(Just to clarify, that is not MY penis because I don’t have one)
Yup. This week, on Thursday, Dave and I hit our 10 year milestone.
10 years since our first date.
10 YEARS OF THE SAME PENIS.
I know that penis inside out. Not literally FFS. But I know his penis like the back of my hand. In fact, I know what his penis looks like more than I know what my own vagina looks like. And considering I have been with my own vagina for nearly 31 years, that’s quite a commitment to genitals that don’t even belong to you.
When I married Dave 2 and a half years ago, I was basically saying “I do” to his penis. I made a vow (again, not literally for gawd’s sake) to always love his penis, in sickness and in health. I wasn’t going to obey it though. Oh no. When that penis prods my back or waggles in my face, I remind it who is boss.
By marrying Dave, I married his penis. 4 lyfe.
Just as well I’m happy with it eh? And that he is happy with my vagina.
Now if the pair of them could just hurry the fuck up and make a baby, everything would be hunky dory…