A Promise is A Promise

To celebrate the fact that I KICKED some grey-haired, balding, over-worked, underpaid civil servant battle axe's ass, I'm going out tonight, with my girlfriends. The kids are being shuffled to the mother-in-laws and I'm putting on my dancing shoes.

It's a full fledged girl night tonight, and this girl is going to re-examine her love of Jose Cuervo and his fine product.

This was in fact, my husband's suggestion. And who am I to not listen to my husband, right? After all, I am nothing, if not a docile, loving, respectful wife who waits on her husband hand and foot and dotes on his every word. It would be wrong of me not to heed his suggestion.


The hubs phoned this morning to see what my day included and how I slept. (He's thoughtful that way.)

I told him I slept fine, which is the truth. I had naughty dreams of the new James Bond doing naughty things to naughty me. I slept fine. Ahem. Turns out, the husband had a naughty dream of his own. Featuring, of course, his hot Asian chick.

(I really have to meet this broad. Maybe she would induce me to have naughty dreams about her and then the hubs and I can bond over her....Not with her. ABOUT her. Sheesh.)

I casually mention that I'm going out with the chicks tonight as per his suggestion. "Where are you ladies going," he asked.

"I thought we'd head to that bar downtown and then head over to then nightclub with the great dance floor on 82nd."

A moment of silence, and then he asked what I would be wearing. "I don't know. I haven't given it much thought yet. Jeans and a pretty top, I guess."

(Of course I have given this thought. I know exactly what I'm going to be wearing. Duh.)

"You're gonna have the girls out tonight aren't you?"

"What do you mean? The girls? Of course, they are coming out. I'm not going out dancing alone. I'm not that big of a loser."

"No, not those girls. The girls on your chest." OOOOHHHHHH. Those girls.

"Well, they kind of go where ever I go, Boo. That is sort of part of the deal of being a chick."

"Very funny. I just wanted to know if you intended on bringing out the big guns tonight."

Yes, because my saggy A-cups are considered big guns by every man alive. Do you see why I married my sweet, delusional, handsome man?

"Don't worry, big guy. The girls will stay strapped in, and hidden under a tee shirt. I'm not going out to pick up men, just to blow off some steam."

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"I wasn't worried. I just like to picture what you're wearing, that's all," he hastened to reassure me.

"Don't worry babe. I'm not going to wear anything that is remotely slutty."

"Well that sucks for my imagination, but I can't say I'm not relieved to hear it."

Are panties considered slutty? After all, I do have a promise to keep. And I don't want to break my word to my darling hubs.

Wink, wink.