12/30/2025
I’m gonna be real and raw right now, so this is your one and only warning.
Family & friends: proceed at your own risk.
They say kids take a toll on your s*x life, and listen… I have two, so I’ve experienced this at certain points. Not so much now that they’re older, though
What no one told me is the absolute, irreversible damage DOGS can do to your s*x life.
Surely it can’t just be mine, right? So why did no one help a bitch out and warn me?! I have three of these as****es now. THREE. Would this still have happened if I’d been given this information ahead of time? Probably - because I have zero self-control - but at least I would’ve been emotionally prepared.
My husband gifted me a couple of… risqué garments for Christmas. I was genuinely excited because this is not usually something he picks out on his own, so the man stepped outside his comfort zone this year. And let me tell you: I had GRAND PLANS of breaking them in later that night.
We spent the day with family, hanging out and enjoying gifts. I may have thrown a few looks my husband’s way to signal that I was still very interested. Whether he picked up on that or instead thought I was having early signs of a stroke is still unclear. But I digress.
We finally got home, put the kids to bed, and prepared for some long-awaited alone time. The house was still a little chaotic from Christmas morning, but I wasn’t worried about that. It could wait.
I took a shower. Shaved the important parts (I know, I know he’s a very lucky man). Used the good lotion. The expensive lotion. It was finally time, and NOTHING was going to stand in my way.
Or so I thought.
I left the bathroom to grab my gift… except it wasn’t where I’d left it. I started looking around, and that’s when I saw Moose in his “Corner Where He Takes S**t He Knows He Isn’t Supposed To Have”, with a suspicious amount of pink fabric sticking out from underneath him.
BASTARD.
I walked over and yanked it out, only to discover that he had not one, not two, but ALL THREE PIECES hidden there. This maniac had clearly removed them from their bags, neatly piled them together, and sat on them like a broody hen.
This was methodical.
This was calculated.
This was spiteful.
By some miracle, he hadn’t chewed anything up aside from a few loose threads from their traumatic journey to the underside of Moose. Unfortunately, they were now COVERED in dog hair and slobber. There was absolutely no way I was putting those on before washing them. The last thing I need is to discover rogue Moose hairs in places they should never be.
I told Moose I would get my revenge when he least expected it, tossed the clothes into the washer, and accepted that my carefully crafted plans were officially dead for the night.
Still, I was determined that something good was going to happen.
But as usual, Moose was not done with me yet.
I returned to the bedroom and slammed the baby gate shut directly in his face to prove a point. He didn’t care; but it healed a small, fragile part of my soul.
I turned off the lights, flipped on the TV, and climbed into bed. Except… something felt off. And not in an emotional/bad vibes way - I mean a very real, very physical sensation of something that should absolutely not be there.
I turned the lights back on and was immediately met with Moose’s latest attempt to send me into a mental spiral that ends with me living out my days in some sort of institution. Frankly, not the worst option at this point.
This McF**k Nugget had THROWN UP ON MY SIDE OF THE BED at some point.
Despite having the entire house to himself all day, which means having unlimited places to blow chunks wherever his little heart desired, he chose our bed. More specifically, MY side of the bed.
I’m not sure if this is a sign that he’s developing inappropriate feelings for me and is actively sabotaging my marriage out of jealousy… or if he simply lacks the brain function required to form a single normal, civilized thought.
Both are equally plausible.
And both are deeply concerning.
