Hey, you. Can we cuddle tonight?
I pressed send, scurried off to the bathroom and returned moments later to find my phone vibrating like crazy across the dining room table.
Eighteen new text messages in two minutes. All from Hal.
Verbatim they read:
Halston cell: And by cuddle you mean...Halston cell: ???Halston cell: shave my back?Halston cell: Eat ICE CREAM?Halston cell: Play naked monopoly?Halston cell: Pick out a new rug?Halston cell: Fornicate?Halston cell: Do a breast lump shower test and a testicular lump shower test?Halston cell: Brush each other's teeth?Halston cell: Hold a seance?Halston cell: Get WASTED?Halston cell: let the kids make dinner with sharp knives and hot ovens?Halston cell: Make an amateur porn, upload and see what kind of traffic we can get?Halston cell: Go to blockbuster and rent Muppets take Manhattan?Halston cell: Try to put on a fashion show wearing our pants as shirts and vice versa?Halston cell: Make frozen coffee bars?Halston cell: Pack everything?Halston cell: And drive to Canada?
I didn't respond at the time. Too busy was I changing my pants after pissing them. And so? I respond, here:
Dear, Hal. Yes, darling. Yes to all* of the above.
*Except for the one with the sharp knives and hot ovens. And the one re: xxx amateur action. (That's more of a last resort thing, I think.) And going to Canada is a major commitment we'll have to discuss at our next family meeting. Shaving your back can be arranged but probably not if you want to fornicate afterwards (especially in my current fragile state) and the breast exam, though noble, is something I'd rather do alone. Hm. Maybe we should start with ice cream and go from there?***
Happy Fifth Anniversary, Hal.I couldn't possibly love you more than I do, you wonderfulcrazy man...
dress my heart.