Unless you have been living under a rock (yet strangely have
access to this obscure little blog), you have probably heard Robin Thicke’s song
“Blurred Lines.” It’s a wildly popular hit
single that has basically become the summer anthem of 2013. It’s nearly impossible to hear this song and
not sing along or shake that ass. The
single is undeniably sexy, and contains lines such as “must wanna get nasty”
and “let me be the one you bare that ass to.”
This is why I was a bit shocked when this song recently came on the
radio and my two-year-old daughter demanded, “Turn it up!” However, she does
love to dance and thus loves a good beat (regardless of the asinine lyrics), so
I did her bidding and we both sang “hey – hey – hey – hey” and wiggled in our
seats while cruising in the minivan (yeah, I roll hard).
More shocking than her demand for increased volume to this
sexy single was the proclamation that followed as she informed me, “This is
Daddy’s song!” Daddy’s song? What? The sexy summer anthem that talks about liberating good
girls who are really animals by nature? This is Daddy’s song? The fuck?
This didn’t confuse me because I’m some sort of jealous wife
who believes my spouse should only think about sex as it relates directly to me.
Rather, it puzzled me because I would have never associated my husband with
such a sexy, confident song. Truth be
told, my husband doesn’t exactly ooze sexuality or confidence. I realize that sounds like a totally bitchy
statement, but let me provide you with a little scenario. Before we were coupled, my husband and I were
close friends. I always thought he was a
very pleasant individual, and hoped that he would find a girl to make him happy
(at that time not even considering said girl could actually be me). As I hoped he would find a satisfying
relationship, I would often encourage him to approach women. On one of these occasions, he told me, “Angela,
enough! For real, what am I supposed to say? Hey, want to come over here and share some awkward silence with me?”
Daddy’s song is “Freakish” by Saves the Day, okay? Not Robin
Thicke’s “Blurred Lines”!
But, maybe, just maybe, Daddy was living some sort of secret
life I didn’t know about. Maybe he could
actually be confident, suave, and debonair.
So, I let my suspicions get the better of me, and inquired about my
husband’s activities when I was recently away for a week . “Emily,” I asked my daughter, “Did daddy have
any women over while Mommy was on vacation?”
“Yes,” she answered, with a smile and a giggle. It appeared that Emily was aware of her
father’s awkward nature, and thus found some humor in her reply.
“He did!” I said, shocked, but also not truly believing a
word my daughter was now telling me.
Despite the fact that I gave no merit to her response, I continued to
play along. I then questioned, “How many
women did Daddy have over?”
“Eight,” she answered with another big grin. For some reason, her favorite numbers are
eight and nine. When we recently had a
garage sale, she attempted to charge every customer “nine dollars” regardless
of their actual purchase. They would look at me, and I’d have to explain she
had favorite numbers and then confirm that no, they really only owed me fifty
cents for whatever crap they were taking off my hands.
“Eight!” I yelled, with even more animated astonishment. “Hmmm … what did Daddy do with these
women? Did he hug them and kiss them?” If “Blurred Lines” was Daddy’s song, he must
have hugged and kissed these women, right?
The lyrics do say, “You wanna hug me. What rhymes with hug me?” Pure brilliance! Give that man a Grammy!
(sarcasm font)
“Yes, Mommy!” she answered, “He kiss the women.”
Later, I informed my husband of this exchange with my
daughter. It wasn’t a confrontation; it
was simply a comical conversation. He
looked to my daughter and said, “Oh, Emily! You are full of beans! Did we also ride a unicorn on the moon while
Mommy was gone?”
“Yes!” she nodded her head and squealed in delight.
We both laughed at our adorable little daughter, and then my
husband told her, “Alright Emily, it’s time to tell the truth.”
“Okay,” she said, “I tell the truth.”
I then proceeded to ask her about my husband’s escapades
during my absence. “Alright, Emily, did
Daddy really have women over when Mommy was on vacation?”
“Yes,” she stated quite matter-of-factly.
I knew that my mother and his mother had both been over to
help out with the children while he was working and I was away, so this answer
was acceptable. “How many women, Emily?”
Despite loving the numbers eight and nine, she did tell the
truth this time and replied, “Two.”
“Were they beautiful young women, Emily?” I then inquired.
“No, Mommy, they old ladies.”
Old ladies! Yes! That’s
what I was hoping to hear! I knew
my husband was still the freakish, awkward, but loyal and loving man I married,
and my daughter is just a silly, imaginative wonder. I was very satisfied with the truth, and very
amused with Emily’s tall tales regarding “Blurred Lines.”
