Last Thursday was a good day.
On Wednesday night, MJ and I made it a point to schedule some “adult time” on Thursday. And by “adult time” I mean sandwiches baby! First of all, how depressing is it that carnal relations needs to be scheduled? Just like the dentist and the pediatrician. But you parents out there know it’s also necessary. And if you’re one of those couples who still gets freaky on a regular basis even after becoming parents…fuck you. Seriously, fuck you right in your face. And stop lying.
So, getting back to our regularly scheduled nookie. Despite lacking spontaneity, I was sufficiently pumped about this because frankly, it had been a while. And when my awesome wife surprised with me some suggestive text messages during the day, “sufficiently pumped” turned into “drooling like a maniacal fiend.” By the time I got home it was all I could do not to just toss Will into the crib and drag MJ off into the bedroom a la my caveman ancestors.
But in excruciating parental fashion, we had to wait until Will had dinner, the dog was fed and walked, Will got a bath, we read him his bedtime stories, etc. When you have a kid you don’t do anything spontaneously. There’s a routine for everything and you follow it or you pay for it later. So even though I was looking at MJ like a piece of filet mignon, I had to wait until the little guy was ready for bed.
After what seemed like forever, I tore off my clothes and ran like an overexcited teenager we calmly adjourned to the bedroom. Honestly, at this point I was no better than a dog who had been tied to a leash and starved of any and all female attention for prolonged periods of time. In other words, I started groping my wife more excitedly than Mackenzie Phillips on Father’s Day (what? Too soon??).
Things were going swimmingly (or so I thought), and just as I was ready to go nuclear, I was stopped dead in my tracks by MJ.
MJ: “You know, I’m not a piece of meat.”
I didn’t respond or really hear her for that matter, because all that was going through my head was “BOOBIES BOOBIES BOOBIES NAKED WIFE BOOBIES!”
MJ: “Hey! Did you hear me?”
ME: (realizing she’s talking but not registering the words) “Yeah baby, you’re so hot!”
MJ: (getting irritated) “Seriously, why do you have to grope me like an animal?”
ME: (also getting irritated) “Because you’re so hot I can’t help myself. It’s a compliment. Now where were we?”
At this point she elbowed me in the stomach which I’ve come to learn is my cue for getting the hell off of her. She went on to tell me that she likes a little romance. I told her I thought we covered the romance part with the text messages earlier in the day and 30 seconds ago when I told her she was hot. But apparently we have different ideas of romance.
At that point I tried to tell her that I simply display my feelings in a more physical way. My constant pawing and groping is a huge compliment. Because if I wasn’t interested or if I didn’t think she was smokin’ hot, I wouldn’t bother. I’m not sure how she can’t see my perfectly logical explanation but she didn’t, and so I asked her what she wanted. Because at that point in time, I would’ve done just about anything. And that’s when things went bad.
MJ: “Well, I like a little flirting and snuggling.”
ME: “I like that stuff too.”
MJ: “Yeah but you only like it if it leads to sex.”
ME: “Well…yeah. Obviously. Why bother if it doesn’t lead to sex?”
MJ: “See!?! That’s what I’m talking about!”
ME: “What?? OK, OK…hang on a minute. Just tell me what you want. Tell me what you’re looking for here.”
MJ: “OK. So think back to when you were dating a girl for a couple of months, you know, before you slept with her, and try to remember how you’d touch her. You’d still be a little shy and you wouldn’t know exactly how far you could go. You know what I mean?”
(I should’ve said yes. I should’ve just gone along with it. But before I could harness my brain, my mouth was already moving.)
ME: “No, I have no idea what you mean! I’ve never been with someone for TWO MONTHS and not slept with them. Are you crazy?? Who’s with someone for two months and not having sex? That’s fucking nuts!”
MJ: “Wow. I married a pig.”
(Brain still not catching up to mouth)
ME: “And I apparently I married a c*ck tease.”
Look, I know how this makes me look. And I won’t apologize for ANY of it. Because dammit, when you become a parent things change where sex is concerned. Instead of lighting some candles and her putting on some lingerie, sex is a game of Beat the Clock. You have to get the baby to bed and try to do it before he wakes up. “Making a special effort” means not wearing clothes with spit up, baby food or toddler excrement on it to bed. Do it before the dog jumps back on the bed and starts licking you inappropriately mid-coitus, or the cat takes up residence on your back.
Scented candles and soft music really aren’t an option anymore except for special occasions. And the dog would eat any rose petals I laid out on the bed and I’d end up cleaning dog vomit off the comforter. Sure once in a while we’ll have a night or two without Will, but even then it’s tough.
Having a kid is physically fucking exhausting. MJ doesn’t even get home from work until 7:30 p.m. most nights, and since she’s usually in her sweatpants and asleep by 9 p.m. that leaves precious little time. It really boils down to a 30-minute window from the time Will goes to bed at 8:30 p.m. to the time MJ goes down for the count at 9. And that’s only if there’s nothing good on TV that night (I wish we could afford DVR!).
So that is the reason I act like I do. And frankly, I’m of the opinion my wife — and all women — should be flattered by this behavior. Because this is a guy’s way of telling you we long for you, we pine for you, we’d run through walls to be with you. And we’re so passionate about you that we literally can’t stop ourselves from touching/grabbing/groping you.
If that’s not romantic I don’t know what is!