My husband thinks I’ve had sex with Axl Rose.
As enticing as that concept is…
…I know better than to give in to my (apparently) deepest desires to bump uglies with guys like Axl who “sing” for bands like Guns N Roses.
In fact, whenever Axl’s whiney screams start pealing from the car stereo, I automatically change the station.
I find Guns N Roses music to be grating to my eardrums & soul, and there’s something about the lead singer himself that makes me want to punch him in the face.
The first time Husband witnessed me do this, we were newly dating and he asked me why I changed the station. I told him I don’t like the music. He got all quiet and said:
I’m guessing each time you all witness someone change the radio station because they dislike a band, you assume they, too, bedded the lead singer.
It has been over 12 years since that first question/accusation, and he still holds it tight like something he knows about me that I many deny now, but will absolutely confess on my deathbed.
Mind you, had I knocked boots with AR back in the day, I’m guessing my vagina would have blackened like an overcooked sweet potato and fallen out of me by now. So far, all is in tact. Which I see as evidence of my non-groupieness.
But if Husband wants to think he’s some Super Sleuth, and believe I am so desirable that scores of men (including Rock Stars) have vied for my affections, so be it. If he has some fantasy in his head that I’ve lived a life more thrilling than Grew Up, Worked Through College, Dated a Couple Guys, Met Husband, then so be it.
Sure, I find it the total opposite of a compliment that he thinks I’d ever let Axl Rose see me in my Birthday Suit. But if it adds a little mystery to our marriage, if it makes me seem a little more exciting and alluring to my man, I’ll wear the faded black t-shirt.
But there’s no way in hell I’m listening to that crap on the radio.