I want to make it clear at the start, I was not ignoring my wife. In fact, I was very much focused on her. I was paying attention, complete and utter attention. I was paying more attention than anyone has paid attention in the history of attention. That, my friends, is a lot of attention.

I just had no idea what she was saying.

It wasn't my fault though. I am a complete innocent here. I am a victim of my environment, a poor rube that apparently cannot fight off the basic instinct of men everywhere. If anything, it was entrapment and therefore the blame really lies with society, stupid society, that has conditioned me to be the way that I am. Shame on you, send me money and we'll call it even.

Dinner was going smooth and I like it when things go smooth. Tonight was an easy dinner night, Manwhiches. This is code for: I forgot to take out the chicken so you get crap dinner night. It was supposed to be a stuffed chicken breast with feta cheese and spinach resting in a basil/tomato sauce. Very good. However, it's hard to stuff a frozen chicken breast. Breast, breast, breast. See, I love it, which the post will shortly prove.

So it was a very nice dinner. Hossmom got home at the exact time that I was putting dinner on the table. The house was cleaned, the floors freshly vacuumed and everything had a hit of mint in the air from my cleaning. The kids were seated perfectly, not throwing anything at anyone. Not even the dogs were farting, growling, drooling or having any other fluid coming from their bodies that seem to leak disgusting at every moment possible. I was putting the rest of the warm food on the table and invited Hossmom to sit and enjoy her family. She takes off her top outer shirt to get more comfortable and sits down wearing a camisole (that's what she says she calls it.) She starts serving the kids their food as I sit down, with my lovely family.

Then I stop. I see them. I am looking at them. The sisters, the girls, column A and column B, leftie and right, Starsky and Hutch. Without Hossmom's top shirt on, there is a lot of cleavage at the table. The amount was, to say, abundant. And I found myself transported back to my teenage self. Boobs. Right there. Where? Over there, man! Be cool, be cool. Don't stare. You are staring.

I couldn't help it. I was hypnotized, mesmerized, locked in gaze at the most beautiful thing ever put on this world. And this thought popped in my head, the greatest thought ever had by man. I get to see boobs everyday. Everyday, at some point, I get to see boobs. Seriously, how awesome is that?It's guaranteed that at some time during the day, I get to look. I have had this thought many times in my married life but every time it's like a new revelation. And I keep coming back to it, like the holy grail of married life. Boobs.

I know I will probably take some flack here about objectifying women. Go ahead. I don't care, say whatever you want. Grill me, insult me. Call me an immature little man who doesn't appreciate what I have. And my response? Boobs. I get to see boobs everyday. And I do very much appreciate my wife and tonight, I am appreciating a very specific part of her.

After a few minutes Hossmom notices that I have not responded to any of her questions nor have I made a sound. It's probably a safe bet to say that I probably haven't moved at all either. She looks over at me and says "Hoss!" Well, she doesn't call me Hoss. She calls me by my name, at least I think she does. Honestly I'm not sure, I just know that she is trying to snap me out of my trance. She is going to have to try harder as the girls had my complete attention.

"Up here, honey!" she says and this does it. She asks me if I was even listening to her. I'm too old and too married to stutter about this anymore.

"Nope." I say.

"Really? You have no idea what I was talking about?"

It was about work, I'm pretty sure it was. Hossmom works in the digital advertising world and loves it. She loves to talk about it. She loves everything about it. And tonight, I can assume that she was talking about it.

"Um, where you talking about websites?" It's a good bet.

"Which one?"

"Um, don't know."

Hossmom is not dumb nor is she a young teenager. She knows a leering man when she sees one.
"Boobs.tits.com, right?" Hossmom says.

This is why I love my wife, she is way funnier than I am.

1 comment:

  1. I wrote this. No I didn't, but I should've. I've had exactly this experience, several times. Exactly.
    I am now following your blog. Thank you.