Monday, March 9, 2009

Bathing, Porn and then Some

You always see these movies or television shows with girls taking bubble baths with lit candles, reading books with their hair up in that perfect jaunty way where the curls sorta fall down in little damp tendrils that sort of seductively stick to their neck and shoulders.

Recreating this scene in real life is hard.

Especially when you're tired. And awkward. And your neck is all in knots and is the main reason why you're planning on sitting in a hot bath anyways.

I got naked and realized that the tub was gross. There is this strange brown film eminating from the soap dish that is built into the tile. Apparently Dove White turns to Shit Brown when left out crusting down the side of the tub. I ran the hot water, sprinkled some cleaner into the tub and got down on my hands and knees to scrub my fingers raw.

There is nothing more exciting then working up a hot sweat to sit in a hot tub. I somehow didn't feel like I was getting clean in anyway.

I sunk into the water, every muscle was tight and pulled inwards. I stared into space for a bit, my body bouyant in the water.

And once again I am easily mislead by television and movies.

It is nearly impossible to multitask in a tub full of suds and look hot.

My body floats to the surface so its hard to soak the pieces of me that need to be soaked to ease the tension. To get my neck in, I need to submerge and the water fills my ears and freaks me out. To get my left shoulder in, I need to turn to the side a little and the right part of me sticks up in the air and gets cold.

All of it is a chore. Where is the relaxing? Where is peace? Where is the calm I set out to have? Why does lavendar bath salts make me smell like someone's Aunt. You know which one. The one with sweatshirts that have horses airbrushed on them. Horses with rhinestones.

And if by some chance the dr. would come by, he would lean in to kiss me, then scrunch up his face and ask why I smelled like somone named Fannie.

I sat up in the tub disgruntled and sad.

I reached over and grabbed the hot toddy I made myself. Tea, lemon and brandy. Mostly brandy. I swallowed gulp after gulp.

The Brandy was actually left over from 4 years ago when D. and I were still dating. We had gone to the grocery store to get hot chocolate mix and he talked me into the cheap $6.99 Brandy instead of the $14.00 Bailey's.

"Look," he said, pointing to the lable on the bottle. "It's Very Special."

And so we bought it because I'd let him make most of the decisions...and I was a special kind of stupid.

We drank spiked hot cocoas and watched Billy Bob Thornton be an asshole in Bad Santa.

Actually it was Badder Santa. Whatever that meant. Looking at the spine of the DVD case in the video place I thought he had chosen a porn and I was shocked to be taking this next step in our dating. "The Watching Porn Together" step. Its a step I've skipped over with...everyone.

The only person I'd ever watched porn with was my old roommate Carleen. And it was gay porn. So it doesn't count.

What was funny was that it was local porn. When we borrowed a movie from my friend Sma, there were 2 DVD's in the case. We popped in Fuck Pumpers 2000 and giggled with glee recognizing the different places in the background we recognized.

"Look!" I exclaimed. "He's giving him a blow job behind the counter at HOT COOKIE!!"

"I'm never eating at Hot Cookie again."

1 comment:

Alicia said...

Watching porn together is not all it's cracked up to be. Mostly because if you try to have sex after, you keep thinking back to the people in the movie having sex. And that kinda kills it.

And I understand your bathtime stress. I need my own personal pool to really relax in. I wonder if you can get those installed in your house?