When lady magazines run out of ways to thrill your man with an unexpected prostate massage, they print articles about “keeping the love alive” (hint: don’t surprise anyone with a finger up the ass, and testicles don’t like being yanked on – in fact, just stop getting sex tips from Cosmo altogether). It’s important, they say, for couples to engage in playful, romantic games to maintain a level of excitement in the relationship. When things get stale, a pair of sexy dice will get your stereotypical motor going, or maybe some saucy role playing. If those don’t do it for you, you can try sexy coupons or naked Twister or any of this stuff, which is totally sexy for people who live in sitcoms from 1982. Keep it fresh. Renew that spark. Put on your robe and wizard hat.
Ed and I are not immune to the need for spark (although I feel it more keenly than he, as I insist upon an exciting life of fireworks and illegal organ trade), but as our romantic games with 20-sided dice usually end in jail time, we’ve invented a new sexy pastime:
We hide the lint.
That isn’t some sort of sexy cool euphemism like “hiding the salami” or “shifting into second” or “going to Timmy’s for a large
double-double”; we actually hide lint from the dryer.
I know what you’re thinking – “oh god that’s so hot” – but let me explain:
Ed’s bathroom is next to the laundry, and has the nearest garbage can. When I put clothing in the dryer, I clean the lint trap first and toss it in his garbage. Thing is, lint doesn’t weight very much. When I throw it, it never makes it to the bin and ends up everywhere but – the floor, the counter, on the toilet, in the shower. It’s not a big deal, but each time it happened, Ed would comment on it to the point where I started missing the garbage can on purpose: placing the lint in the center of the toilet seat, balled up on the hot water tap, floating serenely in a full sink. Ed would find it and go “ARGH!” and I would giggle and life was good.
Then Ed started playing along, and it became a contest to surprise the other person .. with a ball of dryer lint. To date, the lint has been hidden in:
- A coat pocket
- A shoe
- The front door handle
- Bed, under the covers
- A mouse
- A six-pack of Diet Coke in the fridge
- Sock drawer
- My purse
- An umbrella
.. and so on and so forth. It’s so dumb, but it makes me laugh SO HARD; even more so now that Ed does it too. And that, my friends, is romance: not flowers or candle-lit dinners or reluctant cunnilingus or Hallmark chocolate, but pure simple ridiculous good times.
May the laughter (and enthusiastic cunnilingus) never end.
Gotta go. It’s my turn to hide the lint.