Eighty Twenty

Well I may be on a healthy lifestyle transformation, I still tell stories. So please join me in my writing journey as well. 

“I’m gonna marry you.” 

“Cool your heels. We’ve only been seeing each other a few months.” I release myself from his embrace.

“I know but when a man knows, he knows. You are my eighty.” He pulls me back into his chest.

“Your eighty? What is that?”

He explains, “In any relationship, you are lucky to get eighty percent of what you want in an person. Yet, some people take that for granted and go looking for that twenty percent that they think is missing. Classic love story. People know what they got at home; they just think they’ll never lose it. So the eighty twenty rule gets a lot of people in divorce court.”

As I dress, “That’s an interesting concept. Really makes a person think.”

“Can’t you stay? You keep promising.”

I grab my keys and purse. “We’ll see.”

I pull up to my five thousand square foot home and park in my four car garage next to my Infiniti QX 56. I get out of my Audi A6 and walk into the kitchen where my twelve year old daughter and seventeen year old son enjoy the dinner their father has made for them.

He kisses my cheek. “How was your day at the boutique?”

“Quiet.” I sit at the table as my husband prepares my plate.

“I worked from home today so I could cook for you guys. I know I’ve been busy.”

After dinner, he draws me a bath and treats me to a massage. Then, we have ten minutes of the most boring sex ever. He still has no idea how to please me. At least twenty percent of the time.