shook. What is the plan here anyway?

He was making reference to how our little male dog humps our two female ones. Wow.

What a great come-on.

Come on!??? Do I not deserve just a little romance. Forget romance for a minute I would take plain old politeness.

As the image of our gross little, filthy dog who poops every where is flashing in my mind (I like the dog, but he can be super gross), I quickly get out of bed, and dash for the only place that I can have some privacy - the bathroom.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and okay, forget about privacy, my husband is now sitting on a towel on our bathroom floor not 2 feet beside me as I pee.

He must be frozen I think.

I get it, he's playing the eager puppy card.

Not only have I awoken to a terrible dream where my husband has morphed into a dirty, horny dog, but now he is stalking me around the house, and there is no escape!

My head bowed, hair all a mess in my hands. I lift my head to look at him, and say "Honey, can I please just have a little privacy?"

So he left the room, and I started shaking my head.

He runs back into the bathroom.

"I saw you shaking your head. What's that all about? Are you mad at me or something?" He asks.

I'm now beginning to wonder if my husband has all of a sudden shrunk in age or something. I feel like I'm in a relationship tonight with a nervous, excited teenager who is as smooth as crunchy peanut butter.

"Honey, I just need a minute. Please go back to bed, I'll be up in a minute." I say.

He leaves.

I try to shake off the "I'm so not in the mood, at all, ever, in this century" feeling I am having, as I continue to shake my head.

I meander towards the bedroom, stopping at the stairs, looking up into the darkness.

I say to myself "Okay, I know he wasn't the most romantic man tonight. What am I saying, he was plain immature, yucky, ew, oh man that was the suckiest seduction I've ever experienced. Alright, forget that. Yes, forget the dog thing. No more dog. He's him, my wonderful, handsome, sweet, loving husband. I love him. I'm married to him - I've married a pervert, oh no - I mean, a great man. Okay, I'm going to just go up there, and we'll start over. I can do this. I love him."

I walk upstairs, into our room.

"Honey, don't ever try to seduce me like that again, please. And, when someone says they need some privacy, could you please just allow them the same treatment that you would expect? Thanks."

I got into bed, and he apologized.

I could tell that he felt terrible for being, what he called - "such an idiot."

Those are his words, and mine, I mean - just his, haha.

He morphed back into my husband, and it was all uphill from there.

Fewf.

Sincerely,

Mama of Romance
xoxo

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