Married Sex

Oh. So you thought that once you got married, you met your husband at the door and he tore your clothes off and you two made hot passionate love, right? Me either.

But I did think I would get a lot of action, which was cool.

Once you get married, it just doesn't quite work like that. In fact, it's the two of you working that causes the problem. Getting up in the morning, going to school, coming home, studying, that's me. Or I'm getting up in the morning, going to work, coming home at night, studying. Josh on the other hand gets up at 4:30 in the morning, goes to work, works all day long, gets home at 3 (at the earliest) stays up until he can't take it anymore, then goes to bed.

You can see where sex falls at on our list.

Don't think that we are some sexless individuals who live together. We do have sex. We just don't have sex as much as you have sex (assuming you aren't married).

See, once you get married, there are other things that take priority. For instance, when I come into work and there are dishes piled in the sink, I know that they need to be put in the dishwasher (check). Or I may come in and there be a GIANT pile of clothes that needs to be washed (...still working on that one). Either way, I just don't feel sexy. Then there are the days when I come in with messy hair, no makeup, and looking like a hot disaster, because I had to wake up early after not sleeping the night before. Those days really don't make me want to have sex. I mean, I want to have sex when I'm looking HOT and fantastic, or when I smell delightful, or even both (and that's a good night, ladies and gents).

Josh? He just wants to do it most days. He doesn't care if I stink. He doesn't care if he stinks. But then there are days for him that he just can't stay awake. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to live with another person if I had to get up at 4:30 a.m, let alone have sex with them.

When we do have sex, though. That's always nice. I like having sex. I really like having lazy sex.

Lazy sex is when you both just kind of lay there and move the only parts that have to be moved in order for sex to actually work. It's kind of like cold pizza. No. It's kind of like canned Spaghetti O's-- it gets the job done, but eh, you've had better.

Not like better with another person, DON'T START RUMORS ON ME. I mean better sex period. You know that sex that you always remember (preferably from your spouse)? That kind. It's great.

Now I've lost my train of thought.

One time Josh woke me up at 5:00 in the morning to have sex.

....That's another story for another day though.

My point of all of this rambling is that once you get married, YOU DON'T JUST BANG ALL THE TIME.
So don't get it twisted. And if you do get twisted, get married, because it's the right thing to do.

This is some sweet hot love.

Literally, my ear was on fire after this.

A married conversation

"Hey babe!"
"What?"
"Will you come here?"
"No."
"Babe?"
"Yes?"
"Will you come here?"
"No."
"Hey babe!"
"What?"
"Will you do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Will you come here?"
"No."
......
"Babe!
"..."
"Baby!"
"..."
"Lauren!"
"..."
"Hey, can you come here?"
This is the 10-minute conversation between Josh and me. I still have no idea what he wants and I'm in no hurry to find out. He tried to get frisky with me a few minutes ago and I farted on him.
Still can't wait to get married?

I Set Fire to the...Stove

I don't cook. I don't like to cook. I don't want to learn how to cook better. I only cook when I have to or I feel like I am failing in other parts of my marriage (like cleaning house, which I also hate).

I cooked one night because I felt like I needed to. Josh always cooks and he usually always cleans. He also works full-time. With this on my brain, I felt like a terrible wife and in order to compensate, I cooked. I didn't cook a glorious meal. I cooked a Velveeta Cheesy Skillet (which is really good when it isn't charred). I boiled the chicken on medium heat until it fell apart when I poked it with the fork. I followed the instructions exactly when I made the rest of it. I measured the ingredients as accurately as possible. This was going to be the best Cheesy Skillet ever. It was going to win awards.

I put the chicken and the other ingredients together in the pan and was letting it all cook (I don't remember what the other ingredients were). Everything was cooking smoothly, barely bubbling. There was no grease in the pan, just chicken, water, and the other ingredients. I noticed that the garbage can was about to overflow so I grabbed the bag out, tied it up, and asked Josh to take it to the dumpster. I got a new bag, put it in the garbage can, and turned back to the FLAMING STOVE.

"FIRE! FIRE! JOSH! FIRE! JOSH!" I screamed while staring into the yellow flames that were coming up from under the stove eye.

Josh was standing in the living room watching the television. He turned around, calmly walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and put water in it, poured it on the fire nonchalantly, and walked away. He extinguished the fire without saying two words. Then he took the trash out.

