I am all happy on my side of the bed, and I am all hopeful Mark will not notice.
Yum.
He climbs into bed. I try to be very still and not attract his attention.
Man, am I happy.
Mark is not a man to just let this particular happiness be, “Why are you way over there?”
Ummmmm . . . “No reason. Just go to sleep.”
He rolls over to reach for me, and then?
The gig is up.
He laughs incredulously, “You brought the heating pad to bed with you?”
Sigh.
“Yes, I did and it is awesome. I have it cranked to high and I am as happy as I have been in a long time. Do not mock me. Oregon is colder than I thought it was going to be.”
“Kris, you can’t sleep on the heating pad.”
“Watch me.”
“Come snuggle with me. I’ll keep you warm.”
“Eh. I’m not in the mood to have sex.”
“Who said anything about sex?”
“I know you.”
“OK, no sex. Just snuggling.”
“Yeah, you say that now. But guess what? I don’t even have to risk the snuggling, because . . . ta dah . . . heating pad. I am all set.”
“That’s just ridiculous.”
“Seriously, babe. I am not in the mood.”
People?
Sometimes I say, “I am not in the mood,” but what I really mean is, “I am not in the mood at this moment, but if you are willing to put in a little extra effort? There might be handsome rewards of the moodish sort.”
This is not one of those times, but Mark fails to realize that.
So he is all busy putting in the extra effort.
You know how when someone is putting in the extra effort when you are really not in the mood?
And all you can think about is how incredibly ridiculous that person is being?
So awkward.
The whole thing is so absurd.
What the fuck is he thinking?
Who does that?
And so you just lie there super still and hope that he goes away . . . Like he’s a bear you have stupidly bothered in the woods, and you are now hoping to avoid being consumed.
I am dead! I am not even interesting! Go amuse yourself elsewhere, Mr. Bear!
Ahem.
Sometimes bears are persistent.
Sigh.
But I am all skilled at distraction, and so I suddenly roll away and exclaim, “Can you hear that rain? Man, is it raining hard! Let me just look out the window and check this shit out.”
We have a window just behind the head of our bed. I kneel on the bed and look out at the rain falling into our yard and the neighborhood beyond, “It is really raining, babe.”
Mark is incredulous, “We’re not going to have sex, but you are going to kneel naked next to my head and stare out the window? What’s up with that?”
Snort!
I turn and look down at him, “OK, we can have sex. Fine. But stop with the foreplay. You are annoying me.”
“You are the weirdest woman in the world.”
“So do you want to have sex or not?”
“Yes, I want to have sex. What do you think all this annoying behavior has been about?”
“Alright, then. Just sex. In and out. Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Seriously, Kris. You are a weird woman.”
I throw myself down onto the bed, “Bring on the perfunctory unsexy sex! Bring it on, babe!”
“I do not even know why I put up with you.”
“Yeah, like we’re not having sex now. You know we are.”
He rolls away from me, “Maybe we’re not. Maybe I’m not in the mood.”
I laugh, “OK, hold on. I can fix this.”
“I’m waiting.”
I take a deep breath to quell my giggles, and then I speak in a monotone, “Oh, baby. I must have you now. Please. Please. I must feel you deep within me. Now. Now. Now. Baby . . . baby . . . now.”
Mark snorts and reaches for me again, “Bring your hot ass over here.”
Which makes me laugh hysterically, because my ass is way fucking hot.
From the heating pad.
Duh.
And then . . . “I said no hands! Stop that!”
Snort!
Mark is a lucky lucky man.
Snort!
you are one hot piece of beast butt.
And saying, “I’m not in the mood,” is like telling a kid, “I double dare you!” We take it as a challenge.
And many times?
The words “I’m not in the mood” are a challenge.
Ahem.
This was not one of those times.
But still?
There was sex.
Snort!
I’m pretty sure you have video cameras set up in my house somewhere. Reading this post was like going through what happens in my bed more than I’d like to admit.
Snort!
Not all sex is of the mind-blowing variety.
Sometimes, it’s just sex.
Still lovely. Still close. Still intimate.
Just maybe not quite as lovely as say . . . a heating pad.
Snort!
Sometimes the boring, mundane sex is just what we need. Comfort is nice.
And so are heating pads.
