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?