I am tired, my feet are sore my back hurts. It has been a long day. I worked a full day plus overtime and it was busy with the pre-Christmas craziness and working short-staffed. I have to stop by at my families after work. 1husband texts me and tells me that I also need to get milk and bring home dinner. We live 3.75km from the grocery store, he has the day off, but these things are ‘my jobs’.
I am punchy. I walk into the house it is a mess, hubby has been camped out on the couch all day, the tv still on. I still have dishes, laundry, and I must go out to care for the livestock. Hubby grabs the greasy take out I got for him he is hungry hasn’t eaten all day.
I start cleaning up, might as well, I clear the dirty clothes in the dining area, the garbage left on the kitchen counters. I feed the dog. I feed the cats. I wash the dishes. I wash another load of laundry. I put away the remants of the greasy take out I brought home for him. The home made meal I left for him in the fridge remains untouched. Tomato and basil soup with cut organic veggies and dip for a starter. Spiced potatoes, dolmathes and sausage to follow also not eaten, he tells me it looked like it had mouse poop in it. We don’t have mice.
I think about getting fucking wasted. I try to keep composed.
1husband comes over to me, my mood must fill the room. He is behind me, he reaches around and squeezes my boobs, making squeaky noises while he does so. He isn’t stopping, I know what he is waiting for and he won’t stop till he gets it, so I toss my hair aside, look around giggle like a girl and give him what I hope is a dazzling smile. He stops, that is all that I wanted. He goes back to couch. He doesn’t help out, he doesn’t ask about my day. It has been three years since he asked me about my day. Well, to be honest, it may be longer, but that is as long as I have been keeping track. He never asks me how I am or how I feel. He would never drive the 3.75km on his day off to get milk. At least, that is how I see it.
I ask him about his day. He says ‘yep’. I ask him what he did. He says ‘yep, and I did that all day.’ This, I believe, is sarcasm. I know he spent the day on the couch, he knows, we both know, why bother?
I can’t help myself I retreat to the bedroom to have a virtual chat with 1lover.
1lover is a big, and very tall handsome man. He towers over me like a gentle giant. I love is big powerful arms I love his hands. But, I have always had a purely visceral attraction to big boys. He always smells amazing like cinnamon and cloves. My hands must touch him all the time; my finger tips, my lips and toes, all yearn to touch him too.
1lover is out shopping, he is driving around the city looking for just the right Christmas gifts. He spent a couple of hours volunteering at the soup kitchen, he had coffee with a good friend. Yet, he says he spent the entire day thinking of me, missing me. He asks me about my day, how I feel, what I did, what I am doing! He asks and he tells! My body warms, I feel like I am transported to a cabin, a roaring fire in field stone fireplace, curled up under a blanket together with cocoa and tea, talking about our dreams and the day; this is how 1lover moves me.
It is over too soon. I don’t know 1lover that well at all, what he does tomorrow will surprise me, probably actually amaze me.
1husband will be drinking, drunk or on the couch.
And, I’ll be working tomorrow and when I pause in the day I will be thinking that the tall man who smells like cinnamon and cloves; and drinks cocoa and tea is all too far away.