Ode to My Husband

My husband totally rocks.

Well, not ALL the time, of course. There are certainly those moments when I want to open a can of whoop-ass on his insensitive "I live on Mars and you are from Venus" attitude. But there are also a lot of moments that make me go "aww, I have the best hubby since Mike Brady." I guess that's what keeps me from running away and living with the circus, or at the very least, divorcing him. God designed it that way, you know. Men and women annoy each other just enough so that things aren't always beautiful and serene, but then he added a little dash of communication and understanding so that we continue to propagate the human race. He was a pretty smart omnipotent being, I must admit.

So last night was one of those nights that made me appreciate my other half. The reason for this consisted of one out-of-body experience inducing FULL BODY massage (yes bitches, I said FULL BODY--that's a lot of area) followed by sweet, sweaty pleasure that left me drooling on my pillow and not being able to feel my legs. It. Was. AWESOME. No other word for it. I know awesome is terribly overused, but this cannot be described as anything but awe inspiring in the most literal sense. But...

Yes, when we are talking about men, there is almost always a but.

The reason I got this pampering, gluttonous treatment was because he owed me. Yes ladies, you know the deal. It's our upper hand, our guarantee to at least sometimes getting what we want and being thought of first--because THEY screwed up. Or acted stupid, said something stupid or some combination of the above. In this case, my darling hubby stayed out until 4 a.m. at his buddy's house on Saturday and then because he was SO tired yesterday morning, I made him breakfast and waited on him hand and foot like the super 50's wife that I am.

HA, 50's wife my ass.

I might help him out when he is so hungover he can't see, but then--you know it, he's gonna OWE ME. So yesterday he offered me a massage. And I gladly accepted this offer. And added a few more things to sweeten the deal and ease the sting of barely sleeping Saturday night because I was so worried about him getting home safely and then waking up for an hour when he got home to sniff him for the scent of another woman and check his pockets for matchbooks with phone numbers on them. (I'm just kidding about that. Let me clear this up by assuring everyone that I trust my husband more than anyone in this world and I know he is always where he says he is. You can't have a marriage with anything but this level of trust. So for all of you that have comments on your tongue ready to give me shit for being a jealous, untrusting wife, go BITE IT.)

So to summarize, last night was awesome. My husband is awesome. And no matter what us ladies say, we always want our husbands to screw up occasionally because then we get treated like the queens that we really are. Don't deny it.

But, in all seriousness, I love my husband like fat kids love cake, and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. We have grown in our marriage together so that it almost feels as if part of me is him and part of him is me. When he isn't there, I feel a little empty, and breathe a sigh of relief when we are reunited. And lately, we seem to be hitting our stride. Like after seven years, the kinks and poorly performing parts of our relationship have been re-designed so that we can function at (almost) 100% every day. He gets me. He knows what to say and when to say it. And he makes me feel like the only woman on earth.

And that, my friends, is WAY better than any massage. Word.