Geeky Sexy Text FAIL

So at first I was far too embarrassed horrified to post this, but after spending half of the day in tears from laughing so hard, I thought I may as well share this with the blogosphere before I explode. (Maybe this is why my husband and mum call me Little Miss Disclosure?)

So today was Tessa’s two week check-up at the doctors. It was a great visit. Her jaundice is now completely gone, she has just passed her birth weight by one ounce (she had gone from her birth weight of 7 pounds 3 ounces, down to 6 pounds 10 ounces in week one, and is now up to 7 pounds 4 ounces in week 2), and she was calm and bright eyed for the whole visit – even during the poking and prodding. The hospital staff kept raving about how relaxed and observant she was. So I left the hospital in a rather chipper mood, content in the knowledge that my baby is the cutest, coolest, chillest, healthiest baby on the planet. EVER.

As I was leaving the hospital, my handsome husband calls to ask if I’d like to meet him for lunch and a coffee date. Well, duh! My husband just this past weekend got leave to move out of the barracks and move in with me. For the first time since his joining the Navy on June 3rd of this year, we are now living together again. BUT, on certain nights when he works late or has to get up particularly early, he’ll be spending the night on the base for convenience sake. Tonight is one of those nights. So a coffee date was an unexpected treat.

We sat for a few hours at a Starbucks, cooing and oohing and ahhing over our gorgeous princess. As the pain of childbirth gets farther away and my stitches start to heal, I keep finding myself ruing the fact that I can’t, shall we say, get jiggy with it. Watching my sexy husband in his NWU’s – holding our precious daughter, brazenly babbling in baby talk to her in the middle of a Starbucks – and already feeling the kindling of desire to make another baby and grow our little family has kind of heightened that resentment.

I always thought the curse of “the pain of childbirth” spoken of in Genesis 3:16 was all bundled up in the single moment of shoving a 7 pound human being out of your hoo-haw. But now the sexual frustrations whilst sporting a vagina that makes me wish for death while pooping gives a whole new meaning to how “your desire will be for your husband” can be a curse.

That said, my brain was feeling inclined to wander to the dark side as we left Starbucks and I dropped my husband off at work.

Now, I’m a geek, through and through. As is my husband. So while driving home, I found my mind drifting over various scenes from The Lord of the Rings. I was thinking about the scene in The Fellowship of the Ring with Gandalf at the Walls of Moria, where the Doors of Durin read, “Speak Friend and Enter”.

Since my ADHD mind was still thinking about all the baby making I’d like to do, I naturally thought the lines from that scene would have made a great sex lead-in joke. So – feeling clever and geek chic – I sent my husband a sext that only a nerd would find both humorous and arousing.

After sending my masterpiece, I sat snickering to myself over my clever naughtiness, anxiously awaiting the response of “Mellon!” followed by an equally nerdy repartee. (I’m sure this speaks volumes for the healthiness of our marriage / sex life.) When my phone finally made it’s little iPhone “you’ve got a text” chirp, I pounced on it to read:

I don’t think I’ve ever been so red in my life. Seriously. I’ve been blushing so hard for so long that I’ve got a frikkin’ RASH on my neck. The gal from Starbucks texted back, knowing I was Jonathan’s wifey because we sat loitering for hours in the store, me sitting across from Jonathan with a drink in my hand with my name on it. Out of all the innocent, random, G-rated texts I send Jonathan, THIS is what I send when Jonathan leaves his phone at Starbucks. Seriously. W.T.F.

When I picked up the phone, there was no mention of my text, but there were a LOT of broad grins and half-heartedly concealed snickers and giggles. Especially when they had to ask the obligatory security question before handing the phone off.

“What is the picture on the home screen?”

“Uhhhh, my husband cosplaying as Thor.”

“*snicker snicker*”

Oy vey. And the worst part is, I don’t even know if the barista even GOT the Lord of the Rings reference, or if she just thinks I’m some awkwardly worded skank that sucks at sexting and likes to play dress up with her husband – who makes a mighty fine Thor if I do say so myself.

Jonathan, of course, thought all this was just hi-larious. Man. That boy OWES ME. Amiright?!