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Friday, September 24, 2010

Things my husband says...


For my blog entry today, I thought I’d talk about something completely different and by the title I’m sure you can guess what it’s about. To fully appreciate today’s blog I’ll give you a brief history. This is my second marriage and my husband’s first. I’ve got two children and he has one son from a previous relationship. We also have a granddaughter. I was thirty-four when I met Frank and he was approximately forty-three, which puts us at nine years apart. The long and short of it, we met through a mutual friend, we dated for six months, he asked me to marry him and move in at the same time, then the following summer we were hitched. Now I can hear you…you’re saying OMG! Six months! Well if you knew me on a personal level and my stormy life you’d say – ‘Wow I’m glad you took your time on this one!’ LOL Anyway, the journey has been truly wonderful thus far and I can’t voice enough praise for my husband.

Frank’s strong, kind of heart, loyal, hard working, patient and thoughtful. He’s also wavering upon the threshold of eccentric and he is extremely funny…and I mean funny. We both have seriously twisted humour…I lean towards dry, dark and very sarcastic (you don’t want to meet my daughter lol). My husband, well he’s just crazy and he’s a sex fiend to boot – YES I said sex fiend. He’s Italian and prides himself on creating awesome pasta, swears he was a warrior in a past life (300 style – I am Spartan!) and a great lover. My husband’s answer to everything is sex…

When I first met Frank, he was shy and introverted–no joking. He didn’t even give me a kiss or hold my hand until the three-month mark. My father swore he was gay and I had to admit I was beginning to wonder at one point. And when he asked me to be his wife I serious thought…I couldn’t live in another loveless relationship, I might as well become a Nun. Okay…I had no idea what the hell I was in for when I said, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’ It was like I literally flicked a switch. Something in Frank’s brain went haywire– ‘Now that I’ve got her I’m going to make up for the fifteen years I was a bachelour!’ **evil laughter and rubs hands**

I’ve been with younger men who couldn’t compete…now I’m saying things I thought would never leave my lips like – ‘I’m tired, not tonight honey.’ What’s up with that crap!? I fell down once, sprained my ankle and Frank yelled at me first asking why I did that? (men…). ‘Because I enjoy pain Frank–what do you think!’ Then when he helped me into the house, he actually said, “I know how to take away the pain…you just need lovies.” YES – OMG! What a fool I’ve been! Sex is the answer!

The other night we’re lying on the bed talking about work and how each other’s day went (this is a daily ritual) then I mentioned I was going to make pasta for dinner. Big mistake and I mean big mistake. Never ever tell an Italian man you can make better pasta than him–even if you’re joking (oh and Italians talk with their hands don’t forget, and Frank is quite animated).

Frank starts poking his own chest with a finger and proudly thunders, “What do you know about pasta?? Eh?? I know how to make pasta! My ma-ma made the best pasta in the East end!”

“I know pasta too!” I said. “I’m a good cook. And you’re just a ma-ma suck! You mother puts beans in the pasta–whoever heard of anyone putting beans in the pasta!”

‘That’s pasta vizzue!” He rolls his eyes, lifts his head from the pillow and stares at me, “Are you making fun of my mom!? No one makes fun of my mom!”

“Oh you just love to argue with me because it gives you a hard-on.”

We’re both laughing by this point, because we both know it’s true.

Then he rolls over to his side and says real soft in my ear, “I’ll cook you pasta that’s so good you’ll have an instant orgasm. You won’t be able to resist.” While he’s saying this, he pulls my hand down to his crotch, which is bulging as usual. “See!” He announces. “I got a bastone just thinking about it!” (bastone is Italian for boner – if you didn’t already guess)

All I can say is men

I’m so used to his dirty talk and groping me–or to be more accurate, him forcing me to grope him, which is constant, that it doesn’t even faze me any more. Next time I’ll tell you about the incident in the Farmer’s Market and what my husband does with vegetables every time we go grocery shopping. Food for thought, isn’t it?

Happy Yaoi Hunting!!
Blak Rayne ^_^!!


3 comments:

  1. .....MOM WTF?! YOU TELL ME TO READ IT AND I'M SCARRED!!! ~__~ ugh who wants to know about your sexual escapades????

    Lol I kid' I'm so USE to you two groping I'm not even phased anymore~ Hows that for scarring, eh?

    ODO you should write about your wonderful daughter~

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  2. **Evil laughter fills the air**
    You've given me an idea! You'll be sorry now!
    Ha ha ha ha!

    ReplyDelete
  3. you sound like Kuja from the third disc...where he's all like "I'mma trance on yo arse~"

    =`A = it can't be any scarier than THIS!? lol jokin'~

    ReplyDelete