Yes.
Comfort is nice.
Yes, it is.
This totally cracked me up, because of the:
“And all you can think about is how incredibly ridiculous that person is being?
So awkward.”
That is so true, and it just further puts me in a no sex mood because I’m super annoyed at how incredibly ridiculous that person is being. Situations like that usually end up with no sex being had and a pissed off husband.
And I’m also cracking up because I keep thinking about your guest post where you described the time you pretended to be a cat. I could see the same type of thoughts running through that guy’s head. ;-)
That used to be what happened at our house as well.
But then I announced the policy of occasionally having sex without being in the mood and stop trying to get me in the mood just keep your hands to yourself and we can have sex stop doing foreplay it is so annoying!
And so now there is much less pissed-off husband.
And having sex just to have sex once in a while? Not that bad, I must say.
And yes . . . I imagine cat-man’s thoughts were definitely of the, “Well, this is awkward and ridiculous” sort.
Snort!
“And all you can think about is how incredibly ridiculous that person is being?
So awkward.”
I agree–totally been there! So funny.
Doesn’t happen that often.
But when it does?
Awkward.
And hello, you!
I’ve had the heating pad in my bed for going on 3 weeks now. Icy feet do not warm up by themselves. But my heating pad has a timer and goes off after a while. I need 2-3 cycles to get the right amount of “HOT”.
I anticipate that when David arrives for his Christmas break visit he will put the kabosh on plugged in items in the bed. (Now, battery operated items are acceptable, mind you.)
This heating pad has a timer!
As I discovered when I woke up at 3:00 am and was not all hot-butted.
Hmmmph.
And David?
David is not even going to know what hit him.
Snort!
i am at this moment waiting for the furnace repair person. our oil furnace has been making strange i’m not in the mood noises, which whatever i dealt with, but now weird not in the mood smells so that’s not good. we always have it tuned up each year so we already had this scheduled just in time…the girls are up in frances’ room with the electric heater all snug. olive is wearing greg’s old knit baby sweater that is all tight and silly looking. frances used to cry every time i would even mention what she called the dada sweater.
Ack!
You know I hate being cold.
I am all shivery in sympathy.
Ugh.
Mark is a lucky man. Who wouldn’t want no handsys? By the way, you had the heating pad on your ass?!! Who’s ass gets cold? OK, I may have sat on a radiator now and then when I lived in the northwest.
I know, right?
No handsys can be fun!
He loves when I boss him.
Ahem.
Also?
I like to heat my core.
My ass?
My core.
The heat spreads from there.
I sleep with a heating pad EVERY night of my life. I even travel with it. Of course, there’s no correlation between that and sex. I mean, i have three kids to prove it. You’re crazy…but then we knew that didn’t we.
Really?
If you were at all normal or sane, I would point your comment out to Mark.
Use you as an example.
But as you are insane?
I will perhaps not mention you.
Snort!
Your beastly, patient butt was much appreciated in bed that night. Also, uhm, pretending to be a cat?? I am perhaps familiar with that post . . .over at another blog . . and I.Am.Dying!!! If it is what I am thinking of . . you seriously are the QUEEN of all that is FUNNY AS SHIT.
Yes!
Actual Cat is a guest post I did over at Blogging Dangerously.
Anyone else who wants to check it out can read it here . . .
http://www.bloggingdangerously.com/2010/09/g-spot-actual-cat-1.html
And thank you!
You are indeed the Queen!!
Thanks, lovely you!
Dude. You need an electric blanket.
Or maybe not, if Mark has any hope of getting any ever again. :)
If I commit to an electric blanket?
I am saying it is in fact too fucking cold where I live.
I am giving in. Hate that.
Heating pad is medicinal. No way that means the weather has beaten me.
Med-ic-in-al.
Snort!
Even better than the elec blanket is the elec mattress cover. Heat radiating up. Mmmmmmmm.
See, but Mark doesn’t want any extra heat of the non-sex sort.
So this whole electric blanket and electric mattress pad thing is not going to work for me.
Sigh.
I need electric jammies!
If I wore jammies?
That would be awesome!
my electric matress pad cover….has dual controls!! yes, you control your side and he can do whatever he wants on his side! :)
Hmmm . . .
I need that.
Immediately.
