As I slipped into bed last night and put my arm around Kristin, she immediately sat upright and exclaimed that I smelled as if I had been with another woman. Her tone was light and not condemning, which was fortunate. "You smell kind of fru-fru," she tells me.
I hadn't been with another woman, but I did switch deoderants to Degree for Men and apparently the Cool Rush scent the marketers came up with wasn't quite as manly as they had expected. Or perhaps this was exactly the rush they were referring to -- the one gotten from trying to defend yourself against such costly accusations. I took a whiff from my underarm and Kristin was right, I did smell kind of fru-fru. What the hell!?
"Honey, I would have cheated on you today, but it was Opening Day of baseball season and I was busy watching nearly 12 hours of ballgames. And, besides, if I was with another woman today, do you think I would have had time to sweep and mop the floors and dust the furniture and make sausage lasagne for dinner?"
She knew that would have been impossible and we were both laughing now. But I was still smarting from being told I smell like a woman. Payback time.
"Oh, wait, there was that quickie I had in aisle 3 of the grocery store. Did you know ricotta cheese can make for a decent lubricant in a pinch?"
That got me an elbow to the ribs. She then quickly slid to the far end of the bed and mumbled something about zapping me with a paralysis gun so I couldn't follow her. This then led to various bumblings of the word paralysis and other similar-sounding words, which somehow led to me trying to recite the Pythagorean Theorem. For some reason, she then asked if I knew the Quadratic Equation.
"No, I made a decision to forget it the moment it was first shown to me, kind of like my Spanish lessons." Good thing I'll be going to a Latin American country next week.
Hot, sweaty, dork-sex immediately ensued.