Aside

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

She paces back and forth in her bathroom in nothing but a sexy bra and panty set, heart pounding in her chest.  Just do it. She tells herself, taking a quick peek at her reflection in the mirror.  Not bad.  She adjusts her bra for the 27th time.  Just do it. She silently says again, taking a deep breath.  She walks into her bedroom, picks it up off her nightstand and holds it out in front of her at arms length.

Click.  She looks at the photo.  Ick no.  She shakes her head and ruffles her hair, pulling it over her near naked shoulder.  Blonde hair splays across her chest.   She stretches her arm out again, holding it a little bit higher than the last time.

Click.  She tilts her head.  Click.  She looks up.  Click.  She looks down.  Click.  She looks to the side.  Click.  This time straight at the camera, pouty lips.

She holds her phone close to her face  and goes through the camera roll.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.

She growls and throws her phone on her bed.  Why is this so hard?  He’s your husband.  He’s seen it ALL before. 

Deep breaths, back to the phone.  Click Click Click Click Click.

Camera roll. Sigh.  Okay, that one’s not so bad.  She bites her lip and stares at the photo for few more minutes finding every single possible flaw, anxiety billowing deep in her belly.

Ding dong…ding dong…ding dong.  She drops the phone when she hears her best friend, Kimberly’s, signature ring.  Then she laughs and picks it up answering with a chuckle.

“Hello.”

“Hey.  What are you doing?”

“Taking sexy selfies of myself, ” she says holding the phone with her shoulder as she pulls on her jeans.

Kimberly lets out a breathy laugh.  “Why?”

“To send to Huz.” She puts her arms through her shirt and pulls it over her head.

“Send it to me.”

“Dude, no way.  I can’t even look at them.  I’ve taken at least 30 pictures.  One is just okay. ”

They talk for 30 minutes about 247 different subjects, their typical daily chat that takes place every day during Kimberly’s commute home from work.

“Okay, I’m here at the daycare.  Talk to you tomorrow.  Oh, and send me that picture.  I’ll tell you if you should send it.”

“Okay, whatever.  Bye.”

She waits the 20 minutes it should take Kimberly to get home before she hits “Send” along with the message, “You better fuggin delete this.”

Nothing.

Another text.

No response.

Then she paces back and forth, stomach twisted in knots, and waits for her alleged “best friend” to respond with…anything.

She convinces herself it’s terrible and decides not to send it.

Then she hears the ding on her phone.

Kimberly text

 

She responds with a sigh of relief.  Huz leaves for the store, so she decides it’s the perfect time to send it to him.

Send. Sigh.  Done.  Wait.

Tic toc.  Tic toc.  Tic toc.

Huz comes home, says nothing.   She waits until the kids are in bed and says, “Did you get my text?”  He smiles a half smile  “Yeah.  Why did you send that?”

“Really?”

She looks at him, rolls her eyes, and walks into her room.  If he only knew.  Later he says, “I like it.”  Too little.  Too late.  Not good enough.  She grabs his phone and deletes it after already deleting it from her phone and vows to never ever take a sexy selfie again.

Remember children, “Naked selfies almost always work.”

But almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Naked Selfies: The New Little Black Dress

I met my husband back in 1998 before Social Media ruled the world…even before Bob Dole invented the internet, or was that Dan Quail?  Or maybe Obama?  Okay, okay.   Maybe the internet existed, but nobody used it…really.   Back before Twitter and Match.com, how did we snag our mates when we couldn’t text them and get an immediate response, when we couldn’t stalk their Facebook page for pictures of their exes, before they could “check in” and we could just “pop in” where we knew they were?  Well, I for one did it the old fashioned way.  I put on make-up and donned that short little black dress that showed off my legs for days (shut up I’m not short) and my 19 year old perfect ass.  And it worked.  Every.  Single. Time.  But things have changed.  Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the new little black dress:  Naked Selfies.

Her mom is very supportive.

Her mom is very supportive.

I recently learned that it’s fairly common practice for girls to send guys naked, (or half naked) selfies.  Wait, what?  Isn’t this along those lines of milk and cows and giving things up for free?  Not leaving anything to the imagination?  Right, mom would not approve.

Don’t even get me started on the demise of society through selfies.  I can go on and on about my antipathy for them.  In fact, I’m president of the club:  MAS.

But curiosity always kills the cat right?  My follow up question was, “Does this actually work?”

His response, “Naked selfies almost always work.”

He said almost:  Click here…do it!  Do it!  Do it!

Hmmmm…. So I started to ponder how this could affect my own life.  Being that I’m extremely self-centered, I asked myself:  How often do I pull out my “little black dress?”  Truth…almost never.  My daily uniform consists of yoga pants, a tank top, and sneakers…always sneakers.  I wear my hair in a pony-tail bun about 85% of the time.  Make-up gets used on weekends and when I have to volunteer at my son’s school, but most of the time, I’m simple, plain, and boring…a dun dun dun…housewife.

Back when I worked, I wore tailored business suits, pretty silk blouses, and even high heels.  My hair was always down, lipstick on, and I never left the house without accessories.  The only jewelry I ever wear now is my Ironman watch…sexy, right?  Back off, boys.

The truth is: there are girls out there sending naked selfies to guys in order to get laid.  Maybe I need to try harder.

Don’t get me wrong.  I take really good care of myself.  I work out a minimum of 3 times a week.  I eat healthy and avoid all of the junk foods, etc.  But the buck stops there.  I don’t spend a lot of time on my appearance or getting “pretty” even though behind my workout clothes and my pony tail, I’m quite sure a pretty girl still exists.

Yesterday I thought it might be fun to try an experiment.  The same dude who said naked selfies always work also said that hair is a big deal to guys, so after I dropped my daughter off at school, I decided to actually spend some time on my hair.  I got on Pinterest and found a tutorial on blow drying my hair. I know…those are out there.  I could have also gone on to learn how to apply false eyelashes, but let’s get real.  So after I showered, I spent (and I’m not exaggerating) 30 minutes blow drying my hair.  Then I “put on my face” as my mom used to say, careful to apply blush and bronzer.  I even wore lip gloss.  I chose a cute, fitted shirt and my skinny jeans, and I pranced around the house all day, wondering if my husband would notice.

This just in, he didn’t.

Finally, after the kids were comfortably tucked into bed, I said, “Hey, man, I spent 30 minutes fixing my hair for you today.”

He said, “Why?”  Then he smirked at me with his “I’m about to be an asshole” grin and said, “I fixed my hair for you, too, dude.”

I rolled my eyes and went to my bedroom where I changed from my skinny jeans to my much more comfortable pajamas and fell asleep on the couch.

I guess what I was hoping for was a spark….a little strike to a flame that often gets extinguished with the stress of everything on our plates:  sick parents, kids, work, life, etc.   I’m always looking for something, something that catches him off guard, something that makes him look twice, something so that I can, you know…get some.  Up next I guess is naked selfies.  Didn’t someone say that they “almost always work?”

Stay tuned….this could be good. Or really really bad.

Now, I’m off to find a Pinterest tutorial on the art of taking naked  sexy selfies.   Right after I blow dry my hair.

What do you do to keep the spark afire?  Are you guilty of letting it get burned out?  Do you try new things to keep the magic alive?  Anyone else want to join me in a naked selfie challenge?