I was at a luncheon with several colleagues. There were about 8 of us. We all are in the same profession and all meet three times a year. We've been doing it for over a decade. I can't remember how it started, I think maybe all of us were at the same in-city seminar and we all got kind of disgusted with how the men in our profession monopolized the across table dialogue (and it seemed mostly just to metaphorically compare dicks), so we all made a pact to meet every four months at a restaurant for drinks, dinner and conversation.
I like these women. Well, most of them. There are a few that I'm not crazy about, but I respect their work. We're all in a demanding profession and it's good to throw around ideas, compare notes, share stories and then...just talk.
After we had exhausted work talk, the discussion moved to other topics. Kids. Hair. Politics. Vacations. Spouses or lack of.
One woman whom I don't know all that well told us that she and her husband went on a "blind date" the previous evening. We all kind of stared at her. Someone asked how one goes about going on a blind date with a man that you've been married to for ten years.
She smiled. "I wear a wig, dress up in a fuck me dress and pretend to be someone else. We meet at a bar and he picks me up."
Everyone laughed and wanted to hear more. She went on to say how sometimes having two kids under the age of 8 kind of wears and tears at their love life and that they both decided that they wanted to find a way to "keep that love alive."
I asked her if it had worked, this charade.
"I was dubious at first," she admitted. "But, then I have to admit that we both started to really get into it and now we do it about once a month and it really keeps things fresh," she said.
I nodded. I get it. I can see how that would work.
Well, for some couples. I just can't see this working with Bing and me.
For one, if you are a long time reader of my blog, you might remember my spectacular failure at phone sex when Bing was away in Africa for a Summer. If not, to make a long story short: Bing, who was missing me a lot at the time, tried to initiate phone sex by coyly asking me in a sexy voice what I wearing as we spoke over the phone. Me, being me, well...I was clueless. I wondered why her voice was so weird and then I looked down at myself and said something to the tune that I was wearing that old Gin Blossoms t-shirt of hers, the one with the spaghetti stain on it that we could never get out? And jean shorts.
Finally, she had to EXPLAIN to me that she had been trying to have phone sex with me and I tried to comply and failed miserably because I just can't say, "Oh, baby, I'm wearing my black teddy and sitting here missing you so much that I can hardly sit still...."
When I was in college, I acted in plays. You'd think I could've pulled this shit off. But, I just...couldn't. It felt forced and stupid to my own ears. I was this close to bursting out laughing because I felt so silly. And Bing and I admitted that perhaps I was just a poor candidate for this sort of thing.
We did have a wonderful time when she came home though. I showed her in spades how much I had missed her...
But then the next time she went on a trip, she and I were talking and she wistfully asked me if I still had that red bra and panty set that I used to wear all the time but now that we'd been together for a few years, never wore anymore. Nope. Just the plain white Hanes For Her.
I was dumbfounded. I could barely remember that set. Did I even have it anymore?
Yes, she said. Second drawer on the left, in the panties drawer at the very bottom.
So, um...I asked...do you go through my panty drawers?
She admitted that yes, sometimes she did. Sue her. She missed me wearing lacy underthings. I retorted that she NEVER wore lacy underthings.
"Hey, I'm the dykey one," she said. "I wear the jeans and t-shirts. You wear the swirly skirts and bangly earrings and bracelets."
Oh. SO. We were stereotypes then?
Well, she had admitted. That particular shoe did, in fact, fit.
But, we do buck the system a little. She's a better cook than I am, but I CAN cook. I just prefer not to if I can avoid it. And when Liv was little, I swear, I baked like a fiend with that kid. We baked birthday cakes nearly once a week for her imaginary lion friend, Charley. We also washed his mane when I washed Liv's hair in the kitchen sink. This was a time consuming process as he tended to bolt right when we got him all bubbled up and then we would run screaming through the house trying to catch him.
"He just ran in the kitchen!" Liv would yell. "Check behind the pantry door!" And I would almost have him but he'd stomp on my foot with his big paw and I'd squeal as he got past me and streaked in the living room to jump on the sofa and taunt us. Often, I would have to threaten no birthday cake to get him to settle down.
Now, you would think that if I could pull THIS shit off, I could manage phone sex, don't you?
Well, I dunno. I just can't.
It's like sex toys. I can't do them. I always start laughing. Once Bing brought a vibrator into the bed and when she turned it on, I swear it sounded like our mixer. Made me start giggling. And then, well....passion turned to silliness and the vibrator was tossed on the floor. I have no idea where it is now as she has never introduced it again.
I just can't see us on a blind date. I can't see me in some Ann Margret wig, tottering around in my red high heels and black cocktail dress with the red belt. And fishnet stockings. Deep red lipstick. I'd end up smiling at her with lipstick all over my teeth and she'd lose it completely.
We have no imagination. We have great sex still after all these years, but we don't do role playing or game playing, we just...fuck.
I guess I'll have to leave the blind dating in a marriage to those who can do it with a straight face.
Can you? Seriously, I'm curious. No judging. I would actually find it kind of interesting if you have a story.....
Anyone care to share? Or are you vanilla like me?