Things My Husband Says

After much procrastination, then a flurry of activity in the beginning of last week, Sexy Husband and I got our wedding invitations this weekend! They are super cute, and totally custom, and I am thrilled. I’m sure that, if youve been paying attention, you know that we’re a little quirky, and not exactly the type to have a ‘traditional’ wedding. It’s not going to be an outrageous affair, just a true reflection of who we are and the love that we share. These invitations are perfect for that wedding. The wording is modern, they’re super simple, they include the information for both our website and our online RSVP, and they are adorable. So happy!

Now I just have to address them. Sigh.

I’m back in the parents’ house this week, on a last-minute house-sitting adventure. I’m not going to lie, even up to the point when I got here yesterday, I really did not want to do it. Last week was really hard, and the thought (and reality) of packing my things, hauling myself to (and missing) my ride, and spending a week alone with the zoo did not make anything easier.

What I failed to take into account was how severely I had been needing some quiet. While it’s true that there are huge chunks of my day when I can avoid interacting with other people, I never feel like I’m alone, or in my own space. Even when they’re gone, the housemates are always present, and I’m always in their space. This is the ongoing problem for me when living with other people: I don’t ever feel like I have control over my space. I was particularly, painfully reminded of this at 3 am Saturday, when our really long and difficult week ended with us arguing on the sidewalk, because of the 20 people in the house. Fun times, let me tell you.

One of the major differences between the Sexy Husband and I is that I tend to be introverted, and he is a serious extrovert. If you ask him, he might tell you that he just fakes it, but it’s truly invigorating for him to spend all night in a crowd. I enjoy it, but it takes a lot of my energy, even at those times when it feels energizing. I love the energy that life gives him, and I look forward to getting some of that back for myself, as we build our life together.

So, once again, here I am, in the arms of my family, even as their arms are soaking in some Vitamin D down south. I feel so much better already. I look forward to when I can feel this way without going halfway across the state from SH.

And confidential to SH: I have a surprise for you. You’re going to be very happy about it. It’s not in my pants.

The Sexy Husband and I had a very full, very exciting weekend, which caused me to forget to blog.

What was the big excitement? We saw our wedding venue! We had both been there before, but it had been about 10 years since I’d been there, and my parents hadn’t seen it at all. Sweet Jeebus!

This decision has been a really big thing for us. For different reasons, each of us felt that it was unlikely that we’d marry, and despite the fact that everyone we ever meet tells us how good we are together, the whole wedding thing seems weird. This isn’t to say that I ever have any doubt that he is the man I intend to spend my life with; that’s not the thing that’s weird.

Dudes: we’re having a wedding! With our families, and vows, and walking down an aisle (kind of, but whatever). This is a real thing! Holy crap!

One of the best things about housewifing is that I don’t have to get up and run out of the house in the morning. This means that, if we actually heed the alarm, I get some adorable time in the morning with Sexy Husband. While this does frequently amount to not much more than humpstarting, it does occasionally mean serious adorableness. This week I was treated to a dramatic reenactment of this, with a suggestion that he was going to spend all day using that voice. As I wore his hoodie to run my errands that day, I couldn’t help thinking, “you’re the man your lady could smell like!”

This morning the adorableness began with the always-entertaining coffee in bed. Coffee in bed is one of my favorite ways to transition into the day (right after humpstarting); it makes the day seem kinder, even when it’s a gross Seattle February day like today. While I am slow to get out of bed in the morning, even with my cup of coffee, Sexy Husband is not. Once he’s awake, he can’t go less that 55 mph, or he’ll explode! Seriously, the man does not stop moving, and let’s not even get into the things that go on inside his head (nothing bad, just frenetic). So, this morning, while I savored my coffee, I was treated to a bedside naked workout. There are some people that I would like to taunt with the fact that this is not the first time, but that seems redundant. They are, after all, the same ones who are (inexplicably?) jealous of my immeasurably charmed life.

So, big developments this week in the Sexy/Trophy household. Actually, the household is the development; the long-distance love will soon be at an end, replaced by living in sin. More accurately, we’ll be living in awkward, cramped quarters: four adults, two dogs, two bedrooms, one bathroom. But whatever! Cohabitation, hurray!

I have, for the most part, really enjoyed my time in my parents’ basement these last few months. I needed some space to breathe and clear my head, and my family is really excellent for that. As I’m embarking on this adventure of married life, it’s been really good for me to spend some time with the folks whose marriage has been my best example: built of love and shared desires, maintained by cooperation, patience, humor, and thinly-veiled innuendo (ok, more often it’s making out in the kitchen, but you see my point). I know they’re glad see me leave the basement, and I’m glad to go, but I have been very lucky to be there.

