There is a wonderful, curly red-haired spitfire lady that works at our gym. For some reason, she has taken a shining to me, and showers me with sweaty hugs whenever we meet. Her husband is a Baptist preacher to which she says, “before I was a preacher’s wife, I was a Woman!” She comes up with “Angry woman day” playlists for her spin class. She asked me if I knew what a “MILF” was yesterday. I responded that I didn’t know, and that she would be the one I would ask, if I ever needed such info.
She’s just that kind of lady.
And I L.O.V.E. her!
As I approached the top of the stairs yesterday, she grabbed me and pulled me into the spinning room and declared that she was playing my song, “Enter Sandman” by Metallica. (yeah, I did get a wristband to buy tix to a Metallica concert once. I had a change of heart before tix went on sale. Averted that potential black spot on my memory. . .)
She then proceeded to tell me why she loved me so much. “You have a dark chocolate center! You are all shiny and sweet and wonderful on the outside but there’s something a little bit nasty inside.”
I couldn’t have put it more accurately.
Husband: “Hi! When I go out of town this weekend, I’ve made arrangements to meet up with _____ (a moho).”
Me: “Great! Where are you going to meet?”
“Oh, probably a hotel.”
“Why do you worry so much?”
“Give me one reason not to worry.”
“Because I love you.”
“You’ve loved me all the other times too.”
“uh. . .”
Me: “So what if he’s hot?”
Him: “We’ll get a room”
(this morning as he leaves)
Me: “Sorry to give you such a rash about this weekend. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
Him: “Oh, I won’t.”
Can you see why I’m so in love?