a longing for the unattainable

I have a thing for Paul's belly button.

Don't ask me why, but for some inexplicable reason, I find it irresistible. I simply must touch it. I don't want to tickle it, mind you. My intentions are completely honorable. Sort of. All I want is to rest my index finger nicely over it.

I know. Weird, right?

Paul doesn't like it. I can't imagine why. Who on earth wouldn't love having their belly button accosted by a loving (and slightly quirky) wife?

Well, over the years Paul has kind of gotten wise to me. He'll see my adoring sideways glance in the general direction of his belly, and catapult himself to the other side of the room. This should probably hurt my feelings, or maybe I should think hey, Paul doesn't like this so how about rubbing his back instead, but really it just motivates me.

Today, for example. We're in the office/kitty palace, and he's about to leave for the store. I really, really want to touch that charming belly button, but I know I have to be stealthy about it, so I sidle up all cute like, and then look at the hem of his t-shirt. I get a concerned look on my face, and say hey, let me just check something here.....

"ANDREA BOEREM STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!!!"

"What? What do you mean?" I bite my lip for some extra cuteness. It doesn't work.

"YOU KNOW I HATE THAT!!!! I SWEAR TO YOU, ANDREA BOEREM-"

I make my eyes all big and innocent. "What? What do you swear?"

"I SWEAR IF YOU TOUCH MY BELLY BUTTON, I WILL PIN YOU DOWN AND GIVE YOU THE WORST RASPBERRY PINKBELLY NOOGIE OF YOUR LIFE!!!! OF YOUR LIFE!!!!!"

I think he's bluffing.