He makes me laugh… (mini pooh)
David makes me laugh at least once a day. Could be at bedtime, as he’s doing a pseudo striptease, and, upon getting to his socks, he spins them like helicopter propellers.
Might be me laugh-groaning at his terrible puns. At this point in our relationship, the number of terrible puns that drop from his lips is easily in the six digits.
This morning, I am lounging on the couch in my night-sweat nightshirt (a garment I have to don so that I don’t soak through the fucking bed), reading one of my favourite Loretta Chase books. Steve the cat lies upon the ottoman, deliberately ignoring me as I beg him to snuggle. I reach my left leg over so that I can scritch Steve’s neck with my toes – my panty-clad crotch on display for the world at large.
From his chair in the corner, David waggles his eyebrows. “Panties,” he says in a Muppet voice – a cross between Pepe and Rolf the Dog.
I laugh. “This is not a come-on. Just trying to reach the cat. But I do hope that when you’re in your 90s, you’ll still be this excited to see my panties.”
Without missing a beat he replies. “I’ll be wearing those panties, baby.” And then he winks.
Roger Rabbit ain’t got nothing on my husband.