Yesterday hubby and I had an interesting conversation, after which he wrote what is todays post. The title he gave to his version of this story is STRING. I hope you enjoy reading something from his perspective — just for a little change — I will be back for the next post.
It was my day off and I had come back to bed to snuggle with Betty Anne. When I commented on how much I liked some of her particular curves, she responded by saying that she didn’t understand what men found so pleasurable in them. My reply was that there’s no need to understand, just accept that as a man, I find pleasure in things that she as a woman can’t understand, just the same way that she finds pleasure in things that make no sense to me. Unsatisfied with the philisophical nature of the discussion, (which by the way was meant to be romantic) Betty Anne wanted a practical example.
I quickly remembered our vacation this summer. One day, we left our cottage to do some sightseeing. Now, the sights I was under the impression we were looking for were things like sandy beaches, rocky shores and beautiful landscapes. But on our journey, we found a little village. It should have taken no time to drive through. But there in the middle of Main Street, was this quaint little yarn store. There was no point in suggesting that this was not one of natures wonders. Betty Anne was drawn by the lure of what might be hidden inside this little shop with such a cute name — The Purple Sock. So there I sat, parked at the curb, sweating in the sun, as my wife , with great pleasure disappeared behind the door. But, I as a loving husband expect these diversions.
However, my story does not end there. In that yarn shop my wife learned of another, larger, more elaborate yarn store in Barrie. And though Barrie was not actually in the direction towards home, somehow Google Map was altered to include it in our route. We had had a wonderful vacation, and though a great deal of Betty Anne’s attention was given to blogging or crocheting, we loved being together. But now, looking forward to getting home, I found myself lost in the city of Barrie trying to find a yarn store. After what must have been an hour of driving around, we found the store. By this time I needed to use a bathroom so I went into the store with Betty Anne to find one. It was as I was coming out that it struck me. We had driven out of our way so that my wife could spend time in a store filled with string balls. There they were all around me stacked in piles, thrown in bins and placed in cubby holes all around the walls, in all kinds of colors and textures, but there was no doubt about it, they were all just string balls! That’s it? How did I get tangled up in this? And there, gazing, smiling, reaching, holding and longing to take these balls of string home is Betty Anne, the women I love. Am I supposed to understand why these string balls give her pleasure? It’s not going to happen. I just know that they make her happy and I like it when she is happy. And she is not alone. All over the world through blogging she connects with others who also have this strange attraction. So, what’s a guy to do?
Now that you have read hubby’s story — I have a few things to add. I am sure that I told him that part of our sightseeing that day included stopping at The Purple Sock — it was the reason we drove in the direction that we did — I guess he just doesn’t remember. And driving through Barrie to get home was supposed to be a quicker way to get home than the back roads we usually take — how was I supposed to know that we would get lost or that there would be an accident on the highway that blocked up traffic? The moral of todays story is that husbands and wives don’t have to understand everything about each other in order to love each other — because after 30 years of marriage there are still things we don’t understand, but, we do love each other very much : )