On Saturday evenings my boyfriend and I play dress up. Some days I don a set of baby blue aviator goggles and a gray boa while Barney sports his brown jacket and antler hat, and we pretend we are Rocky and Bullwinkle. There is also a matching set of calculator and notebook costumes in the closet for days during which we are feeling especially studious. Perhaps my favorite getup is Barney’s cute Princess Cockroach – the pink dress and golden crown really bring out his plumage.
I really am lucky to have a boyfriend as understanding and patient as Barney. He can be wearing the most hideous outfit – see the swamp witch in the attic – and instead of complaining, he just chirps and whistles the chorus of Aqua’s Barbie Girl. Even when I’m feeling down and dressed as a bloody steak, his cat calls lift my spirits. Although I do wish he could do other humanly things when we play as sexy swimsuit model and macho lifeguard, as he is four inches from foot to crest, a single, powerful pelvic thrust would only crush the little guy. So instead of sex, I wear a red leather dominatrix outfit and he wears nothing at all.
It’s just as Mama said: Never skip an imaginative foreplay unless you want to end up in a cage.