Think Of The Most Romantic Place To Spend Your Anniversary...

Is it firmly in your mind? Can you picture it so clearly, the picture makes noise?

Did you picture a hotel lobby? And your spouse asleep upstairs? The laughing and talking you've imagined--was it from your bed, or like this, from the hotel pool?

It's the weekend of my 10th anniversary. This is a dark post to draw my dark mood---it's the wrong one to read looking for a knee-slapping joke. (that's the disclaimer)

What a happy group to post in twice in a row--perhaps that's worth maybe a boat anchor award, or a failed regulator on my next dive trip.

I've searched for other, better places to write this. I thought of  a blog, but if it's hidden from sight I may as well spend another night like so many--reading the remaining 6% of the World Wide Web I haven't found, or watching movies for which I have no lasting interest, or on opposite edges of a king bed.

if you've decided to read my posts at all you may as well accept that I enjoy the pictures that words paint. I can't sing--I tried once and the radio announcer interrupted the song and asked me to stop. I can't paint, or draw--even my stick men are embarassed. I do some creative things wth my tongue, however, including spelling her....sorry, I'm trying to focus. There, that'll satisfy any lawyers reading this--two disclaimers in the same post.

Now, for the complaining.

With rare exceptions, lovemaking is a routine affair. To be forthwright, I'd have to admit that lovemaking itself is a rare exception. So let's try this

So: With rare exceptions during the rare exceptions, the rare exception is a routine affair. That was clear, wasn't it? Read it again, you'll get it.

I'm able (at least I strive to) to write mind-bending sex--I write it because, given the chance, it's what I'd do. When I found the kind of "groups" here on EP---it was as though I was given the chance. Or at least, given the chance to have a chance. I think sex should be fun, I think we should make it fun, and I think....well, never mind. Probably the wrong section for the next things I think...

Some days ago, probably inside EP someplace, I found a  link to national holiday for men to make up for Valentine's day. Personally, I happen to enjoy Valentine's day, and in a role-reversal this year, I felt forgotten. But I liked the idea of the National Steak and BJ day, too. I'm a man, I am, and who wouldn't like that?

Partly in jest, mostly with hope, I forwarded the article to her as a more gentle introduction than telling her about it directly. She found it in her email and her response was, "You're naughty!" Not the naughty that we find here, that says, "That'll be fun. How'd it go for you?" This was the naughty that you tell your kids when they steal a cookie before dinner.

I met her at the front door as she came home, stark naked. She laughed, there was a little playing around, but, again, "You're naughty." Play time stopped long before bedtime. Lest it's all gloom, we did, both of us, really enjoy a night together sometime in the last two weeks.

I wrote a note to look like it was from our hotel with a list of their rules for guests. The rules included 1) Contact with children is limited to ONE per evening, per couple. Emergencies excepted. 2) NO talk about money, work, home, etc. 3) Clothing is to be worn in public parts of the hotel, ONLY. This includes pool, lobby, hotel grounds. Clothing is prohibited in individual guest rooms.  

The other night, again, I was naughty. Not the naughty that ends in playful spanking, more the naughty that ends in, "No, you've been grounded."

We got to our hotel with nothing to do the rest of the day. We're here for a class tomorrow morning, but we should have had an afternoon and a night...

At the restaurant tonight I asked the waitress to do something special for her since it's our 10th anniversary---how many couples in our society have 10 years? I want 11, and then 60, but I don't want to be a monk or a Catholic priest. It was a total surprise! Great! Just before we left the waitstaff came out bearing a huge bowl of icecream and chocolate and whipped cream and a blazing torch so big and so high they must have pulled a fire permit for it.. We laughed together; I caught her by surprise and she loved it. We don't eat icecream, but we ate most of that, sure that calories don't count on anniversaries---can someone verify that for me? I'd love confirmation.

She'd told me before we left home that she wasn't feeling well today, and it must be true, and I feel bad for her. Nonetheless, I feel marginalized.

I do not drink alcohol; I'm not able even to order it. Tonight, and nights like this, I want to learn. But a drink is not the salve I ache for...she's upstairs, asleep.

But, hey! It's my anniversary; I hardly notice it. It doesn't make my chest ache. If you were in the hotel lobby chair across from me--and tricked me into talking of it, I'd lie as convincingly as I just have.

I've noticed it rains a litte bit inside this hotel. That's strange.



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Mar 13, 2010