The older I get… And, errrr, the longer I stay married, the more I’ve come to appreciate being sexually harassed. It’s kinda become an unexpected, but oh-so-welcome, form of flirting to me… Some much, much needed attention to keep this ole’ bat’s self-confidence alive.
All this to say, I’m being harassed… finally! Only this time, I need it to STOP!
You see, there’s this mother from one of the programs I take my Beasts to… And well, I made the mistake of giving her my cell number, and have since been harassed with a slew of “let’s get together” (smiley face) texts.
Here’s the thing, this Mother Of A Harasser is 20. Twenty!!! B-Jeezuz! Me? I’ve lived long enough to have shit myself in public. I’ve reached the stage where I’m asking myself what this whole “aging like a fine wine” bullshit is really all about… ‘Cause so far I’m aging like a f*cking carton of milk! And I’m not only talking about my face! My boobs and vagina aren’t aging all that well either! When your boobs are longer than your shirt, and your vagina longer than your shorts, you know you’ve LONG passed the expiry date!
And there’s more, as if the whole 20-year-old thing isn’t bad enough… She still lives at home with Mommy and Daddy, and probably has a poster of Nickelback on her wall. So seriously, what could Miss Teen Whoopsy Baby and I possibly have to talk about at our little “get together”? How back in the Stone Ages when I was her age, a teen pregnancy meant a hop, skip and a jump to the nearest “clinic”, NOT unrealistic dreams of a reality teen pregnancy show? OMG! Do you hear me? I swear, sometimes I open my mouth and my mother sneaks out!
But anyways, the point of this post is this… I was telling Big J about how I’m being stalked by a 20 year old Mother Of A Harasser, and how I need his advice on how best to ditch her, gently!
So naturally, being the attentive, caring husband he is, Big J showed his genuine concern about the whole situation by asking me if she was hot?
“Ummm… She has a good body, I guess”, I replied.
To which he replied, “Good enough. I’ll just cover her face with a picture of you… my beautiful wife. (OK. Now I want you to repeat this last sentence out loud. Only this time, I want you to really emphasize the words “beautiful wife” while trying unsuccessfully to give a seductive look… Followed by a wink! Ewww, right?)
I looked at him in utter disbelief that this is his idea of verbal foreplay.
“What? It’s a compliment, Honey! It shows that I don’t want to think about anyone else but you. Only you, babe.” And he winked, again!
You’re probably thinking: Big J, you Jack Ass! Inside voice… Use your Inside voice, Man!
Me? It wasn’t so much his assy comment that surprised me. Rather his misguided self-confidence of automatically assuming that a 20 year old with a good body would want him! That he’d be the one having to cover her face…
I told him so much.
He responds by singing “I got the moves like Jagger”. Ugh! And while my first instinct was to quote Jagger, ‘I can’t get no… Satisfaction!’ I refrained. Thing is, I guess he did have a point. I mean, I am the one who promised to spend the rest of my sex life with him. And I am the one who got knocked up in a nano-second… 3 times over!
So there you have it. It’s Big J and Red Whino 4 eva’! So while he might fantasize about 20-year-old bodies topped with his wife’s milk-carton face. And I might fantasize about trading in his aging ass for a younger, firmer version, for now we’ll both just have to hope somebody throws some good ole’ sexual harassment our way every now and then. ‘Cause even though Big J thinks he’s Mr. Don Juan who got da’ moves like Jagger… he better not sexually “Her-Ass” anyone – or anything- other than MY Ass!