July 30, 2004
***************
Mr. Y: (flipping an omelette over in the pan) I'm making you some lunch.
Me: (Sticking my hand inside of his boxers and cupping his lovely balls and his penis) Mmmm...these feel lovely.
Mr. Y: The omelette is collapsing.
Me: Is that what you're calling it these days?
***************
Mr. Y: (explaining yet another bit of English culture that I didn't understand in his Higgins way) You wouldn't understand. It's a high-class thing.
Me: Hey-I'm very cultured. I understand about these things.
Mr. Y: You don't know dick.
Me: (raising an eyebrow) Oh honey. I do know dick.
Mr. Y: My point exactly. Tart.
***************
Me: (holding the remote in my hands) Look, Will and Grace is on!
Mr. Y: What do you find funny about this? Someone walks into the room and laughs! What's funny about that? (He takes the remote and changes to Newsnight, a political show).
Me: Look at that! That newscaster is hideous! And she's ugly, too! And ohmigod, that's the ugliest tie I've ever seen! (I can't help but check out newscaster's ties. And let it be said: men, please stop wearing pink shirts and pink ties. I can't help but think "labia" when I see it).
Mr. Y: I don't think it's that bad.
Me: Ohmigod! That guy, Slade Gorton? He looks like a skeleton! Or like the preacher from Poltergeist! Did they deliberately look for the ugliest people in the world to interview?
Mr. Y: It's a political show, Helen. They care about insight, not looks. And what the hell is Poltergeist?
Me: I know that, I like political shows, I just don't see why they need to bang the drum and bring out the hideous folk to try to make a critical impression. I don't need to be visually assaulted to get a decent opinion. And honey-we really need to start watching more movies.
At least I can say that for all their "critical impact", the Ugly People used a number of grammatically incorrect words. And I still say Gorton looks like the evil preacher. You decide.
***************
In the car to the gym, Mr. Y leans forward to snap his seat belt tight. He leans back. Then he leans forward again to test it.
Me: What are you doing?
Mr. Y: I just wanted to check the restraining mechanism.
Me: Most people shorten that and call it a seat belt. But you can call it what you want.
***************
Me: (snuggling against him in bed) I have been so tired today.
Mr. Y: Me too.
Me: I think I have the encephalitic lethargia. (note: like the disease they suffered in Awakenings)
Mr. Y: Right. No more medical documentaries for you.
***************
Me: (sitting on couch next to Mr. Y) I have found a major trait that is an advantage women have over men.
Mr. Y: Oh really? Do tell.
Me: We can stop mid-stream.
Mr. Y: You have been bored today, haven't you?
Me: No really. We can stop mid-stream.
Mr. Y: So can boys.
Me: Yeah, but it doesn't hurt us. We just stop. You guys herniate something and are in pain.
Mr. Y: (sarcastic) Ah. Yes, women truly are a miracle. What a trait.
***************
Me: (bouncing into the bathroom while a naked Mr. Y is shaving) Do you still enjoy having the sex with me? (note: things are always funnier if you add a "the" in front of it).
Mr. Y: (pausing mid-shave to look at me.) Yes.
Me: Ok. Just checking. Enquiring minds wanted to know.
I bounce out of the bathroom.
***************
Me: I downloaded a Roxy Music song today.
Mr. Y: They were good. Which song?
Me: More Than This. I just like the song. I also have Tainted Love and Take On Me. I don't know what's happening, I keep downloading your kind of music.
Mr. Y: What kind of music is that?
Me: (Shrugging) You know...old.
Note: This is not a dig at his age, but rather at the MTV generation. He considers "his generation" to be 80's related, whereas mine is more 90's related. So he gets the good music that makes our heads bop around and are used in Saturday Night Live sketches that get made into movies, while I am stuck with things like Vanilla Ice and Right Said Fred, both of which are not things that I am proud of.
It's kinda' hard to remember much about the 80's for me, seeing as I was barely menstruating at the exit of them.
80's music is already beginning to be considered Golden Oldies, albeit in the tasteful term "Classics". It's happening. I saw on VH1 recently during a channel surf that the Cranberries song Linger is considered a golden classic. Linger. For God's sake, I listened to that song in university. Between that and being too old for glandular fever, I really am reaching the over-the-hill point faster than I had ever thought.
***************
In bed he lets me stand on his feet. This is a big thing, where I flex my foot against his, and he keeps his foot straight so that I am standing up. You can't do that with every guy, just the special ones.
Mr. Y: (turning over in his sleep, making himself mold against me and whispering) You're very special to me.
And for once I keep my flippant replies to myself. I just smile and squeeze the arm he has snaked under my breast, and kiss his wrist. We go to sleep like that, and at various points in the night I wake up and find we're still entangled-me lying across his back, our backs pressed up against each other, even the basics of out feet tangled.
Sometimes the best comeback in the world is to just try to remember the moment and keep it with you.
-H.
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