The Fear of Naked Acrobatics

The air was thick with it. That smell. You know the one. The heady aroma of crisp freshly laundered sheets, rain on the wind, coffee and three different types of bodily fluids. There I was, standing over the toilet bowl, reflecting upon the “morning greeting” my wife gave me, while adding a fourth bodily fluid to the mix. I wiped the crustiness of sleep from my eyes and splashed some water in my face and gazing at my reflection, recognised the almost familiar look of a man who had just got some.

Awash with surprised satisfaction and greedily dreaming about the freshly brewed cappuccino I was about to start sipping, I waited in the kitchen for my wife to join me. I wanted to share my happiness with her, given that she was the chief provider of it. A couple of minutes had elapsed, my coffee was half finished, but she hadn’t emerged. Maybe she was in the bathroom. I left her be. I sipped more coffee. I switched on the telly, barely aware of Homer dreaming about thigh slapping monkeys. I said barely aware...OK c'mon, it's the're always kind of aware.

Anyway, five minutes had elapsed. Still no wife. She could be getting dressed. These things take time. I waited some more. Maybe some eggs for breakfast. Yeah. I could cook her eggs. As a thank you. A token of my appreciation. Fifteen minutes later, dishes washed, second coffee made and two platefuls of scrambled eggs and toast resting neglected on the dining table, there was still no sign of my beloved. What the hell?

You know when you're sitting on the couch, shoving fistful after fistful of salted snacks in your gob, flicking channels on the telly for sport and you happen upon something that stops your demented surfing in its tracks. Something that stops you so suddenly that your salted snacks fall like autumn leaves from your mouth. Something akin to secret footage of a genetically enhanced Emperer Penguin mating with a dwarf pony that makes your mind scream WTF? They have weird crap like that on the Discovery channel all the time. You know what I'm talking about. Just think about that moment, the utter absurdity of it. You thinking about it? You know what I'm referring to? You can feel it yeah? OK...this is what I felt when I walked through the bedroom door and discovered my wife, counting out loud, laying on her back, her legs splayed and almost touching the ceiling, her hands under her arse, gently massaging the cheeks.

"Ahem," I coughed loudly, hoping to gain her attention.

"Be with you in a minute honey. I just have five more revolutions to do." she puffed between numbers, her legs now rotating as if she were riding an upside down, invisible bike.

"Ummm." How do you respond to that?

"...four...five. OK done," she stated emphatically, repositioning herself and wiping away beads of sweat from her forehead. She gazed up at me happily, a sense of purpose and accomplishment smeared over her face.

"What are you doing?" I questioned, not sure I wanted an answer.

"What? Nothing," she answered, shoving her head through a jumper. Nothing? That wasn't nothing lady. That was definitely something.

"What d'you mean nothing?" Why did I ask? I knew I shouldn't have. You never should, and my next question was just another in a long list of stupid questions I'd asked in the last few months. "What was with the naked acrobatics?"

"Oh right, that." Go on. We're all waiting. "It's just some exercises that the doctor gave me to aid conception." Huh? Is that what you and cat-hair were scheming about at our last appointment after he insulted me for an hour? How could you betray me so?

"Aid conception..." I repeated, hoping that I had misheard her.

"Yeah. You know, so we can fall pregnant." No dice.

"How?" Another one of those stupid, stupid questions.

"Well, the idea is that if I elevate my bum and keep my legs in the air and move them about then your..." Don't say it! Please for God's sake don't say it. "...sperm will have a better chance of finding my eggs." Ugh...she had to didn't she...she just had to say it. I now had that image trickling in my mind like my boys were trickling in...well, you get the idea.

"Oh." I mumbled, horrified. It occurred to me that I wasn't the sexy beast that I thought I was. Oh hell no. Uh uh. Shit! She may not actually even want to dance the fandango with me at all. Not willingly at least. Not without some kind of result. That would be like working without pay. Like volunteering. It was all about you know what. "So our freaky make out session this morning had nothing to do with you being enamoured with my absolute manliness and obvious sexual charms either did it?" Oh you stupid, stupid boy.

She stood up, gave me a kiss, smiled and half-walked, half-skipped down the corridor to the kitchen, humming what I was sure was Baby Love by The Supremes. She paused at the end, laughed and slipped into the kitchen. I remained in the bedroom, feeling like a right stooge. I needed to find hope. Find something to cling to. Then it dawned on me. If this was how it was going to be, if I was to be nothing but the propagator of seeds, then I may as well get some enjoyment out of it.

"So, same time tomorrow?" I called out hopefully. She popped her head out from the kitchen, shook her head, smiling and went back into hiding. I could her the chink of a knife and fork against a ceramic plate.

"Oooh scrambled eggs! Thanks baby!" She hollered, blissfully aware of the rapid deflation of my hope bubble. Stupid, stupid boy.