Last night we were settling in for the night when my husband said that his ‘modi’ hurt. That is the word for head in Korean. I have lost my Korean vocabulary but for a few words, including modi. The moment he said it, though, he sighed and asked, ‘Why would I say that?’ I laughed, a little triumphantly, and said that I had worn a groove out of him into which only I can fit. I had ruined him for anyone else! I quickly acquiesced that I have a similar groove in me for him.
He said that it is more like several grooves, and he weaved his fingers into mine. He said that pulling apart would be so very painful with all those points of contact. I quickly agreed.
Very sweet, huh? I should have just left it at that, or reacted with a more romantic and amorous move. But you need to understand something. I am too often the unarmed victim in the ‘game’ of family flatulence. The have me at their mercy and I am shamefully outnumbered. I am regularly left writhing under a blanket after an attack. Living like that can make one a little crazy. So, you see, when I have something to offer on this front, I absolutely must act! It is a matter of self-respect?
I am not heartless, however. I was able to recognize how tender the moment was, so in keeping with it I…I….Well, he had just said that we should stay together forever, so I…I…. I offered to ‘toot’ on it. *Blush*
He was properly appalled. He asked if I thought men actually offered to ‘toot’ on things. “Hey, Dude, let’s toot on it!” “But Dude! We tooted on it, man!” I thought he was offended by my terminology. I laughed so hard as I realized it was the deal itself that caused the affront. I guess there is a reason why I am usually the unarmed, squealing girl in this battle.