This December, Mr. Mix and I will be celebrating our 13th anniversary. Yep, Lucky 13. And I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors in your hobbit houses, but here at Mix & Bitch headquarters, we’re working hard not to get stuck in the label of co-parents first and lovers much later. When the girls were younger, we definitely failed at that many times. But now Drama Queen’s almost six and Sweet Pea just turned ten, so needless to say that while they still have these Spidey Senses which insist on busting in on us the minute we’re alone together, we’re starting to manipulate their schedules more so we actually get the house to ourselves once in a while.
Not nearly enough.
Anyway, in addition to just getting actual alone time together, we’re trying to keep it “fresh” – which GodDamn I don’t know how you do when you’ve been fucking the same person for most of your adult life. Before Mr. Mix came alone my longest relationship was just shy a year, and trust me, that was the outlier stat in my dating history because most of them lasted between 3-6 months on average.
Why so little?
Hmm…well, Ms. Mix & Bitch had MAJOR emotional intimacy/father issues (yum – just a delic combo)…the minute a guy started talking commitment, I literally got ill. I remember going on a date with this guy Mandy in college (yes, it was a guy. Really. His parents must have really loved Barry Manilow, I guess 😉 who was expressing how much he liked me – probably because I was one of the few girls he knew who liked Bob Dylan – and while he’s being perfectly normal and sweet and forthcoming, Lil Miss Fucked in the Head literally stopped walking on the South Beach boardwalk by The Clevelander to hurl in an alley. I blamed it on the sushi, but deep down, I knew better.
The ones who lasted longer were even more emotionally distant and messed up than I was (yes, I’m talking about you, E.K.)…what’s my point? I guess I’m just amazed that my man and I still want to get it on after so long. I just wish that keeping it fresh didn’t sometimes feel like work. Not all the time, but it takes effort to not fall into the same ol, same ol patterns. That said, we’re not up for swinging or swapping or watching the other with someone else. Either I’m just not that freaky or free or ridiculous, take your pick. And the whole tying up/role playing thingy feels like Halloween Gone Bad to us.
I wouldn’t mind another “husband” – you know, Utah style – because I like the idea of monogomy and, um, you know, actually knowing the person who’s lap sword’s going into you, but I don’t think Mr. Mix is going for that one anytime soon. Although man would it take the pressure off of him.
“Want to go to the movies honey?”
“Can we see the latest action adventure load of crap?”
“No, I want to see the overindulgent weepy chick flick.”
“Shit babe, can’t you just take ‘Zack’ ? (this is the name of my fictitious second husband)”
“Sure thing – go watch the game. Buh bye!”
‘Zack’ would help with the kids and go to all that museum-y/chick lite outings I want to go to, and be up for sex in the middle of the afternoon and help with the grocery shopping afterwards and….
Wait a second. That’s not a second husband. That’s a wife. Man, and I thought I was really onto something 😉