No Massage envy here....

Censorship warning: For my parents, siblings, relatives, friends, acquaintances and blog strangers that NEVER wanted to know anything tiny details about my sex life, stop reading right now and enjoy the rest of your day. Ok. bye bye.

I have been under an inordinate amount of stress lately. I am not talking the day to day "piles of laundry, defunct appliances, need to run to the bank/post office/grocery store, the 5 year old bit the 7 year old" kind of stuff. Well, that still exists, but add a crap load of other shit on top of that and you've got me. So during a mid-morning phone call with my husband, my best friend, my soul mate, my rock, I confided that I am at my breaking point and I need to connect with him as I feel that we have been running opposite directions lately. I need a chance to not think about "things" for awhile and relax, etc. He totally agreed and is all game, which is great. So our evening runs as usual: He blows through the door with enough time to grab a kiss, a sandwich and one of the kids to head to baseball practice. I leave shortly after that and head to hockey with the other 2 and also make stops at Target and the grocery store on the way home....Ahh yes....home....the Utopia where I am greeted by the wreckage of a half-ass dinner, backpacks all over, dirty clothes from the uniform change, mail, homework, lunches for tomorrow, crabby tired kids, teeth brushing, bed time stories, and laundry laundry laundry. I flop into bed exhausted after the tornado that tore through our house had subsided. Unintentionally, I let out a sigh that measured 3.8 on the Richter scale and may have been heard by most inhabitants in the Western Hemisphere. "Tired?" he asks. I grunted something that my brain thought was a "yes". Then he said the sweet words every woman wants to hear in bed "Wanna back massage?" I just rolled over in agreement. And this is where he and I need to have a serious discussion about the finer points of a back massage; I know that this man is not gay. But his limp-wristed swatting of my back left A LOT to be desired. And the intensity and attention of the so called back massage was directly related to the excitement and intensity of whatever sporting event he was watching on tv. During time-outs or commercial breaks, I got some decent attempts on knot-reduction. During key plays, it was as if he were putting forth a half-ass effort at getting a gnat off of me. Then, some overpaid idiot jock made a stupid play, and I damn near choked on my kidney when he thumped me in the shoulder blade with his man paw. So, to save my life and internal organs, I moved away. When the game was over, all attention was back on me. "Are you better?" he asked. I am pretty sure he was referring to his oh-so-healing back massage and not any lacerated organ injuries that he caused. And I fought really hard not to tell him that I am pretty sure that someone with a wooden prosthetic arm could have produced better results, so keep your day job. But instead, I said "I just need a stress reliever." This is where I shot myself in the foot. What woman in their right mind says something like that to a man while laying in bed? I should have known better. All in all, an innocent statement. But this is where the X and Y chromosomes are vastly and retardedly different. And with that, the back massage turned into a front massage.

Me: WAIT. What are you doing?

Him: I think it's pretty obvious honey.

me: Ok, when I said I needed a stress reliever, I was thinking copious amounts of alcohol, a night out, a bubble bath...or dinner out, just you and me.

him: I thought we were past the point where I needed to buy you dinner first.

me: I am sorry, I am just so stressed and tired.

And with that, we got into a discussion about how sex IS a stress reliever for men and how most men could be vomiting, bleeding from their eyes, have lost a limb and STILL want to have sex. He could not understand at all when I explained to him that for most women, it is not about THAT EXACT MOMENT but more how the overall day played out. For any nighttime extra-curricular activities to take place the day cannot include sick children, a call from the mother in law, a call from the children's school, a 5 year old sweaty tantrum at Target, 5th grade math homework that I don't get, a messy house and a lecture about how much I just spent at Gap....none of these are aphrodisiacs to me or most normal women. And PLEASE keep all bodily noises to yourself. I don't think they are funny, and they don't make me want to rip your clothes off. After this explanation of our differences, he looked at me like I had a penis growing out of my forehead. And with that, he turned off the light and said "I'll make reservations for Friday."