The Not-Quite-Fetish I Found While Dusting

posted on 05/17/2013 by 5 Comments

 

“Stupid, effing, Southern California dryness.”

I curse the climate through gritted teeth as I dust my husband’s nightstand for the second time in a week.  The lack of humidity keeps my hair nice, but covers everything in my house with a thin layer of constant dust.  I pass the Swiffer duster over his alarm clock and knock over the President Obama bobble head that is usually kept inside the nightstand drawer.  As I pull the drawer open to toss it in, a ziploc bag catches my eye.  The pure oddness of it’s contents launch an inner dialogue that I have little control over.

What the hell is this?

It looks to be a plastic bag stuffed with dryer lint.

Yeah, I see that.  But what could he possibly be doing with…

It’s clearly some kind of fetish.

What?  That’s ridiculous… and very weird.

Is it?  We really don’t spend a lot of time with him anymore.  Maybe he’s bored.  Maybe he’s lonely…

Well, with the preschooler, the toddler, my writing and speaking engagements, his work, his part time teaching, and his pursuit of another degree… I suppose we are in a bit of a disconnect.

He probably washed all your underwear and now keeps the dryer lint so he can feel close to you.

Oh my God.

Maybe he smells it…

Oh my God.

Whoa, what if it’s not even your lint?

Oh my GOD!

I toss the bag back into the drawer of his nightstand and run into the next room to get the toddler who has just awoken crying from his nap.  As I change a diaper, I vow to ask him about the lint when he gets home.

I have to.

Maybe our marriage is in crisis…

Or maybe he is on the verge of becoming a psycho creep that lurks around public laundry mats.

Lots of people have fetishes.  I’m his wife.  He should feel safe enough to share this with me.  I can deal.  I’ll roll around in dryer lint if it will save my marriage… or his soul… or even if he just thinks it’s sexy.

I pull my toddler into my arms and walk to the kitchen to get a snack.

I can be brave and confront him about this.

I can be open minded and try my best not to sneeze when we open the bag of lint…

As I imagine myself as a linty sex kitten, my son knocks the Cheerios I was holding out of my hand and all over the floor.  My imagination runs constant in the background as we both squat and pick them up one by one, singing the “clean up” song…

and my brow furrows in mild disgust…

and my stomach quivers with nervousness…

tinged with excitement.

***

 

Turns out dryer lint is really good for starting campfires when you’re out in the woods.  My husband is very outdoorsy…

and not a psycho laundry mat lurker.  Turns out though, that I’m possibly pretty creepy.

 

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jenni chiu sig

 

 

 

 

posted in Life tagged with , , , , 5 Comments

It’s Possible That Breastfeeding Is Like Gay People Kissing On Days Of Our Lives.

posted on 11/15/2012 by 13 Comments

 

I have a confession to make:

I’m a housewife and I watch Days of our Lives.

I also have another confession to make:

Seeing two guys kiss kind of makes me uncomfortable.

 

 

My favorite daytime Soap now has two homosexual characters that are starting to make out on a regular basis.  Whenever I see it… I feel kind of weird.  It’s a little shocking… in an ice water kind of way.

I went to a performing arts college – practically half of my class was gay.  I was also a working actor for over a decade after that, and have very dear friends that are gay.  However, most of my gay friends now live on different coasts and since becoming a housewife I have been severely… underexposed.

I don’t feel weird when I see a husband kiss his wife on the sidewalk in front of my house.  I don’t feel uncomfortable when the heterosexual characters go at it on Days of Our Lives.  I think it makes me feel weird because it’s something I’m not used to.  It’s shockingly different.  My weekly viewings of Glee aren’t enough to make it still feel normal to watch.

I imagine it’s how some people feel when a woman breastfeeds in public.  People shift in their chairs…

They whisper to each other…

They slightly shake their heads…

They feel uncomfortable…

They ask a restaurant manager to make the woman leave or stop.

Breastfeeding advocates around the world encourage women to nurse in public because of the idea that the more people see it, the more normal it becomes.

It’s one of the most normal, natural things in the world, but I’ve found myself on a number of occasions huddled in my car trying to uncomfortably feed my baby.  I’ve sat on a bench with my son under a nursing cover hoping that no one would notice… then felt strangely guilty for feeling ashamed.  I’ve felt bold.  I’ve felt natural.  I’ve felt nervous.  I’ve felt dirty.

I can’t help but wonder if any of my gay friends feel that way when they kiss their partner hello or goodbye in a public place.

I don’t want you to feel that way…

and I don’t want to feel as uncomfortable as I do when I see it – my self-touted open minded and open heartedness is crumbling before me.

Gays of the world, I need your help.

I need you to kiss more in front of me…

and since you never know where I might be at any given time, just do it wherever you are when the urge strikes you… and hope that I see it.

I don’t need you to lick your partners face off – gay or straight that may make me dry heave a little…

But I need to be exposed to more simple displays of homosexual affection.  Seeing love should not make me uncomfortable…

We need a new normal.

You kiss the person you cherish when the moment calls for it.

I’ll nurse my son on a bench when he’s hungry.

Let’s make our acts of love more commonplace…

and then lets make a sandwich, put our feet up, and watch today’s episode of Days of Our Lives.

 

 

 

 

 

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posted in Life, Priceless Opinion tagged with , , , , , 13 Comments

Two Inner Monologues At A Sunday Brunch.

posted on 11/02/2012 by 5 Comments

 

Wow, look at you with the connections.

Um… yeah.  Pretty popular place.  Have you ever been here before?

No… I’ve heard it’s good.

It is.

