That Old, Lame Joke… I Experienced The Return Of The Hallway F***

July 13, 2012

That Old, Lame Joke… I Experienced The Return Of The Hallway F***

We all know some version of the joke… when you first get together you have Hall Sex, if you pass each other in the hall, you get frisky.
This “declines” to Bedroom Sex, where you only have your encounters in the bedroom.

The joke concludes with the cycling back to Hall Sex, where if you brush against one another in the hall you say “fuck you”…

And nearly everyone chuckles because if this is NOT you, you know some couple who is in the second hallway phase.

My husband and I have a weirdly wonderful relationship, in that we have remained devoted to one another consistently for the 12 years we have been married (plus a couple of years of living in sin before that).

When we were first together, we were more than just Hallway people.  We did “it” in places most people will never even go to at all, let alone be intimate!  I will not detail our various locations and frequencies.  Suffice it to say, if I had had any check list of “locations I want to make love” they would have been all checked off, and then some.

Sadly, I have spoken to you before of our lack of tangible marital bliss.  How the cycle of depression has kept us from even touching one another.

We had gone through the “Bedroom” stage.

I had held on to the fact that we were devoted to each other.

We were different from most people.

I was clinging so tightly to my thought that we were different from most people!!

We all like to believe that we are different from most people.

But there is a reason that most people are called most people.

Because most of us are like them.

I got home from work late today.  Not exceedingly late, just only enough to set schedules slightly askew.  Which is, in its own way, worse than being hours late.

Do we want dinner?  Did you eat?  I’m a little too tired and bitchy to make food, so if you already ate I would rather not put forth the effort.

Yeah, I missed That Show which I never actually watch but you do and tell me about While It Is On so go ahead and give me a play-by-play of it, I’ll let a moth inside in hopes of distracting you.

Are you hungry?  Fuck.  I’ll make you something if you will SAY you are hungry.  Or else go to bed.  Fuck.  Can’t you eat Hormel canned foods?  Yes, those Do Too count as eating.  There are children in Africa who have no can openers or microwaves or some such you know!

Oh, you had your Work Friend over today?  Fuck.  The house is horrid you know?  Oh… you just showed him the pond and gave him fruit.  Okay.  I’m glad you have work friends.  Yeah, our frog rocks.  I think I text people about it…

I’m going to go get a yogurt and granola thing since I haven’t eaten today, in the process, I am sure I will encounter an avalanche of bottles… Wow!  I didn’t…

Dude, that frog is Awesome!!!

Yes, I will do laundry, but I am in no mood to sew a button right now.  Do I really have to?  I Will if I Must.  But I would really rather not if you have a shirt to wear tomorrow?

Then I went to the bathroom.  And I was returning to the living room at the same time that my husband had decided that his bladder needed to be emptied.

And we had that annoying moment of dancing around each other in the hallway.

He’s annoyed with the state of the house and the lack of dinner and his missing button.  I’m annoyed with the button and myself and work and children in Africa.

I’m wearing a tank top, so my moist from heat and frustration, bare, hasn’t exercised in five days shoulder brushes against his.  His shirtless, broad, manly shoulder.

Fuck

And at this point of frustration I wasn’t even thinking about my fervent belief that “we” were so different.

I was just thinking “fuck” and how we need to get out of the way of each other, and possibly get another bathroom.

And then he just stood there.  His broad, shirtless manly self standing blocking the narrow hall.

Fuck

And then he kissed me.

And kissed me again.

And then he said “we don’t kiss often enough lately, and I really love kissing you” and kissed me again.

There in the narrow part of the hall where the furnace and the washing machine exchange notes, my husband kissed me like we were teenagers sneaking away from a foot ball game.

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