Tag Archives: lesbians

Husband Meme

Distractions, Personal Bits, Queer stuff

Apologies to my single readers who sit there at their monitors with their bags of Collision Chips and Fantas while they wonder where their life went wrong as they look at blogs on the interweb and consider what to wear when they go to the next Bear bar night and oh god why can’t they find love why why por quoi???

From Gambrinous with Griffonage:

What is his name? Meesh to the family, Michel in Quebec (there’s already a Michele and a Michael in my family so he’s contracted to be contracted).

Who eats more? Me. But he eats more in bed.

Who said I love you first? Me. In his truck. I nearly puked.

Who is taller? I am when we’re standing in the tub.

Who drives most when you are together? He does. But I get bored faster. Mayblubablublabluuuu!

Who’s more sensitive?
I would say we’re equally matched. He’ll cry at movies, while I’ll cry at lottery ads.

Who does the laundry? I do. I expect a call from the police when ever he does the laundry because of his patience. He, however, folds.

Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Facing the bed from the foot, I sleep on the right hand side.

Who pays the bills? Our accounts are combined, but he does all the actual paperwork.

Who cooks more? I do. He’s a bit to meticulous when he follows recipes.

Who is more stubborn?
He is. Hands down.

Who is the first to admit they are wrong?
Me. I’d rather bask in incorrectness than fight.

Who has more siblings? I do. My four to his one.

Who wears the pants? We share a mu mu on Drunk Sundays. Clean up is a breeze.

What do you like to do together? Pretty much everything. He’s my best friend and husband. I’d not be all that interested if he’s not interested. I know that makes me sound like a creepy conservative housewife, but it’s true.

Who eats more sweets? He does, for medicinal reasons.

Guilty pleasures? Corn chips in bed.

How did you meet? Sly comments on gay.com chat. Then constant exposure due to both of us losing our 9-5 jobs.

Who asked whom out first? I asked him to come along with me to a lesbian bar outside the city. I wound up making out with another guy on the dance floor.

Who kissed first? It was mutual. In a truck. It was fun. Still is.

Who proposed? He emailed my parents for permission. He then sprung it on me in front of our campfire.

His best features and qualities? Have you seen his backside? Heaven. As for qualities: his anger, oddly enough. It reminds me not to take shit from people. And beneath that, there is a thoughtful, kind, smart person that thinks I’m pretty keen.

Forgetting Yourself

Queer stuff, Travel, You Stupid Dick

A story from our recent camping trip:

We had packed up the car on the last day of camping and said our goodbyes to the three women across from our site, offering up our remaining wood for them to use. We get into the car and start to drive away.

We almost got to the campground’s front gate when SharkBoy remembers the clothesline still hanging between some trees back at the site. How he did an inventory in his head of the car’s contents while he drove to the exit is a mystery to me. But it came to him in a flash and I had to jump out and hike back to our spot. It was quicker than trying to turn the behemoth of a car around and obeying the 3mph speed limit through the trailer park, crawling past glaring tenants who think you’re doing 4mph.

Back at the site, the women are deep in animated conversation and without comment I head straight to the trees to start untying the rope.

I’m considering using my teeth on one particular high up knot, concentrating all my will to get it to release itself and without thought, I fart.

Sometimes the only time you notice a noise is when it stops. I’m not talking about the fart, no. The lesbians had stopped talking abruptly.

Don’t turn around. Keep working that knot. Wind up the rope. Keep your eyes down. Get back to the car…