Now in the seconds that Josh was calmly saving our home, I was standing back doing nothing except for staring at my mess. "This is not good. This is so not good." I said. "Oh this is bad, Josh." I kept saying.

What was his reply to me? "Why didn't you put it out?"

BECAUSE I WAS TERRIFIED.

The food was done cooking shortly after that. Apparently when there is a fire beneath something, it really hurries up the cooking process. It turned out to taste pretty good. Well, it turned out to be edible. I have since been very cautious when stepping foot near the stove. I stayed scared of the stove for a good while after the incident, and I'm still not totally comfortable being alone with it. But when I feel like I am being a terrible wife, I turn those knobs and start boiling water.

Water can't catch on fire...right?

Josh is Grounded.

I don't cook. I mean, I try to cook, but I'm just not very good at it. Since the time I set the oven on fire, I've been kind of scared of the crackling and popping sounds that food makes when it's reaching a certain point of heat.

Josh is a wonderful cook. He can look at a recipe and cook it and it be delicious. If he didn't cook, we would be broke all the time or we would be starving all the time. I'm very thankful that he has a good relationship with the kitchen and all the appliances that live there.

But all good things must come to an end. If not an end, a temporary hard halt. Josh is currently grounded from the stove for the rest of the week. Why would I do such a thing, am I crazy? Yes. Yes, I am. I realize that we may be out of money for a bit, since we will be eating mostly drive-thru and take out this week. I also realize that I may have to brave the stove myself, which terrifies me. Lastly, I realize that worst case scenario, we starve to death. The three possibilities are all quite scary, but I feel they are necessary evils.

Sunday morning, I woke up the mouth-watering smell of cinnamon rolls. I rolled out of our big, fluffy bed and  dragged myself into the kitchen. With a beautiful light gleaming around them in all of their iced goodness was freshly baked cinnamon rolls sitting on top of the oven, just waiting to be in my belly. I've never been so happy in my life. I ate two of them and contemplated eating a third, but I needed to get ready for church and I needed my pants to fit. So I left those heavenly rolls and went on my way.

Josh and I got ready, went to church, spent time with my family, Josh played golf, etc, etc. We didn't get home until late Sunday night. The next morning I get up and those cinnamon rolls are still sitting on top of the oven, looking wonderful. I reached over to grab one and felt something hot on my arm.

I look at the dials on the stove (is that what they're even called?) and noticed that the oven was set to 350 degrees--just as it was the previous morning. THE OVEN HAD BEEN ON FOR OVER 24 HOURS. I immediately called Josh and told him what he did.

"You're not allowed to touch the stove....for the rest of the week." I said.
"Why?" He asked.
"The oven has been on since yesterday morning!" I yelled. "Not only could we have burned our house down, but we could have burned an ENTIRE APARTMENT COMPLEX down." I said.
"How do you plan on eating for the rest of the week?" He asked.
"......." I was at a loss for words. I hadn't thought that far into the conversation. I have still not given him an answer as to how we are going to feed our bodies for the rest of the week, but we had take-out last night and left overs tonight. I feel good that I have kept us alive for this long.

When I got off the phone with him, the newspaper headline flashed in my mind:
NEWLYWEDS BURN DOWN COMPLEX

I cringed at the thought. That's just what this little town needs, formerly known as Lauren Thornton burning down an apartment complex. I didn't even cook!

We were very, very lucky and now my obsession with the stove being off is in full swing.

Oh. Great.

The Honeymooners

The honeymoon was very impromptu to say the least. Daddy surprised us on our wedding day by telling us he had paid for a cabin in the Desoto Falls State Park. We left for this place as soon as we could.

I say this place because it was in Mentone, Alabama, which is somewhere neither of us had never heard of. The drive was an estimated 2-3 hours and we had nothing packed. We hurried back to the house, grabbed some clothes and our toothbrushes, and headed into the unknown.

Seriously, it was the unknown, because we had NO CLUE where we were going.

I thought we were going to get a divorce before we even arrived at the park.

I made Josh drive my car and he drove way too fast. He was going around these curves and up this mountain while I was screaming, "SLOW DOWN!"

His reply to me was, "If the speed limit is 65, I can go around the curves at 65. If I couldn't they would lower the speed limit."

