Monday, May 11, 2015

Public Displays of Affection: My Husband's Naughty Little Addiction

Oh the infamous PDA or in other words, Public Display of Affection, something my husband considers as normal as blowing his nose - which if anyone personally knows my dearest - this sound has been known to signal the mating season of the Emperor Penguins. What, my dear friends and blog readers ask, is so terrible about this? Nothing IF it's as simple as holding hands or sweet kisses on the cheek both I concur are endearing signs of love and mutual admiration. HOWEVER, my darling does not stop at these reserved displays of tenderness, no - no he does not.

I own the fact that I'm a strange bird. Most women would crave the attention my spouse slathers upon me. Not I. I hate any sort of romantic attention. It's true. I get extremely uncomfortable and yet I married the world's most romantic man. How's that for irony? While we were dating, during our first December together, he gave me increasingly expensive gifts for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas culminating with a ruby ring on Christmas Eve. If this wasn't personally traumatic enough, the evening was spent with his entire family watching me unwrap the ring which was wrapped within a box within a box within a box...well, you get the picture. By the time I found the ring, Eric's father ended the moment by bellowing, "Well Bri, whacha' think?!" I ran out of the room mortified and in tears. Sigh.

I've also admitted in past blogs that my husband and I hardly exchange cross words yet one of our loudest arguments was in the engagement ring store. All I wanted was a small diamond ring with a gold wedding band but Eric demanded that I have at least a full carat and an obnoxious wedding ring encrusted with diamonds. The sales clerk, of course, sided with my husband. It must have had something to do with her commission. Idiot. That awful woman learned some choice words from a former Marine's girlfriend and to never, EVER side with the groom.

Other PDAs, which after twenty years, my dear husband has yet to comprehend are unacceptable to me, his loving, yet increasingly impatient wife:


  • Butt rubbing, stroking, grabbing, bumping or humping of ANY SORT in ANY PUBLIC AREA EVER! This is just NOT COOL.
  • Tongue twisting. Yuck. I think this is gross even in the darkness of movie theaters. It even sounds nasty. What makes my guy think strangers want to see him do this to his wife? We're two reasonably unattractive people. Why would anyone want to see us swap spit?  It's just wrong on so many levels (besides Eric...you're breath...you know what I'm sayin', babes?).
  • Dancing "The Nasty" or "The White Man's Overbite". To save me the awkward description, I'll let you, my readers, use your imaginations. When Eric and I were kids, it was funny. In fact, it's how we met. Now that we're hitting the mid-way point of our lives it's an ugly thing to behold AND might I add, participate in. Let's just stop while we still have a bit of dignity, okay my love?
  • "The Slide".  This is the hand which forgets that it's attached to a brain and slides beneath the nearest piece of my clothing regardless of where I happen to be or who's sitting directly in front of me. Ah me, so many moments in church when "The Slide" suddenly found its way beneath my skirt with our children beside me or a restaurant having my left breast touched while chatting with friends. The self-control I've had to exhibit over the years to avoid screaming or jumping at such violations of my personal space. Oh, Dear God in Heaven!


In a couple of days I'm having surgery. Not serious stuff but I'll be in the hospital overnight
and coming home rather woozy and out of it. I'd like to take this opportunity to inform my loved one, my dearest, that I have rigged a PDA Alarm System so that if any of the above mentioned transgressions should occur without my knowledge or consent EVEN AT HOME, you will suffer my wrath upon my return to reality. Just sayin', Mr. Potts, just sayin'...

P.S. I love you.