Domestic Goddess

P- I love your tattoo… but it shouldn’t say Blogoddess…. it should say Domestic Goddess.

… … … Sigh… he’s kind of right.

I’ll make a full confession, domestic junkie style.

I am happiest when I’m knee deep in domestic details… it’s the very definition of bliss.

Nowhere to be, new laundry detergent AND fabric softener? Be still my heart.

A new dish scrubby and bleach cleanser?  OMg… unleash me with my cleaning products… I’m that crazy smiling girl on the Clorox commercial. I love freshly mopped floors… crisp clean sheets…and the faint scent of chlorine hanging in the air. Ahhh.

It’s precisely why I love having a boyfriend… and why I’m happiest with a husband.

I love to cook him into submission. I lay awake at night thinking of things I can feed him when I’m not the number one thing on the menu. Linguine in white clam sauce, Chili verde, chicken pot pie, husband soup….

I play to win in a cherry print apron and heels… pearls in my ears and around my neck… reviving the 50’s housewife, one freshly baked cookie at a time.

I’m a pastry princess… a knitting junkie…and down right delicious, sexually.

And I’m torn.

Perfectpants is hot on my tail… determined to convince me and pulling out all the stops. Dedicated to reassuring me. Happy to discuss it openly. Offering anything I need to believe him.

Still having a moment of pause… still worried. Still pretty confident in my assumptions.

But…. spending the day with him. Taking him to meet my friends. Just plain enjoying his company.

I’m a glutton for punishment, aren’t I?

Coming home at midnight with sheets that have dirt in them from my all day planting adventure… and I can’t stand dirty sheets. Pulling them off to his complaints.

Going to grab my favorite Egyptian cotton sheets… ahhh domesticity… 1000 thread count makes me happier than diamonds.

He takes them out of my hands and starts laughing at me when I go to pull them back.

P- Stop- let me do it.

J- No… I’m kinda bitchy about sheets, I like them perfectly fitted. I’m a little ridiculous about it.

p- Shhh… Let me.

So standing barefoot in panties and a pink tank top… I watched the man make my bed better than I generally spend the time to do.

I’ve never been so turned on in my whole life.

A domestic God.

He can even cook. Holy shit… no wonder I have such a crush…

We’re a lot alike. We think alike about a lot of things. He’s protective… and I’m relieved to hear words out loud that I’ve been fantasizing about hearing my whole life.

He never says no, to anything, ever. Anything I ask him to do, he does without question. He doesn’t ask me why, he asks me when.

He’s never not able, and he is my sexual match. Fighting food poisoning? A fever? The flu? A hangover? It doesn’t matter. He’s unstoppable.

He’d give me the world, just to make me happy, and I’m tempted to ignore my concerns…

Because he loves me so well I forget about how classically bad my judgement is.

P- You’re amazing. You bake cookies in a dress. You grow vegetables. You could be in movies….. You want babies? I’ll give you anything you want- including babies.

Oh.

Oy.

Eek.

Whoa.

No.

But I maybe love that it’s an option… as I’m never happy about limits.

He certainly has found my Achilles…

and I am damn tempted to ignore the voice in the back of my mind, telling me to be careful.

One thought on “Domestic Goddess

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