Hands Off My Husband!

So, Friday night, Scarlett says can she go caroling with a group of her friends. As soon as I discovered that I would not have to supervise the event I said, yes, of course. So I take her to a house nearby with what passes for normal decorations, even in middle class suburbia i.e: a see through plastic snow globe the size of a man, with a dancing penguin inside, piped music playing So Here It Is Merry Christmas and two human sized blow up Snoopy's wearing Santa hats balanced perilously on the roof.


Anyway, the mother who answers the door had done a fantastic job of avoiding the fashion police. I was going to say: "This is a citizen's arrest for three counts of screaming fashion disasters, namely 1. knitted red headband with snowflakes on it holding back hair 2. earrings shaped like Christmas baubles 3. red sweater with glittery bits and reindeer motif." Instead I said, "Is it all right if I just drop Scarlett off for the carolling party?"

"Oh?" said Baubles with a frown. "So you're not coming? I think it's going to be great fun."

"Yes, I'm sure it'll be fun, but ..." mind scrambles for an excuse.

Baubles peers at me as I notice screaming fashion disaster 4. bright red lipstick on a ruddy slightly chapped face. "Actually, you look a bit ill. Are you ill?"

The cheeky cow! No, I was not ill, but that was obviously the only excuse that was going to get me out of this. So I said, cough, cough, "Yes actually, I do have the flu, so I'd best be off. Don't want to infect the kids you know!" and hastily shoved Scarlett in the door.

When I got home I noticed that my husband was dressed in a suit and a wine red shirt and looked pretty damn hot if I do say so myself. He was going to his office Christmas party later which I wasn't going to. Later, when he went to pick up Scarlett, he told me that some of the mums had been drooling over him.


"I suppose it was because I was dressed up nice while their much older husbands were lolling about, guts straining against festive sweaters."

"No doubt," I said.

I suppose I should be pleased that I am living with the hottest bit of man meat in suburbia. But I'm not, because I'm a miserable sod.

I wonder if some of these desperate housewives will start popping round with the excuse of wanting to swap some great new cookie recipe when actually just wanting to ogle my husband?

For a laugh, I asked him if he'd do any of those mums, but he said he wouldn't because none of them are attractive enough. But I think what was really putting him off was those sweaters. Go on, I dare any of you to get aroused thinking about a man or woman in one of those godawful sweaters. See, you can't do it can you?