My husband did something wrong on Sunday night. Not illegal or life-changing or even earth-shattering. Just inconsiderate. You know, the things that men do sometimes. And he rarely does this kind of thing. In fact, I frequently write about him in the most positive light. (Read “Yet Another Reason Why I Love My Husband”.) So much so that those who read about him think he is perfect. But, ahem, he’s not. And don’t even try to get me to tell you what he did. Because some things between a husband and wife are sacred. And while I do, at times, share a lot of information on my blog (some would say too much, while others would say not enough), this is not going to be one of those times.
When these confrontations happen and feelings are hurt, and emotions run high and tension in the house is palpable, our relationship for the few days following takes a certain predictable course. We don’t talk much the first day except for the offering of an apology and a hanging of the head. No daytime phone calls at work, no text messaging, no I love yous and definitely no sex. Another day passes. The chill slowly thaws out, much like the weather here in
I know there are lots of jokes about how great make-up sex is. There are also some more serious articles written about it. And I’ve got to tell you, it’s true for us. I think make-up sex is so different because, for the days preceding the sex, emotions have been running high, there has been little or no affection and all that just builds up and explodes. So to speak.
So we made up Thursday night. Fireworks abounded. And then went out and had sushi. It was an excellent night. So excellent, I guess my husband wanted to make sure that I didn’t forget it. Friday morning, we were on our usual power walk. (We try to walk together 4-5 days a week. In our busy kid and work filled lives, it’s our alone time.) About a third of the way in to it, my husband stopped in his tracks and started laughing this goofy, once every 6months laugh, where his whole body was shaking and he couldn’t talk. Someone drove by and almost stopped because it looked like he was having a seizure. He had just noticed that, in a moment of passionate make-up sex, he had given me a hickey on my neck. What? How old are we?
So now what do I do? Wear a turtleneck or face explaining it to my children and the general public? But now it’s too hot to wear a turtleneck because the weather has warmed up. I could put makeup on it. Or I could just pretend it’s not there and forget about it. Which is what I did. Until I was at my son’s basketball game this afternoon, wearing a v-neck t-shirt. I saw a girlfriend there and within 30 seconds she said to me “You have a hickey on your neck.” And then I quickly went through my head and thought of everyone I had already seen that day who had probably seen the hickey yet didn’t mention it: my kids, my daughter’s two friends, my ex-husband (who was at my house having lunch for an hour), my daughter’s friend’s mother, my former mother-in-law, my son’s coach and the rest of my town.
How embarrassing. So much for the “Mother of the Year” award I was hoping to get. But at least I’m having good sex. My husband thinks I’m sexy. And the weather is warm.