Are you ever going to wear lingerie again?
As I roll over and yank the seam of my cottony soft men's pajamas bottoms from where it had ridden during the night, I say:
What?
Lingerie, ya know, like you used to.
Oh, yeah. No.
Why not?
Um, OK, well, let's see. A) I would have to still own some. B) I would have to have a body that didn't look like a stretchy garbage bag - with the garbage no longer inside. C) If I wore it, you would assume I was in the mood. You would be wrong. D) I'd have to get a wax. E) We live in Vermont... do you find goosebumps sexy?
Ha. Ha.
No, really. We're not 20-somethings anymore. We're not capable of staying up half the night because we can't get enough of each other.
I know. But that doesn't mean...
[A door slams.]
(LET ME IN! DADDY! SHE WON'T LET ME IN MY ROOM!)
I know, I know. Of course I'm not saying we shouldn't be doing that anymore. I just mean..., well, come on. Can you really see me going through the bedtime battle, dripping with flung bath water and exhaustion, dragging myself into the bedroom and then... d-da! Paris Hilton?
Well, of course not.
And you. You're usually in bed a couple hours before I am, Fabio. Where are your silk boxers?
I'd just like to have a little fun sometimes.
I have one thing to say...
(THAT'S MINE!)
(NO! MINE! AHHHHHHHHHHH! MAMA!)
Hotel.
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