Congenitally incapable of not going where I shouldn’t, I clicked on a few links. Three hours later, my cheeks hurt from laughing out loud at the visuals in my head, as I imagined Hubs’ responses, and I’d completely forgotten what I originally sat down to research. But whatever it was, this was way better.
I decided to share some of the best suggestions with you because, well, that’s the generous kind of person I am. Who knows? Maybe I can save a marriage or two. What can’t be resolved by a teenage style make-out session in the family SUV? You’re welcome.
1. Send him on a “Love Hunt.” Similar to a treasure hunt, but he must drive all over town, asking storeowners if they’re hiding something for him from his wife. Suggestions were the liquor store for his favorite beverage; the florist for their limited-edition “You’re My Hot Stuff” bouquet; and Safeway for a half-dozen “I Heart my Husband” balloons.
Hubs hates to run errands, and although I could probably sell him on the liquor store, I’m reasonably certain, after 15 years together, that flowers and balloons wouldn’t get him where I wanted him to go.
2. Sex up the bathtub. Light a couple dozen candles, draw a deep bubble bath, and pour the champagne. Get into the tub and call him with, “Babe, can you bring me a towel?” The theory is that he’ll take one look at you lounging naked and bubbly in the tub, backlit by the soft glow of the candlelight, and be diving in to join you before the water cools.
The one time I tried something similar (two candles, wine, and no bubbles), Hubs dashed down the hall with a towel, tossed it through the open bathroom door, with nary a glance, yelling “Gonzaga is up by 12!!” as he ran back to the living room to watch the game.
3. Take personal photos of your man so everyone can see what a stud he is. Suggestions included cowboy hat and boots, pajamas, briefs or boxers, and of course, nekkid.
My brain just can’t formulate an appropriate way to ask Hubs if I can photograph him in his birthday suit, wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and boots, so I can show everybody in my book club what a hunka-hunk I married.
4. Kidnap him. Walk in, unannounced, to his workplace, and hold a toy gun on him while you handcuff his wrists, and take him away for “secret interrogation.”
Oh. My. God.
Any visual of me walking onto Hubs’ job site and slapping handcuffs on him while carting him away for an obvious afternoon of motel room boogie ends with him being totally mortified, while the scene is embellished and replayed for weeks at every construction site in town. I’m not sure that making your man the laughingstock of his industry for the next year is the way to his…well, you know.
5. Share his favorite sport by initiating sex with him on the football field, the soccer field, or in the gym. Because nothing turns a man on like having his name in the local paper for public nudity and indecency after getting caught having sex in a public stadium by the high school marching band. All 42 members.
6. Give him you as a present. Cover yourself with sticky bows and let him take them off one by one.
Before we get started, who puts the bows on any area I can’t reach? I scrolled my speed dial list and couldn’t find a single person I’d be comfortable calling to ask if they would come over and slap red bows on my naked behind. As for Hubs peeling them off? Possibly the world’s worst Brazilian.
7. Send him to work with a balloon bouquet. Fill his car with balloons that have tiny “I love you” notes inside, and leave a pin with a note that says he has to pop all the balloons before he can get into his car.
Maybe I’m getting old, but this would just piss me off. Trying to get out the door to work and finding my car full of cutesy teenage-appropriate balloons that I had to pop and then clean up before I went to work would not be foreplay.
8. Take a walk in the rain, wearing nothing but your raincoat and rain boots.
Are you high??
Walking in the rain is one of those things that sounds more romantic than it really is. And the mental image of me, standing in the rain, shivering, with hair plastered to my head and water running down my face, flashing Hubs in nothing but rubber boots and 58-year-old boobs would pretty much guarantee never getting laid again.
9. Be Jane and Tarzan. Him in a loincloth and you in a leopard print bikini. Feed him by hand from a bowl of nuts, fruits, and berries while jungle drums play on your iPod.
Few things leave me speechless.
This might have worked in my 20s. But Midlife Jane, still trying to work the leopard thong, with body parts having migrated visibly southward and butt jiggling in time to the jungle drums, as I snuggle up to Hubs with a handful of berries, is more likely to send him screaming for an eye wash station.
At this point, I decided that the best way to find out what would fire Hubs up would be to ask him. “That’s easy,” he grinned, “Greet me at the door. Naked. Holding a beer and a sandwich.”
Notwithstanding the fact that, at 58, naked is not my best presentation, I can do that. What the hell. As long as it doesn’t involve balloons.