In order to try to jumpstart the need for romantic interludes seeing as how new babies and healing girly parts tend to put a damper on such things for some time, I decided to take charge one late weekend night. Our downstairs bathroom is right off the TV room and our Apple sits right on the other side. So while Harry was surfing on the net I went to the bathroom and, since my mobility is somewhat limited (as is my libido), I just left my pants and pantaloons pooled around my ankles as I shuffled to his side.
He was laughing hysterically at some You Tube video showing Hilter's supposed response to the tragic Ipad. He glanced up at me and pointed at the screen,: "This is HILARIOUS!"
"Uh huh," was my response as I continued to feel a cold breeze assault my netherregions. "Is it funny, darling?" I leaned against his arm.
He looked back at me and grinned. Oblivious.
"Fine!" I huffed and started scooting toward the couch while trying not to stumble around my pants still pooled at my stockinged feet.
"Wait - what?" he looked over at my retreating half-naked form. "Why are your pants off?"
"Just let it be duly noted that you chose HITLER over nookie. HITLER!" I yelled while yanking my pants to their rightful upright position.
"But, wait! I didn't know - I didn't see - I --- You really should watch this video - it's hilarious!"
"No," I said, stubbornly.
A few hours later we were going to bed. I was still smarting over my snub so as I was getting dressed - I dropped my drawers again, stuck my butt in the air and yelled "HITLER! HITLER PANTS!"
You'd think this game would be old by now.
But it's not.
It hasn't rekindled any inklings of romantic notions - but we do reassure one another that our girl and boy parts are still there through brief flashes and war cries of "HILTER!"
Oh what our neighbors must think...