The first thing I really took from this post was that you were going to sleep naked with a heating pad. The second is that you realize that sometimes people need to just get it in and get it on. God bless you Kris. There is a special place in heaven for women like you!
I sleep naked.
Why would I put on clothing to greet the heating pad?
Snort!
As for the other?
Not at all sure I am going to heaven, but here on earth?
I am having big fun.
eww. that cold-ness sounds awful. I remember it quite well!
Also? you are very sexy lately. & naked.
Also? I couldn’t help but think throughout this whole post how horrified Maj & Kallan will be someday when they read it. Speaking of, do they know about this blog?
Maj and Kallan do know about this blog.
They read some of this blog.
But I am not required to write only things that are appropriate for my daughters to read.
So there.
And if they are someday horrified at the notion that their mother wrote about a moment with their father?
Tough shit.
Seriously.
I love my daughters, but I am not a G-Rated writer.
So tough shit.
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
In case it was not clear?
That “tough shit” was directed to some future version of my daughters.
And not to you.
Just so you know.
didn’t mean to start anything with my comment!
whoopsie! Also didn’t mean to imply that “horrified” maj & kallan is a bad thing. I was just picturing them with their jaws dropped is all.
& was curious what you thought of that.
& now i know.
that’s all.
Hey, you!
I am glad you came back.
I get some email and some comments I delete from people who are not you.
And they are full of annoying pronouncements about what a bad mother I am.
About how I should not swear.
Or talk about sex.
Or be inappropriate.
So your comment touched a nerve.
You didn’t start anything that had not already been started.
Thanks, lovely you . . . for returning to say hello again.
I know Mark reads the blog, but does Kallan and Maj read most of it too? I was a little confused with your comment… I am the easily-confused type. :)
Silly you.
Maj is 11 and Kallan is 9.
Pretty All True is not always child-friendly reading.
They read some parts outside of the context of Pretty All True.
Some of my G-Rated posts.
But no, obviously . . . they are not reading Pretty All True.
Oh good. I was hoping deep down they were not reading… but I was confused…. Sigh.
Silly you.
That is so not fair that you are tape recording the conversations going on in my bedroom!
You are not the first to say that to me today!
I have spies everywhere!
Bwahahahaha!
Kris,
Once again, God bless you for this. I am nowhere close to a G rated writer. Hell, you;ll generally find me in the NC-17 area. My daughter doesn’t read my blog either, but I know she eventually will. I’ve done a few things that I wish would have gone a little better, but I’m happy with who I am and I’m not going to write some vanilla bullshit just to make a couple people I don’t know happy.
You’re like the sister I never had. Please excuse me now. I feel like I’m going to cry and I need to go look at pictures of hot chicks in bikinis to get me back on track.
I guess I get a little annoyed when the suggestion is made that I should be careful not to “horrify” my daughters.
I am rarely appropriate in my thoughts.
And my written words are my thoughts.
My daughters are not going to read this post today, but if they did?
They would know that their parents love one another very much, that we are goofy, and that we have sex.
I am seriously all fine with that newsflash.
Thanks, you.
There is a reason why, when my plane crashes in the Andes and there is little hope of surviving in the frigid, snowy wasteland, that I want you with me.
The hot ass, of course.
We could toast marshmallows on that thing!
Welcome back, Nigel!
I have missed you.
Only marshmallows, though?
No weenie roasting?
Snort!
No smart reply from NIgel? I feel all kinds of let down. :(
I like his comments, not only are they funny but also I get to sing that XTC song in my head!
Nigel is hilarious, but occasionally?
Has things to do that are not me.
Snort!
He must be in high demand from all the lady bloggers. I’m sure he is very busy!
He’s actually on vacation right now.
I was surprised he stopped by at all.
He’s a sweetheart.
Oh my gosh I loved this post. Once again: giggling. Though I do worry about you and your heating pad bedmate, I have a dear friend who slept with one and got a really (I mean really) nasty burn on her leg as a result. So maybe a timer is a good thing afterall? A hot ass is nice. But a crispy ass? Not so much. Stay warm!!
There’s a timer.
It starts to cool after 45 minutes and shuts off after an hour.
No crispy ass for me.
Plus also?
So happy to have made you giggle!
Thanks, you!