Thursday, January 18, 2007

ten years and counting

So the Sober Husband and I celebrated the tenth anniversary of our forming what should have been our partnership in crime, but which has instead turned out to be a partnership of virtue, industry, and restraint in the service of our child overlords.

Gifts bestowed upon the S.H. by me: 18 volt cordless DeWalt drill, faux suede hat with earflaps (we're having a cold snap), and a refillable butane lighter (for miscellaneous fires, not cigarettes).

Gift bestowed upon the D.H. by the Sober Husband: the dining room print I've been wanting in a series by a local artist (I have the kitchen print hanging in my kitchen, the bedroom in my bedroom, and the bathroom print in the downstairs bathroom).

We went to one bar/restaurant, one just plain bar, one bar/cafe, a library (yes, a library, where I scored the new Richard Stark and the husband got a heavy tome on medical bioethics), and a nightclub.

Highlight for the Sober Husband: we had sex in the nightclub bathroom. (It would have been the more obscure stacks at the library, but it was too close to closing time).

Highlight for the Drunken Housewife of the rare outing sans children: as we were arriving at a fashionable new nightclub downtown, the two bouncers, one male, one female, rotely asked for I.D. The female bouncer immediately did a double take, noticing my tattooed cleavage, and said, "Don't show me your I.D., show me your tits!" I pulled down my low-cut neckline further to reveal a red push up bra, and she threw her head down and nuzzled into my cleavage, kissing my right breast.

Yes, indeed it has come to this: having an anonymous stranger feel me up is more exciting than actually having sex. As I remarked to the husband, I have sex with him all the time, but it's been years since I've been out of the house in a low-cut shirt and had a stranger get so excited about my tits. (Fittingly enough, his strongest memory of that fateful night ten years prior was taking the excuse of assisting me with a nametag to feel up my left breast).

7 comments:

hughman said...

ok.

after the angelina jolie comment, i am so. turned. on.

i only hope the SH is too.

Bwwwwwwwehhhh.

that's the sound of me snuggling in your tits.

and yes, i am gay.

Anonymous said...

How many people were using that restroom at the time?

reluctant housewife said...

God I love this blog...first the post on Israeli food and now this.

I can only dream that our 10 year anniversary is as great as yours!

Congratulations!

Anonymous said...

Good choice on the drill.

the Drunken Housewife said...

Silliyak, you would have loved watching me buy the drill. Me, all confidence, to the hardware store person: "I want a cordless drill, a very powerful one." Hardware store woman: "What are you going to do with it?" Me (losing all credibility as a tools user): "Ummm, give it to my husband?"

Freewheel, we were the only ones in the bathroom. It was one of those small ones you can lock the door of. We did once have sex in a large, multi-user club bathroom, but the stall doors went all the way down to the floor and we were quiet when other people were in the room.

Aya said...

Ah.







*squinty eyed sad face, creeped out but kind of ok with it...face*

People like you and your husband make me not want to use the potty. How arousing is it to have sex in a smelly cess pool of bacteria, grime and listening to innocents tinkling?

the Drunken Housewife said...

Umm, actually we don't touch the floor or the toilet (unless one of us needs to pee). We also don't do anything if there's anyone else in the facility, so the hearing an innocent tinkle doesn't apply.

I think that at the club, everyone thought we went in to do drugs together, which is what usually happens in my city when two adults sneak into the bathroom together.