Stick With Whatcha Know

(Warning to my sons: you probably don’t want to read this, unless I’m dead and you’re questioning my computer’s search engine history)

A few weeks ago my good friend Diane suggested I use my new-and-unplanned-free-time to write a book. Diane and I have been friends for years, and she is “in the business,” so when she she told me she thought I could write, and I was good enough to write a book, I felt totally complimented.

I mean, I’ve heard the same thing, “You should write book, you are funny, you have good stories, blah, blah,” from my friends and family over the years, and I love them all for saying such kind things; but they have to say those things. They are my family, and my friends-like-family. It’s like how you have to tell your daughter she is pretty; I mean, really. You can’t exactly tell your kid she is dog-butt-ugly.

So when Diane, a real-live professional told me I was good, well, her words sent me over the moon. And then she said…

You should consider writing erotica, it’s selling really well on Kindle right now. You could do it. I know you could.

“Are you kidding me? Uhmm. I’m approaching fifty, and while I have a healthy sex life, it isn’t anything I want to write about… It’s uhmm. Normal. And I write about my life. I write about my experiences. I’d have to write fake-erotica that would read like Judy Blume. Seriously Diane. I’m the person who read Fifty Shades of Grey and skipped over the sex scenes because they bored me; I’m the person who tried to read the Sleeping Beauty Trilogy and lost interest a few chapters into the first book. I can’t even READ erotica. How in the HELL do you think I could ever write it?”

Diane and I talked some more, we had a good laugh, and she encouraged me to try. And so I did. I wrote about a chapter, and then I got stuck because it was time to write a sex scene.

An erotic sex scene.

Three weeks later my erotic novel is still siting there. Untouched. I can’t write about sex. I never thought I had a filter, but apparently I do. It’s a Disney-PG-sex-filter. My fingers can’t type erotica and my mind doesn’t imagine it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried; I’ve researched all kinds of weird sexual shit… Okay, it’s not weird. I know some people really live these lives; it’s just not my life. It’s not my thing. I don’t want fifty-eleven mind blowing orgasms, while I’m hanging upside down with beads in places that would make a stripper blush. THAT is way to labor intensive for me. And I don’t even do details!

Plus, I write about my life, and I’m just not THAT creative. I happen to have a fun and funny, sitcom-style life. But erotic? *I’m laughing out loud right this second*

Okay. What do you think…

This morning I felt amorous for like five minutes. It’s Saturday morning and Hubs and I were sitting around watching TV and drinking coffee; the usual.

I put my coffee down, got up and walked over to Hubs; he was sitting on the sofa. Without saying anything I tried to sit on Hub’s lap, straddle-style. When I flung my right leg over the front of Hubs, I (lightly) knocked our mini-dachshund in the head (she is the same color as the sofa so I didn’t see her), and she whimpered and ran off. Surprised, Hubs jerked and knocked his iPhone off the arm of the sofa and as he bent down to retrieve it, his head hit my lip; which bled. But we kept going. By this time I was half on his lap, I determined I needed to straighten my left leg (around his back) because it was starting to cramp.

And then Hubs asked me WTF I was trying to do (because I was lifting my leg with my hands and choking him by pressing my right shoulder into his neck/esophagus in the process)? And I started laughing. Snort-laughing. So hard I couldn’t breathe. Then Hubs started laughing; then he told me my butt bones were digging into his thighs, so he tried to shift my weight, and he hurt his back, and he yelped in pain; just about the same time I got a hot flash (not the sexual kind) and I had to get off of him. Fast. I was on no-kidding fire.

So Hubs leaned awkwardly back on the sofa (clutching his lower back), and warned me to be careful dismounting him, but it was too late. As I flung my leg back around in front of him, I knocked his coffee off the table, and he instantly jolted upright as I kneed his jewels with my other leg.

Then Hubs hobbled to the kitchen to get coffee-clean-up supplies, and I made my way to the bathroom (slipping along the way because one of my socks was soaked with coffee) because I forgot my morning dose of bio-identical hormone cream, and I needed to wipe my newly fat and bloody lip.

Does that sound erotic to you? Yeah. I know. Me either. But it works for us.

PS. No animals were harmed in our attempt to bang this morning.

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