So The Hub and I are appliance shopping. On his birthday, a fact that I somehow have to mention to every appliance salesperson that we meet and who happens, quite oddly, to be a divorced woman somewhere in my general age bracket, give or take.
With the Divorcee SalesLadies we discuss The Hub's desire to meet my (rather) finicky needs.
Note: Simmer down, everyone. I am referring to my appliance needs, obviously.
Additional Note: Okay, fine. It may not be that obvious.
The SalesLadies ask How long have you have been married? and How have you made your relationship work for so long? and How did you grow together instead of apart? So, naturally I find myself explaining my Trophy Wife status and the whatnot.
Note: I try not to include the whatnot in the conversation but I am pretty sure that the term 'Sugar Daddy' comes up and I am not referring to candy, no.
The SalesLadies are wistful. The SalesLadies are jealous. The SalesLadies are eyeing The Hub and wondering Where have all the good men gone?
And, one of the SalesLadies adds, Look at him. He's over fifty and he's not even fat and ...
Wait for it ...wait for it ...
He doesn't even have man boobs.
Yup.
And he's all mine, Folks.
Heck, yes!
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3 comments:
Must be in the family genetics...his younger brother doesn't have any "man boobs" either at 45 yrs old and 18 yrs of marriage. I'm feeling kinda lucky..Hugs from your loving sister-in-law! :)
Must be in the family genetics...his younger brother doesn't have any "man boobs" either at 45 yrs old and 18 yrs of marriage. I'm feeling kinda lucky..Hugs from your loving sister-in-law! :)
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