There is no shortage of cringe-worthy moments in my life.
There was the time I was at a park with my parents and I turned to lovingly wrap my arms around my father with my tiny 3 foot body, only to look up and find the man on whose legs I was nuzzling with my cheek was, in fact, NOT MY FATHER!
Then there was the time in high school when I loudly proclaimed, “Who would dress their twins in matching clothes? That’s just stupid.” Did I forget to mention I was standing in the living room with several friends and a set of parents… parents of the twins in the room, just to be clear.
Let’s not forget the time my father interrupted me and my boyfriend canoodling in my room.
Annnnd the time he caught me amorously embracing a different boyfriend at the park. (Sure, you just “happened” to drive by, Dad.)
*Please note I had like 3 boyfriends IN MY LIFE. It seems my father’s reputation as c*%kblocker was not a selling point for most adolescent boys. (Well played, Dad. Well played.)
And who could forget the time I decided to spend some quality time watching TV with my dad. Our show du jour- ‘The Sopranos’. Are you aware of how much sex gangsters have? It’s a lot. Like a lot a lot. Just ask my dad.
Then there was the day I accidentally invited another woman’s husband to join me at the movies, the awkward moment I had The Talk with Luke, the afternoon I was pretty sure Nate said “shit” in Target, and who could forget the day Nate asked the meaning of pole dancing.
Simply put, if I’m not saying or doing embarrassing things, someone birthed from my body is.
Last week I experienced what might go down in my personal history as the most awkward, blush-inducing, snickering-filled hour of my life.
I had 2 men from a furniture repair service arrive at my house to fix a terrible squeak… in my bed.
Before I recount every possibly innuendo-laden moment, please do the following:
Name 3 things that would cause your marital bed to squeak… besides sex.
If you said “kids” or “dog” you’ve already exhausted every answer I developed. Sure, there are variations of those two: kids wrestling, kids jumping, dog jumping, big dog. But that’s pretty much all I’ve got.
Just so you know, if you are going to have 2 men in your home to repair squeak in your marital bed, you should probably have at least 15 other ideas about what caused said squeak because an hour is a loooooong time to avoid the awkwardly obvious noise maker: having sex.
The bed in the above picture was purchased by The Hubs and I two years ago. However, in the last 6 months it has been squeaking and creaking and groaning somethin’ awful. We’re talking loud enough to wake both of us or, um, distract us… from watching TV and reading, of course. Instead of buying a whole new bed I was determined to see if we could fix the problem.
I’ll save you the boring details and just hit the highlights:
-2 men: 1 kind of attractive (total light-eyed lumbersexual who reminded me of The Hubs), 1 extremely jovial very talkative and unaware of potentially awkward comments or the embarrassment of everyone else in the room.
-1 40 year old woman trying desperately not to giggle like a 12 year old boy or spontaneously burst into flames due to excessive blushing
-1 dog who will not stop rolling over and exposing his stomach and boy parts
-1 really squeaky bed
-As many awkward sentences and questions that can be crammed into a discussion about a bed
I think that pretty much sums it up.
Let’s get back to the original exercise. Why would you need to know more than 3 reasons your bed is squeaking, besides sex? Because you will have to formulate appropriate responses to the following types of statements and inquiries:
When do you notice the bed squeaking the most?
Do you hear the noise when you’re all over the bed or just in one spot?
Is the noise only noticeable when you’re moving a lot?
Could you please show me where the sound seems to be coming from?
So it’s only when there’s vigorous movement?
The problem seems to be in the connection. You see this is the female part- it has this hole that needs to fit with the male part here at the bottom.
And the piece de resistance. The comment to top all comments…
Well, I think we made ‘er nice and tight. There shouldn’t be any more squeaking unless you’re really rocking that headboard.
My answers were as follows:
the kids wrestling, the kids jumping, the dog jumping, have you seen how BIG my dog is, the kids and the dog, I’m familiar with male and female parts and how they work, no explanation required.
I’m happy to report that regardless of the circumstances under which our bed squeaked, the problem is solved. No more squeaking. Not even when the headboard is really rocking… from the kids and the dog and all their wrestling, of course.
And I’m fairly certain I’d rather hunker down with my dad to watch the entire series of ‘The Sopranos’, filled with its gratuitous mafia man sex, than ever have my bed repaired again.
That’s just my normal.
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