Several weeks ago my naturally burly, occasional dirt under his fingernails, hairy chested husband came home from work & had the unusual urge to take a bath. Yes, I said bath. Get your mental imagination ready cause I want you to picture this. It's the stuff that dreams are made of:
I walked in the bathroom purely for my own amusement & found him, all 6 feet of him, shoved up in the too-small-for-6-foot-men tub. He had used Ruby's Burts Bees bubble bath, had Ruby's pink rubber duckie floating in the water & was wearing my lime green exfoliating gloves. AND since we were out of PBR in the bottle, he was sipping on an amaretto sour with extra cherries & his pinky finger all pointed out.
I took one long grinning glance at him (& his "parts" that were floating) & declared, "Zack, honey, you might just be having the GAYEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE."
(Except for that one time at that sleepover in high school... just kidding just kidding).
No seriously, I was all, "where's your American Apparel Deep V Neck Tee?" & "what's next? Am I going to find you listening to Celine Dion & crying?" or "shopping for linen napkins in the right shade of aubergine for your next dinner party?"
Then I offered him a Pamprin.
(apparently, he is sure enough of his manhood that he's actually letting me hit the orange "publish post" button).
sidenote: I am fully aware that I used homosexual stereotypes. Laugh with me.