Yeah it is.  It’s one of the most famous brunch places in the city, and if the hostess wasn’t a former co-worker of mine we’d be waiting an hour and a half outside like all those hungry suckers.  Wait – she’s heard of it.  Does that mean she’s impressed?  The way she said that, “…with the connections”.  It sounded so flat.  What did she mean by that?

He’s totally trying to impress me right now.  Do I want the Eggs Benedict or the French toast?

They have amazing white chocolate French toast.  Would you like to split it?

Sure.

And maybe get some other stuff…

Yeah.  Hash browns.  Bacon…

(Twenty minutes later.)

Wow, she sure doesn’t say much.  I don’t think I’ve ever eaten almost an entire meal without exchanging words before.  Perhaps this isn’t going well.  She seems to be enjoying the food.  She’s actually quite an impressive eater.  Oh, there see – she’s smiling at me.  That’s a good sign.  Let’s get her another mimosa.  I don’t think she’s dumb… I can see her wheels turning… I think.  Maybe she’s shy… Maybe she hates me…

Good huh?

(nodding and smiling) Mmm Hmmm.

What is she thinking? 

I’m so glad he’s comfortable with silence.  I hate having to make excruciating small talk while I’m eating.  People should really not talk at all during meals – someone almost always ends up speaking with their mouth full in an effort to fill the lull.  I also hate the sound of open mouth chewing – ew.  I guess that really makes going out to eat a bad date choice.  I wonder why so many people do it.  Maybe on a good date not much of the food gets eaten because they’re so busy chatting it up – but then what’s the point?  I should get another mimosa.

What the fuck is she thinking?

He’s got this weird vein in his forehead that is just throbbing away right now.  I wonder if he can feel it.  I think I have food in my teeth.

Excuse me.  I’m going to the restroom.

Well she sure looks good when she’s walking away.

He’s absolutely checking out my ass right now.

(five minutes later)

You’re back.  I didn’t know if you wanted more coffee or not.

(sitting down) No thanks.  I’m good.

She clearly must not be having a good time.  Should we still go to this street festival thing after brunch?  I have to.  I have to see this date through…

This is eerie.  She is eerie quiet.  This is like watching some odd winter storm – it could go very bad very quickly… or it could end up being quite beautiful.  Hmm… 

*blink blink*

Well, the food is gone and the check is paid.  We have talked about nothing and found no commonality yet.  Should I strike up some more conversation or…

We should probably get going.  There are a lot of people waiting for a table.  Festival time?

Yes!  Yes.  Festival time.

Do I pull her chair out?  Crap – she’s up.  If I walk ridiculously fast I can get the door.

Man, this place is way too crowded and noisy for me.  I gotta get out of here.  He must be overwhelmed too – he’s walking faster than I am.

(grabbing the door)  I have absolutely no idea how this date is going. 

(walking through the door)  I think I kinda like this guy.

 

 

PS – I’m not sure quite how much of this is true… but I do know that four years later we got married.

 

 

posted in Life, Memories tagged with , , , 5 Comments

I Remember…

posted on 08/10/2012 by 12 Comments

 

I remember your curly hair peeking out from your hat the first time I saw you.

I remember dancing on the street corner at 4 am.

I remember sharing dark secrets as strangers.

I remember swearing we weren’t looking for a serious relationship…

we sold everything and moved across the country together.

 

I remember our living room furnished with camping chairs.

I remember sleeping on the floor.

I remember the crate our TV sat on top of.

 

I remember making our own wedding bands…

They gave me a blowtorch.

On the inside we wrote:

A deal is a deal.

 

I remember you almost passing out at the altar.

I remember making a honeymoon baby.

 

I remember the traumatic birth of our first son.

I remember you stepping up to the plate in the aftermath.

I remember you, exhausted and shirtless, with a sleeping newborn on your chest.

 

I remember you bed ridden for weeks after a surgery.

I stroked your head.

I emptied your urine bottle.

I took such good care of you.

I held it against you.

 

I remember the tightness of your arms…

our bodies heaving with sobs…

I remember you holding me with all you had…

as I miscarried.

 

I remember thinking this whole life together was a mistake.

I remember thinking it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

 

I remember our son’s little voice screaming “DA DA”…

to a sea of graduation caps…

and you holding up your Master’s Degree…

while a baby kicked inside my belly.

 

I remember changing my mind about having our second son…

but he was already on his way out.

“I’m so proud of you.  You are amazing.  I love you so much.  You can do this.”

 

I remember hitting you with an oven mitt…

but I don’t remember what the fight was about.

 

I will remember our shaky hands…

our old, spotted hands clasped together.

I will remember our children’s children…

running circles around our sons.

 

I will remember sneaking to change the temperature on the thermostat.

I will remember you changing it back…

a gentle battle we will fight until we die.

 

I will remember growing…

sparring…

mending…

and loving.

Together.

After all…

A deal is a deal.

*****

 

- Happy Anniversary, Hot Nerd.  Nine years together – five of them not in sin.  I remember so much, yet we only enter the kindergarden of our marriage.  We continue to learn how to live better and love better.

Life has thrown us in so many directions, and our demons are not completely conquered.  Yet in the midst of it all, we’ve made an amazing family.

We will always rise to the occasion…

As long as one of us remembers to hold out their hand…

the other will most surely grab it.

 

 

 

posted in Life tagged with , , , , 12 Comments

The Last Of The Jumpyhicans.

posted on 07/13/2011 by 5 Comments

 

 

… You stay alive, Jumpy House, no matter what occurs! I will find you. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you.

posted in Life, Wordless Wednesday tagged with , , 5 Comments
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