Friday, April 4, 2014
D is for Door
Ladies, I have to tell you, it's pretty sweet having a back door man.
When your husband has another one of his headaches and he hasn't shaved his legs since summer solstice; when it's that time of the month and he's ragging about the correlation between your hair dryer and the electricity bill; when he's asking you if his work pants make him look fat and you have to say, honey, it's time to meet either Jenny Craig or Omar the Tentmaker and he's bawling and his eyes are all puffy and ugly, and you can't help but roll yours 'cause men are just so darned sensitive – that's when you really appreciate your back door man.
Mine's a redhead. Oh yeah. Hairy from top to toe, just the way I like 'em. A big guy, strong, but not in a smelly way. He doesn't coat himself with frilly fragrance, he smells the way a guy should smell, masculine, dusty, musky like goat with a hint of beef and a top note of kitty litter.
He comes to me every night, creeping up the stairs when my husband is drowsy and almost asleep. He's a ninja, like Kung Fu Panda ninja, like Fred Flintstone twinkle-toeing down the bowling lane, except he doesn't make that high-pitched piano noise that Fred's toes are famous for. He's a stealth bomber, a break-in artist, a thief in the night, and he comes to my bed so quietly that I don't even know he's there. Until I turn over and there he is, watching me in the darkness, his hairy nakedness soft in the gleam from a neighbourhood streetlight.
My husband knows he's there, but he doesn't complain. The back door man fills a void in my life that my husband can't, and so the three of us lie there, every night in our bed, always in the same order: Dave is closest to the door, I'm in the middle, and beside me is Dodge, who could sleep anywhere in the house but believes it's his absolute right to share one full-third of our king-size bed. He comes and goes throughout the night, but I rarely hear him. Always, though, I fall asleep to the sound of his purring and I wake up with my face coated in cat hair.
He's my back door man, ladies, and I think every hot blooded woman should have one.