So, on to the next stage: house-wifing in the house crowded apartment of my Sexy Husband. Today we talked about it, and he said, “it’ll be nice not to have to worry about getting home to walk the dog. She’s going to like having you here.”
I said, “I’m all about walking the dog. It’s going to be my primary housewife objective: make the dog love me more.”
“It would also be okay with me if you made me sandwiches.”
“Of course I’ll make you sandwiches. Sandwiches like you’ve never seen!”
“That’s the plan! I’ll make the money, you make the sandwiches.”*
“Yeah!”

*I should probably write a longer disclaimer post, but in short: no, this isn’t our long-term plan.

This post is a little belated, but I think it’s better late than never.

Back before Christmas, someone came to this blog via the search term “longdistance christmas message for husband.” Another hit came from “sexy things to say to my husband.” First of all, I’d like to say, OMG! Second, I have a two-in-one solution solution for you:

Sexting for Grownups.

Now, in the age of Tiger Woods and Rhianna and Kwame Kilpatrick and basically every Teen Disney starlet, of course I recommend that you use your discretion when following this advice. Remember that we live in the digital age, and nothing goes away. Nobody wants to see their private parts on Judge Judy. But I think we can all agree that the brain is the biggest erogenous zone, and I, along with Sexy Husband, am a huge advocate of flirting within your established relationship. (And everywhere. Keep your skills sharp!).

Obviously, the things that fuel the fire between a Trophy Wife and a Sexy Husband are not necessarily the things that fuel your fire. But that’s the beauty of the world, isn’t it? I could tell you something specific to say to your husband that might be ‘sexy,’ but he’s your husband, not mine. You know how best to flirt with him, and I encourage you to do so!

I spent a fantastic weekend with Sexy Husband, doing a lot of nothing, and spending a surprising amount of time with his housemates. His housemates are a married couple somewhere in the same age range as we are, a waitress and a dog-wrangler/metal band singer. They’re very nice people, and I have a severely awkward relationship with them. It began the first day I hung out with them (on our second date), when she thought I called her a drunk (what I meant to say was that she was drunk, not a drunk). Then I hurt his feelings by not saying hi to him and letting myself into their (unlocked) house. I am not intentionally a jerk, but it happens. Of course, I didn’t realize I had offended them, because I’m also sometimes oblivious, until Sexy Husband pointed it out to me. Another reason I am lucky to have him. So I made them an apology pie (peach blueberry, mmm), which a drunken metal kid declared was “better than sex!” Yeah!

So, fast-forward several months of continued awkwardness to present day. Friday night we nearly closed down a bar after seeing the Pixies. (so good!) I drank a number of Manhattans, made him change the way we were walking home because it was making me sea-sick, then declared that we should have nachos and disappeared into the bathroom. When I reappeared, there were magically nachos (again, love that man), and as we were devouring them the housemates came home. After some happy drunken ramblings, she declared that she wanted pizza, over her husband’s grumblings. “I don’t care, Trophy Wife will go with me!” And so I did, and heard the first of two instructions about married life. As we’re standing at the counter and she’s chatting with the poor guys serving pizza to drunks at 2:30 AM, she turns to me and says, “You should get Sexy Husband something. I know he said he doesn’t want any, but the thing about husbands is that sometimes you just have to do things even though they say they don’t want them.” So I got two pieces of pizza, we walked the half-block back to the house, narrated by her husbands continued complaining about the trip (yes, he complained about walking half a block with us and stood outside smoking). After complaining about being made to make me nachos, he did manage to bite my finger eating the much-maligned pizza.

The second important instruction about married life came when I got home, and was discussing Thanksgiving with my mom. My parents are stepping way out of their box, and we’re all having Thanksgiving at SH’s mom’s house. There are so many issues about this, but none of them need addressed here. The important thing is that neither SH’s mom nor his step-dad really eat sugar, and so I’m responsible for desserts made with real sugar. Hello, pie! I have yet to skip making apple pie at Thanksgiving, and I’m not about to start now. I assumed I would make pumpkin, as my parents both like it. So the last question was, what kind of pie does Sexy Husband like?* Turns out he wants sweet potato, and pecan. I hate pecans. There are almost no food items that I really actively dislike, and pecans are pretty high on the list. So, I decide to switch sweet potato pie for the pumpkin, and tell my mom that I’m not making pecan, because in addition to hating pecans on their own merits, I think pecan pie is gross. for a moment, it seemed like she thought that was fine, beyond asking me whether I’d told him that she makes great pecan pie (which I did not. She does). But then: “This is your first Thanksgiving together! He said he wants pecan, you should make it. He loves you.” Yes, as in, “don’t you love him enough to make stupid pecan pie?’ And yeah, I do love him enough to make him stupid pecan pie, and I will. Stupid pecans.

* Yes, I’m marrying a man whose taste in pie I do not know. Scandal!