Midlife Seduction: Misses With The Mrs.

“You have to know that an older man cannot hang from a chandelier.”

–Dr. Ruth

“It’s a great way to save water,” said my husband. It was, and is, his not so subtle way of saying he’d love it if I’d take a shower with him. And yet, somewhere along the way, the sexiness of lathering up together has lost its sizzle. Its ooh la la. Its naughtiness. Once again, experience has taken the joy out of midlife seduction.

What starts in the brain as a romantic escapade quickly takes a turn into something…less. For example, our upstairs shower stall is rather small. That could and would be interesting if our body parts were still young and flexible. But, they are not. If my husband is already in the shower, and I try to enter, one of us gets blasted in the face with water from the shower head while the other has to become “Gumby-ized” to flex around the tiny, slippery, built-in bench.

With a game spirit and lusty thoughts, we adjust. Sort of. One of us starts slathering the other’s back and inevitably drops the soap. There’s no room to bend over to retrieve it, so there goes that fantasy.

Then, while we’re trying to figure out what comes next, a blob of suds hits an eye. The simple act of shrieking and rubbing the offended orb causes a sharp elbow to land in the other’s midsection. As sexy as this sounds, it is not.

Oh! Did I mention all this commotion produces something akin to a wet, naked, River Dance?
 

As we are bobbing up and down trying to avoid the bar of soap on the floor, rubbing the suds more completely into the eye, and tenderly wincing at the cracked rib, one of us bumps the water lever. Suddenly what was a warm and pleasant flow of water becomes pure scalding heat. It’s as though molten lava has replaced our well water. The person getting the shower spray on his/or her back arches with a primal scream, but not in a good way.

So yeah, upon reflection, I’m not giddy about taking a wink, wink, shower with my lover.

Oh, by the way, this is how his suggestion played out last Sunday

Wet, but not so wild

Husband: Why don’t you join me in the shower?

Me: Um, noooooo. But thanks for asking.

He gets in the shower and shampoos his lush hair. I think, Oh what the heck. Ribs heal. I pull off my nightgown and sloooowly open the shower door. This is going to be great.

Husband, who can’t even see me because his head is so lathered he looks like a Caucasian Don King. “Hey! Shut the freak’n door! It’s getting cold in here!”

I slooooowly close the door, back away, and put on my nightgown. Learning the ancient rites of the midlife shower dance?  The best part of my day.