"If you want to wreck your truck, that's fine, but YOU WILL NOT WRECK MY CAR." I said.

So here I am, sitting in the passenger's seat of my own car, with my veil still on, and a look of sheer panic on my face. We made it to the little town and Josh's number one priority was to find a gas station that sold beer. He found one, but they didn't sell his kind of beer (it all taste like pee to me). We asked the lady at the register how to find the park and her directions were as followed:

"Take the road on the left and when it forks off, go up the mountain."

Well alright then.

We took the road on the left, but it was pitch black so we couldn't see where the fork was and in as long as it took me to inhale, we were in Leather Face's driveway. Okay, it wasn't the real Leather Face, but I know they had some chain saws hidden somewhere on that property and I'm guessing someone knew how to use them.

We backed up and tried the way the lady told us again. After trying this three times, we finally see a faded out, TINY sign that pointed us in the right direction. Up the mountain we went and Josh found a gas station that sold his kind of beer. We were making progress at last.

We found the place, got checked in, and tried to find the cabin. We knew it was the last cabin on the road and I tried telling Josh which road to take, but he didn't listen because I only talk to hear my beautiful voice. After him yelling at me when he realized he was wrong, we took the right road and found our cabin.

Now it gets juicy...

This place is totally dark and when we open the screen door, it goes "SSSSSCCCCCRRRREEEEEEAAAAACCCCCHHHHHHH." I knew right then that we were going to get chopped up by some crazed maniac in the woods.

Crazed lunatic aside, I put on my new lingerie, walked out of the bedroom and stood in front of him with my hands locked together in front of me and said, "...so...wanna like, go smoke or something?"

I won't give you the rest of the details.

The next morning, I wake up and this amazing man is laying beside me. We smile at each other and realize we are husband and wife, and this is how it will be for the rest of our lives. It was so beautiful and sweet. We walked out to the screened in porch and the sun was shining through the woods in front of the cabin. That was beautiful too, and so peaceful.

When I decided to take a shower was when the peace ended. I didn't bring shampoo. I didn't bring soap. I didn't bring conditioner. But that was okay! The cabin had some! No. The cabin had a bottle of shampoo the size of my finger, and after using a can of hairspray on my hair the day before, I needed every drop of it. After using this stuff, my hair looked like I had stuck my finger into an electric socket. There would be no pictures today. To top it off, Josh comes in and says, "Hey babe, your window is broken."

I laugh because that stuff doesn't happen on your honeymoon. "You're kidding." I said. "Stop kidding." I said.

He wasn't kidding. "I tried to get it back up, but it just falls down," he said.

The motor on my window had gone out and it was supposed to rain. Instead of freaking out, which is what I did, Josh tried to fix it. Unfortunately that didn't work, because neither of us knew anything about a broken window motor. All I knew was that we needed something to wedge it shut. We rolled up a semester's worth of paper and tried to make a wedge. When that didn't hold, I grabbed my handy-dandy flip flop and rolled it into a wedge.

It got us back home and we lived happily ever....well...we're definitely happy.

Here's my life

So here is my life: I am 22, I have been married for a whopping 5 months (which automatically makes me an expert), I am a senior in college, and I work part-time. I have had a miscarriage, which has consumed every life decision since July 13, 2012 and I hope to have another baby soon. Yes, soon.

This blog was started because there is no way I am the only person in the world who has realized after about the 3rd day of marriage that it wasn't all candles and smell good stuff. Also, I want to inform people, young girls specifically, that marriage is HARD WORK. It is getting up and going to work, coming home exhausted, and there being dishes piled up in the sink.

Marriage is: Waking up beside the person of your dreams and being so in love with him...until he opens his mouth and a whole night full of bacteria makes its way to your nostrils, but you kiss him anyway.

Marriage is: Eating out of a can at the last of the month, because all of your money is saved for bills and you can't afford to go out to eat or buy groceries.

Marriage is: Rubbing lotion, cream, whatever kind of salve you can find on his giant hives because he is itching to death and it hurts you to look at them.

Marriage is: Him holding your hair and taking care of your completely non-deserving self, because you stupidly drank too much and you can't stop vomiting banana flavored vodka and jello shots.

Marriage is: Not all fun and games, but it is one of the best experiences in life.

 Follow me on my journey as I learn more about married life and what comes with it!