“….things you probably don’t want to know.”

Allergies are the worst. You walk around like a zombie because all the medication you took warned of drowsiness. Your eyes are puffy….your nose is running like a faucet so you just balled up tissue and stuck it directly in your nostrils to stop the ooze. Your coughing and breathing hard, so you sound like Darth Vader wherever you go. Its the most unsexy condition known to man. That’s where i am now. I feel weak and every single small task feels like im trying to cure world hunger.  I look at my stairs into my house ans it looks like Mount Everest to me.

“She wanted stairs….I didn’t want stairs.  Who’s bright idea was it to invent stairs? What happened to the old fashioned skill of climbing up walls. What I wouldn’t give to be Spider-Man right now..just shoot a web-thingy out of my arm and float up there. ”

After the slowest trek up a flight of stairs ever in the Guinness Book of World Records…I plopped on my couch and took an inventory. It was nice and quiet. All I could hear was the heaving of my mucus filled lungs. The silence was broken.

“Honey. …can you grab the laundry out of the dryer? ”

I sighed and got up to walk to the garage. I opened up the dryer and something caught my eye. Something in a far away box…it was shiny. I had to know what it was. We are all attracted to shiny things…so my wandered as I figured out a way to get to that box. I began moving box after box and it was finally within grasp. I was wheezing from all this unexpected work. I grabbed the shiny item and looked at it. A plain ol’ CD. I flipped it over and there was writing on it.

“Freaky-Deeky mix….oooohhhhhh”

I was curious. It was my wife’s handwriting. I walked back into the house.

“Hey..babe. What’s this?” I handed it to her. She chuckled.

“Do you really want to know what I used this CD for? What kind of music is on this CD?”

“No…but I bet it whenever you played this ‘Freaky-Deeky’ CD, a bed was involved.”

“Not always…..” She laughed. I had stumbled upon my wife’s old mood music CD. The music she played to become the soundtrack to a night full of nasty activities. I looked at her and I could see her mind churning….thinking of memories and the random dongs that joined in this CD.

I’ve known this woman for 17 years. But I had never asked about her “number.” The amount of men she had slept with. It never bothered me. But I admit, I get weak sometimes. What would I gain if she told me? First of all, she would probably be lying. And no matter what the number was….it would still be too high in my eyes. And more questions would come up.

“Who was your best? Am I the best? Who was ‘bigger? Who? That guy? No way….where is he now? Im going there and asking him to show it….cause you know I have no problem whipping it out for no reason.”

So, I bit my tongue and tabled that question. There are just some questions that you don’t want the answers to.

I’m curious. What about you? Are there questions about your significant other that you don’t want the answers to? Does the ‘number’ bother you?

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