I’m a Good Wife


Have you ever seen those adds on Craigslist guaranteeing free rent so long as you roam around the apartment naked for the enjoyment of the renter? Living with Mirs is kinda like that. I roam around naked doing wifely duties and she beats off in the bedroom.

HA! Total lie…or is it? I’ll let you ponder that.

So today was a pretty amazing. The weather here in New York keeps getting warmer and warmer, although the fucking wind makes it near impossible to enjoy being outside for longer than a few hours before feeling as though your limbs will freeze off. We woke up and I got out of Mirs’ hair a little early-my lady’s working on her PhD while finishing up her Master’s…she’s a busy chickadee and I had the day off-No way in hell I’m hanging around inside all day.

I went up to Harlem to get the rest of my crap out of my old place before wandering around the Columbia/Morningside Heights Area. I love my new neighborhood, I love the fact that for the most part I’m not harassed on the streets. If I am, it’s thankfully by Spanish-speaking men and I don’t speak Spanish. If they’re saying fucked up shit, I can’t understand them anyway. (sorry for the swearing by the way, I’m a little drunk)

Even though I love our new ‘hood and I’m pretty sure that we’ll be spending the rest of our time in New York in Brooklyn, I will miss Harlem. It’s nice to see so many people from so many different back grounds up there. I’ll miss the food-Le Monde, my favorite, favorite place to get mussels will always be in my heart and Mirs keeps reminding me that we’re still going to Amy Ruth’s even though I don’t live up there any more.

It sounds like I’ve moving to another state, right? Well, Harlem from Brooklyn is kind of a whole other world away. I mean, the commute can take an hour on a good day catching the trains pulling into the station. It’s not exactly convenient. The great thing is, my heart will always be in Manhattan so I don’t imagine that Harlem and I will be parted for that long.

So Mirs and I met at the Union Square Farmer’s Market to get some herbs and veggies for our back yard garden. Then, I made dinner. Okay, I’m going to say something that may not be the most…feminist thing ever but I don’t really care because I don’t and never have truly whole-heartedly identified as a feminist. Okay. Here goes, I love to cook dinner for my girl friend. I mean, love. Like how some people feel complete satisfaction and utter joy for their children or pets? That’s the feeling I get watching Mirs eat the food I create for her.

I love to watch her eat it. She’s a cute eater, I can’t believe she went to finishing school sometimes watching her eat. She eats like she loves the food-Like Padma in that Hardees commercial…or Nigela Lawson. I love to watch that woman eat, too. I would cook for her any day of the week just to watch her eat. That’s how it is watching Mirs. She loves to eat, she eats with her fingers sometimes, she uses bread the way it’s supposed to be used-for sopping up juices, not as a side. She gets food on her face, her lips, her chin and she licks it off with her tongue. She moans, groans, and her face contorts in ways that can only be likened to orgasms. It’s amazing. I feel amazing. I mean, food is so important to my day to day life. I promised her that’d I’d cook for her every single night of our lives (when I’m not closing) and she agreed and I smiled, satisfied.

I mean, is it so wrong, to want to cook for someone, the one you love for ever and ever ’til death do you part amen? I don’t think so. For one, I’m amazing at cooking. Amazing. There are two things, okay three things that I know without a doubt that I’m amazing at-In no particular order
1-Sex. I’m fucking unreal
2-Writing. I mean, come on, you’re reading this, right? AMAZING
3-Cooking. It’s orgasmic, ask my friends.

the end.

p.s-spastic, i know…i was blogging, Facebooking, and twittering all while downloading photos…


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