My dirty little secret

I have lots to do today. I'm not even going to bother with a list because who really reads that stuff anyway?

I did manage to get quite a bit done yesterday, despite the fact that one of my friends is in the biggest emotional crisis of her life and I've spent a lot of energy worrying about her and on the phone with her. They are definite Mary moments, and I feel perfectly at peace with the fact that my kitchen floor is STILL dirty because PEOPLE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THINGS (things being chores and stuff, in this case).

Disclaimer: Mom, if you are reading this, please stop now. I'm about to say something that could change your life, but stop now because you will never be able to look me in the eye again.

One area I've learned to balance Martha and Mary pretty well is with my husband. I know that if I cook 4-5 times per week, make a pie every so often, and spend money only on what is reasonable, then he's pretty happy with the Martha Amy. But he also really loves that I arrange the babysitters and get all prettied-up to spend an evening just hanging on his arm and talking to him, and listening to him. If you'd have told me that first year of marriage that we would get along this well, I'd have laughed at you.

Over the past week or so, I have had more conversations about what a healthy marital sex life looks like than ever in my life. I'm beginning to feel like Dr. Ruth. My marriage is better right now than it has ever been. Andy and I still fight on occasion, but we adore each other. I never would have dreamed marriage could be this good. So I'm going to tell you my secret. The secret that I firmly believe began this incredible high our marriage is on. Are you ready?

Each man on earth, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, has a catalogue of images in his head of scantily-clad women. Even the man who has worked hard to keep his mind pure has this catalogue. It might consist of the Victoria's Secret ad he sees as he walks with his wife through the mall. Or of the secretary at work who bent over to pick up something she dropped, unaware that he can see straight down her top. And those are just the men who work hard at it. Everybody knows this, right?

And I think that, deep down, we all know my little secret, too. But it has shocked me how many people have reacted with an "aha" moment to this one little thing. So here goes:

My mission, as a wife who loves her husband and wants this marriage to be rock solid, is to have as many images in that catalogue of myself as possible. When he is away on business, I want him to be able to recall images of ME, and I want him to be dying to come home to me.

There it is. Some of you are saying, "Huh? That's it? That's all you got?"

But some of you are thinking, "Holy cow! Why didn't I think of that? I'm running to the mall to buy myself something pretty right now."

Yes, my body will never be Vic's-runway-ready. But believe me when I tell you that he doesn't care.

Ask him what his fantasy is, and then BE that. If only for one night. With the lights on. He will NEVER forget it.