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The Secret to Getting Some is Doing the Laundry. (Yep, it's that easy.)

Four loads of laundry sat waiting for me on the living room couch. Already washed, already dried, yet someone needed to fold them. And that person would be me.

At this point in the evening I was exhausted and completely overwhelmed. We'd been going nonstop for the last couple weeks -- work, more work, school projects, doctor appointments, surgery, a puking cat, a car that leaks oil, the orthodontist, taxes, rehearsals, performances --- not to mention trying to keep up on the everyday things, like eating, showering, laundry, dishes, and making sure teeth got brushed before bedtime.

I wanted to cry. My back hurt. My head hurt. I just wanted to fall into bed and sleep for days..... but these clothes weren't going to fold themselves and if I waited too long I'd be forced to iron. (Who am I kidding? Everyone knows I'd just toss them back in the wash for a do-over.)

I picked up the first of three million trillion stupid articles of clothing.

"Oh. You're home!" In walked Big V.


"I thought I heard you, I was just watching this really good episode of CSI in the bedroom."

Jerk, I thought. You could have folded at least two of these loads while watching TV. I hope your neck gets a crick in it from watching TV in bed. I kept folding.

"So..... are you coming to bed soon?"

"Not until all these clothes are folded."

"Oh. Well, uh, you know.... you've been gone a lot lately and it's, uh, been... uh, awhile... you know."

I kept folding.

He sat down on the chair opposite me.

"So, when you're done folding.... do you think.... then.... uh..... we could.... uh...."

What is it about guys? It used to be they had to work at it, you know. Buy a plethora of fruity alcoholic drinks and dance for a couple hours, at the very least. Or massage our feet, our back. Now it's just another item on a long list of things To Do. I'm almost 40. You know what turns me on? Coming home to a clean house. Having the litter box already emptied and the dishes put away and laundry folded. Lightening my load - that turns me on!

"Yes, V. When I get done folding the mountain of clothes that is piled up before me, then I promise to take a few moments to evaluate whether or not I have enough energy to entertain you."

.... and then he sat and stared at me while I proceeded to fold clothes .....

Now, I don't know about you, but it took every ounce of energy not to kick him in his teeth. Which I totally could have because remember, he was sitting down and I was still standing. I wouldn't have even needed to stretch or anything.

Cripes! Think of the money you're saving now that you're no longer plying me with drinks! The Wooing Factor is at an all-time low: you don't even have to get dressed up. No more picking me up at a specified time - you don't even have to open a door! Scrub the bathroom, wipe down the kitchen counters and I'm tearing your clothes off - it really is that simple!

I decided to come at it from a different angle:

"Hey, when you were younger, and you had to cut the lawn before you went to your friend's house to play, would you have rather just been left alone to cut the lawn, have people sit and stare at you while you were cutting the lawn, or have people help you cut the lawn so you could get done faster?"

He stared up at me. "I never had to cut the lawn. My dad did it."

grrrr.... Come on, guys! That picture of the man vacuuming labeled 'Women's Porn' is actually not that far off the mark at all. Try it! It really does works! When I see you making a concerted effort to help me out and take some of the burden off my back, you get "rewarded." I realize you might not think mopping the kitchen floor is a priority, but it's hard to feel sexy when my foot keeps getting stuck in strawberry jam. To me, a clean, sparkling floor is the equivalent of slipping on a brand new silk dress. A clean house is sexy.  

I folded a few more articles of clothing.

"Alright," I tried again. "Let's say you were at basketball practice and you got in trouble for something and the coach made you run laps. That would suck, right?"

"Well, yeah." He picked up the cat and started petting it.

"Well, let's say that all the other people on your team just sat and stared at you while you were running. Lap after lap.... they just sat there....  and stared.... at you.... doing all that work.... by yourself....."


"Oh. You're talking about the laundry, aren't you?"


And to my amazement Big V stood up and started folding with me!

Then, "so... when we're finished with this, we're gonna - you know...."


Rebecca said…
Ah, foreplay..."So, ya wanna?"

I should tell my husband that he'd be considered a porn superstar according to the pic that you gave as an example. He does most of the house work. ;)
Heather Bush said…
I read the title and knew exactly what you were talking about! The Hubs has no job right now, he is home all day long - my house is a friggin' mess. On the weekends, I attempt to clean and he gets all weepy because, "you just keep pushing me away with all of these chores, why don't you want to spend time with me?"

Seriously? Seriously!?!?
Tina, said…
LOL, last night at my house it was. "You know, it's easier if you put my underwear in the dresser draw for me after you fold it then to leave it here on the kitchen table. I have to walk to the kitchen with out pants to get my underwear every morning. It's been three days now. And didn't you say you were going to bathe the dogs this week? Because they stink. You could give them a bath while I play my video game for the next three hours."
Chiconky said…
I swear to God, sometimes it's like you're in my head! I took a required "pre-marriage class," where we learned that C likes bacon and we agreed that a microwave was a necessity. Could've saved ten stressful years by saying, "Fold laundry, get sex." Though now it's better, since he's a stay-at-home. Someone asked me if he felt imasculated and all I could think was, "With all the action he's getting, I don't think he's ever felt more masculated." I love that Big V sat and waited. That part cracked me up!
I disagree. The secret to getting some cannot possibly be doing laundry. I do laundry at least once a week. And the last time I got some was ... let's not talk about it. Or maybe I'm doing laundry wrong? Please advise.
Becca said…

The other day, the horrible horrible Tuesday when the kids were total animals all day and I spent a really big amount of time sobbing in my car? Ryan came home and said "I've been thinking about you all day." And *something* in his tone indicated that his *thought* was not "I bet she's really stressed out. I should bring home a fancy candy bar and some magazines, then send her to bed early while I care for the children!" Um, no. Sorry.
Getrealmommy said…
Ha! Ha! Ha! Girl, you crack me up. Sounds like your husband really has a way with words. Bless his horny heart.

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