My honeyboo does my laundry. Of course, he does his own too, but what strikes me as amazing is that for nearly four years, I have not done my laundry more than four or five times. Here I pause to think about what I have done right in my life to deserve such a wonderful person.


    […pause…]             Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh – I may have to wash my skivvies myself soon. I haven’t been a very nice person my whole life.

    Of course, I think of the obvious things I do in return. I thank Honeyboo profusely after he rescues me from going commando. I cook him nice meals. Sometimes, I even do the dishes. Maybe I make the bed too. Sometimes, I fold the laundry the day it’s dried! I know – I know; I deserve a trophy for being such an awesome girlfriend!

    The thing is, a while ago, it was always me doing laundry. And dishes. And taking care of the general household too. I got tired of doing everything, and set about teaching him how to do laundry, and ever since, I have been embarrassed at the wonderful way his laundry turns out. My clothes were never as fluffy, the detergent smell never lingered around till the next wash. He was just better at it. Somehow, I managed to make that sound super appealing, and he’s been proudly washing my delicates and outerwear ever since.

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    His friends think it is super hilarious – and such an un-manly thing. Not true! There is nothing sexier than a six-foot three-inch tall man pouring detergent into a washer. Actually, watching him sort the laundry, being extra careful with the delicates does beat the detergent pouring. Trust me gentlemen, it’s a beautiful thing for a woman to watch.

    Friends be damned, my man knows I appreciate his help.

    A while ago, I had a most delightful encounter with a lovely woman who has been married for ages. As we gabbed, she told me how, when her husband really wanted something badly, like an overnight trip somewhere, all of a sudden, the yard was spotless, items that needed fixing were “cured”. Such a cute idea! Her mischievous smile said she didn’t mind one bit. To her, once the ‘honey-do’ list was done, all was well; both pretend that neither is really aware of the other’s intentions, when in fact they are.

    Now, while I haven’t set pre-requisites to boys’ nights out, as I believe that both parties deserve a night off, I think that the secret to their success is that they both know what the other is up to but do it nonetheless. I doubt Honeyboo does laundry in the hopes that I will cook in return, or that he hopes I will let him go out with his buddies. I never take his help for granted, and there is always some treat for him as well. Indirectly though, it has an effect on my decisions that involve him – do I make him suffer through girlie movie night with me, or do I suggest he go out with his buds and reclaim his manhood?

    Most of the time, he opts to stay in and suffer through movie hell – making him the best Honeyboo in the world. Of course, it could be that he is tired from doing laundry and just wants to pass out on the couch. But I’ll take the other explanation instead: it sounds waaaaaay more romantic.           

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