"I wonder if we can get a spa membership at home." These words roll off Kevin's lips in disturbingly natural fashion.
We're in Kauai and just received a full service treatment at the resort's spa. It's a fabulous spa. Massages, whirlpool, outdoor showers, and every kind of pampering lotion/shampoo/conditioner you can think of. It's every girl's dream. I guess that's the problem with Kevin's comment. It's every girl's dream.
Sure, I know guys like massages too. But do I really want my man asking me to feel how soft and silky his skin is? Uh, no. I don't even want his skin to be soft and silky. If anyone around here's gonna feel smooth and smell pretty, it's going to be me. Yeah, I know men in the city get manicures. But Kevin's a man, and I like it that way. So sue me.
All I know is when we get back to Indiana, I'm telling him the spa's for women only. And if he tries to bring any of those lotions home with him, I'm chucking my razor and dabbing gasoline behind my earlobes.