For me, being able to talk and laugh with out a baby pulling your hair and biting your skin is a romantic night at it's best.
All was great until he put his arms around me.
"oh!! What was that?" he asked in full excitement and significant lust in his face and tone of voice.
"huh? What?" I asked and paused for a second until I realized what he thought it was. "That's my stomach dude!!!! It's soft and fluffy now!!"
You see, I got no abs. What I have is a fully stretched out, flapping, stretch marked tummy. And figuring out where my breast ends and my stomach starts needs a complex analysis made by NASA. Although, I really didn't realize it's all that bad until the hubby sort of um, slap that information on may face!
But of course, just like what a typical guy would do, he denied his mistake. He pretended that he knew that it was my stomach and that I just misinterpreted him. (I can't believe he actually thought I would buy that! seriously?)
And that is how one can ruin a potentially romantic night.
The (not to mention, freakn') end!
