The other day, I was explaining how the people in my house all sleep naked. It was a moment of over-sharing, and truth be told, we are about to have another one.
You see, THEY sleep naked. I, on the other hand, always wear what my husband lovingly (but also very disparagingly) calls my “armour”. I wear pajamas. Not the sexy kind either, though I do own lots of lingerie for those “other” occasions.
No, bedtime to me means wearing pajama pants and t-shirts, or full-length (or almost full-length) nightgowns, or sometimes pajama pants, t-shirts and those almost full-length nightgowns as one ensemble, especially if it’s winter. Oh yeah, and I often wear wool socks.
My husband complains – “Oh there she goes, putting on her ‘armour’ again.” When he says this, he is inevitably rolling his eyes.
To which I reply, “What do you think I am, a sex goddess twenty-four hours a day?”
“Yeah.” He has no hesitation, which is good. It is the right response.
“I need to relax occasionally. Besides, what would you do if I was always naked?”
“Always have sex with you.” Of course he would, but then who would work, and who would make supper?
“You would seriously want to have sex all the time? That just doesn’t sound appealing to me. There needs to be ebbs and flows in life otherwise things get boring. Don’t you think that the times you don’t have it make you appreciate the times that you do?”
“No. I just want it.”
“OK, well you can’t tell me that you’d want to eat chocolate cake every single day. It would start to taste bad.”
“No it wouldn’t. That’s women’s logic. Chocolate cake would taste like chocolate cake.”
“So are you insinuating that men’s logic is better? Men’s logic would have us all playing video games, watching football, fighting in the street, and eating steak with lots of barbeque sauce and not doing anything else. Oh wait, and having sex. How could I forget that?”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” my husband answers plainly.
Moral: you can’t argue with a man.