I’m lying on the floor and listening to ‘I Can’t Wait For The Weekend To Begin‘ by Michael Grey but I’m in a bit of nervous kafuffle which is messing with my desire to dance because it’s been pointed out to me that the great idea I had for a Mum’s Lounge article is only really great if you follow ‘great’ with ‘pile of shit’. Here’s how I got to this point –
After writing ’10 Ways To Bring The Christmas Spirit To Date Night’ I ran to Reservoir Mum, holding back laughter as I started to read point one.
‘Okay, so… we go for a romantic drive – with or without kids on this one – and check out all the pretty Christmas lights in peoples’ front-yards and houses, playing Christmas Carols and singing and…. get this,’ I say, ready to release my laughter bubble as soon as I hear hers. ‘To start building the tension for later date night shenanigans, we touch the inside of each other’s thighs whenever we see a plastic Santa…’
Reservoir Mum’s shrug and frown bruises part of my soul.
‘All right then, point two. We play some couple-focussed Christmas music while we prepare dinner and eat together – This Christmas by Harry Connick Jr., I’ll Be Home For Christmas by Bing Crosby, Last Christmas by The Glee Cast… I thought including Last Christmas by The Glee Cast was pretty funny…’
Reservoir Mum looks to the ceiling briefly and then says, ‘Nope, not funny.’
Darkness starts to descend. My mood shifts in a way that feels permanent. I decide to skip to point five because that’s when thing begins to get saucy. Sex is funny. She’ll be certain to laugh at this one.
‘Talk dirty Christmas-style,’ I say. ‘This is the example I came up with…
Wife: Well look who’s sneaking in here while Santa’s charging the Reindeer. Who’s a naughty little Elf.
Husband (breathlessly): I am Mrs Santa.
Wife : You think you can just have your way with me because it’s December 25th?
Husband: Yes Mrs Santa.”
When I look up from the page I see that RM is smiling and, for a moment, the darkness lifts.
‘It’s just not funny,’ she says, with a chuckle.
Oh my god. She’s laughing at me, not with me. And what’s even worse? Despite her great effort to suppress the laughter – she knows it will hurt my feelings – she is unable stop it escaping in a muffled, spluttering way. My shame is deep and I run from the living room, all the way down the hall, arms pinned to my sides like a five-year-old.
An amount of time passes as I writhe on the floor of the study in emotional pain. When the agony lessens I roll on to my back, pull my iPhone out of my back pocket and try to drag myself back with some 90’s dance tunes.
I put ‘I Can’t Wait For The Weekend To Begin’ on repeat because our date night is on the weekend. I don’t really care about the article anymore, I’m just desperate to surprise RM with a new trick and win back her respect.
Even though the desire to dance remains smothered, the ideas to take Christmas to date night begin to come thick and fast. I allow them to find their full expression in my mind, without censorship. A few seem to have real merit.
I could paint a certain part of my anatomy green and red and wear nothing but a tight white t-shirt with ‘Jingle Bells’ written on the front in permanent black marker. RM might like that.
I could suggest we try doggy-style but pretend we’re reindeers and call it reindeer-style. We could have reindeer porn-names like Rude-olph and Donger and Prickson.
The ideas cycle through until finally I gasp and sit up. It’s sexy dress-up time! This weekend, after our usual build up, I will leap into the bedroom wearing something Christmasy and win back RM’s lust and adoration.
I’m on my feet and dancing again – finally – ruminating over costume ideas. I could be a reindeer and wear some antlers and some reins, even have a bit in my mouth. I could be Santa’s ‘Little Helper’, decked out in green lycra with a belt made of yellow tassels…
After I’ve danced myself back to a positive state of mind I decide the two best options are to dress as Santa or Mrs Clause but the ability to make a choice between those two is beyond me.
So, I am putting the decision over to the Mum’s Lounge readers. Here is a visual to help you decide.