Lately I've been trying to subtly convince my boyfriend that I would make a good wife and mother. I think this would be a lot less difficult if our "How We Met" story was a little different.
The night I first set eyes on my boyfriend, he had already set eyes on me from across the dance floor. My heavy eye make-up, high heeled dancing shoes and tight jeans were a beacon of hope for any single man wanting to get all up on a tall, leggy, childless woman. I didn't leave my apartment that night with the intention to make out with the first automobile mechanic that bought me a vodka tonic. Alas, there I was, licking the inside of the mouth of this man who paid for my drink and told me that he "worked on cars." Much to the enjoyment/embarrassment of the other club patrons, we worked the dance floor in the most erotic way two white people can. As a matter of fact, The only reason I didn't follow this mechanic home that very night was because I had carpooled with my roommate.
It only took a couple more awkward movie and or bowling dates for me to prove just what type of girl I was. The exact opposite type of girl you'd like to marry and make the mother of your children. Let's face it. This early on, men want an enthusiastic gymnast, not Betty Crocker.
That was more than a year ago and I'm beginning to worry that I may have not behaved in the most appropriate way possible. In an effort to adjust the dynamic of our situation, I just bought a recipe book so I could figure out how to make muffins. I hope my efforts aren't totally obvious or pathetic. Hey... Maybe I'll just bake the muffins with nothing but a g-string and my new oven mitts. Who wouldn't want to marry that?
I'd marry that. Let me introduce you to how my husband and I met.......many months of me, bartending, him, many months of staring, practically gawking at my radiance and Hee Haw locks of strawlike hair. Seeing other men and women fawn over someone somehow gives the illusion one is wanted.
ReplyDeleteI applaud your decision to investigate his oral cavities on the first date. After a first date with my current husband at Red Lobster and 6-17 bottles of wine later, I whispered/stammered/heaved the words "would you be upset if I wanted to have sex with you?". Now, seeing how I was all gussied up and near stomach pumping status, my date hurried me upstairs to my room where I remember nothing.
7 months later, as I am carrying his child, moving into his home, he is believing this will be the family he never had. Until we moved the bed and found numerous used condoms beneath my bed. Then we moved the futon that housed numerous condoms beneath it including a list of people I had befriended with my vagina. Awkward.
So, I say, go with it. Bake that muffin in a muffin cover up gstring and when you turn into an angry prude that never drinks and has no sense of humor,he will understand he married the perfect wife and mother after all. And remember..........the more you do, the more they expect.