Despite the guest blogs I’ve done on Demystifying Men over at http://www.totalebound.blogspot.com/, there are some things I will never understand about men. I’ll start with the obvious:
What the heck is it with the remote? I’d like to say guys and the remote is a stereotype, but unfortunately, it’s not. Seriously, it doesn’t matter if it’s my husband or one of my two boys. They have to have the remote in their hand. They have a complete inability to watch TV or a DVD if they can’t find it. I mean, heaven forbid that, oh I don’t know, they push the buttons on the television and DVD player. It’s tough, I know it, but it’s not impossible guys.
Inability to Find Things
This should be coupled with the inability to put away anything. Most of the time, I’ll admit, I’ve gotten in the habit of leaving their stuff where it drops until I can catch them and make them put it away. Or unless someone is coming over—that trumps everything. Still, I am the only one who knows the whereabouts of: shoes, coats, the laundry room, wallets, backpacks, books, the kitchen sink, the trashcan, etc. I’ll admit that ticks me off. I’ve been training my kids on the picking up their trash and laundry since they were old enough to pick up stuff and walk, yet they can’t. I shouldn’t be surprised. The oldest Why chromosome in the house can’t either.
Inability to Keep Track of Schedules
My husband actually has the nerve to call me his walking calendar and his cruise director. He can’t make any plans without me. He can’t or won’t make his own doctor appointments. He can’t remember them let alone anything that is scheduled for the kids or at church or family obligations. And even though I tell his twelve times he still can’t remember. Maybe I should tell him thirteen… I tell you, if I did, he’d accuse me of nagging. It’s a fine line we walk. Fine line.
What is it about the phone? It looks a lot like a remote, yet they can’t use it. Not to call the doctor. Not to call a store. Not to call to get movie times. Not to call his mother. Or answer. My husband can be right beside the phone and not answer it. It’s like he has a huge aversion to touching it. I write this mentioning my husband, but I’ve witnessed it with scores of men. I don’t get it.
On a side note, though, men seemed to love cell phones… I am honestly flummoxed by the whole thing. If I got rid of my home phone and we only used cells… I wonder what would happen.
People have mentioned other guy foibles to me but I’ve skipped those because mine doesn’t do them. I do have a pretty good one. And even most of the things above, I just take as par for the course. They just confuse me. They’re just another page in the Why Chromosome book.
Now, I’m delighted to share an excerpt from one of the stories in the Camouflaged Hearts anthology. This story is by the delightful Aliyah Burke who writes this story with the knowledge of what it is to be a Navy wife. Her perspective adds a reality to the story that might otherwise be missing.
A Marriage of Convenience
A Naval pilot, a one night stand and years later a second chance, can they make it work this time?
Pharmacological student, Ayanna Barker, was working hard to give her and her son a good life. Sure, things were tight, but it was all worth it. The man who had given her her child has also given her the best night of her life…and she had never forgotten him.
But can Michael and Ayanna realise what they share is so much more than just a marriage of convenience?
Michael Taylor had been talking on his cell phone when he’d stepped into the busy beer tent line. A jostle from behind had almost shoved him into the woman in front of him. His hand had swiped across the bottom of her back and in that second, everything else had faded away. Electrical currents had showered him. The second her soulful brown eyes had landed on his, it was as if he’d just hit mach one in his jet.
He’d stood still as her eyes had travelled hungrily over him. Part of him had wanted to preen while more of him had wanted to lift her up, carry her away from everyone and kiss her senseless. And keep going from there.
What the hell am I thinking? I don’t know this woman, but damn if I don’t want to.
She wore a purple open-backed shirt that perfectly offset the nutmeg hue of her skin and a pair of hip hugging black jeans. He saw sandals on her feet and if he moved his head just so, he could see the dark purple on her toenails.
While their physical connection was over almost immediately, the ardent impression still lingered between them. He wasn’t blind to the desire swirling in her eyes no matter how she tried to pretend indifference.
Paying for her beer along with his, it seemed only natural to settle his large palm against the smooth, dark skin of her back as they left the overcrowded beer tent.
He had no problem following her. The gentle scent on her skin reached out and wound around him, making him yearn for more of her. He craved to find out if her perfume was just around her neck or if the tempting smell went all the way to her feet.
When she stopped to allow a group of people to pass, he leaned forward and murmured, “Michael,” into her ear.
Her head turned, positioning her full tempting lips a hairsbreadth from his, and she whispered, “Ayanna.”
He kissed her. He had no choice. Her mouth had teased him as it formed her name and challenged him to sample her lips. She tasted divine.
The innocent kiss quickly evolved into something more. Michael hungered for all that this woman offered. He dominated the kiss, using his tongue to sweep throughout the recesses of her mouth.
His cock swelled and dug into her side as Michael plundered her mouth. He groaned his pleasure as the kiss lengthened.
The roar of jets in the sky rumbled around them and put a miniscule distance between their bodies as he struggled for restraint.
Ayanna’s lips were swollen from the force of their kiss.
“I want you,” he stated bluntly as he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She ran her tongue over her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed huskily.“After the show.” Taking her hand, he led her to a vacant spot on the ground. They watched the show like any other couple, holding hands, exchanging kisses, and occasionally staring into each other’s eyes. As the park had begun to empty after the show, Michael kept one muscled arm around her, anchoring them together. They’d stopped at the entrance. Pressing her against the cool wall of a ticket booth, Michael ran his hands through her short hair. Strong legs settled on either side of her thin body, eliminating any means of escape.