Probably the 4th or 5th most humiliating experience in my life happened Sunday evening… or tonight, if you will, since it happened about 3 hours ago as I write this.

Obviously things between S.O. and I have been a tad rocky. Well, more like sheer cliff with jagged granite rocks at the bottom rocky, but suffice it to say… rocky.

After many conversations, long heart to hearts and a couple of randy rounds of make up sex things were back on track for the most part. This weekend was rather lackluster in the family department with each of us spending hours to days on less than stellar terms with our offspring.

Julien and I haven’t spoken since Friday. That’s another story and quite frankly, the boy owes me an apology. But, again… another story and I’m digressing and all that happy crappy.

After some gardening and a few beers I wandered out to the garage to find S.O. working on his motorcycle, we began talking, kissing….

and anyone with half a brain can see where this was going.

The problem was that the door from the garage to the house locked from the inside. Great for security purposes but completely unpractical for our purposes.

S.O. is nothing short of resourceful and so he found a good, strong, neon, nylon rope and tied it to one door knob…. just across the garage was the door that led out to the backyard, that door locks from the inside so the solution was mostly obvious; tie one door to the other and voila’ no one walking in on our hanky panky session.

Unfortunately, the rope was about 3 feet too short and so an older, white, smaller, nylon rope was used to bridge the gap. And, for the record, S.O. should have gone with my original and most gorgeously tied slipknot.

Digressing… again, I know.

Two minutes later, under the dim glow of a blue light bulb and a neon light S.O. and I were in our own world leaned up against his work bench. I had happily reached the finish line and S.O. was well on his way when the door knob rattled… and the door opened, the white rope snapped and there stood my dad.

At 34 years old and S.O. at 45 we were caught having sex in our own garage BY MY FATHER.

Fortunately, having my background I had my pants up from around my ankles before S.O. could even reach down to grab his but at a moment like that each man… er woman for him or herself.

I don’t know if my dad knew to what extent things had gone on, but he had to know we were up to something. Der. But, what followed was a conversation in which S.O. was determined to only discuss the restoration of his motorcycle with my dad while actually using terms like:

“Lube her up” while shaking a can of WD-40

or

“It’s the shaft that is stuck…” while pounding on it with a hammer.

While I snickered and did a lot of staring at the toes of my sneakers.

S.O. and I spent the rest of the night barbecuing hamburgers and casting “oh fuck you!!!” glances and snickers at one another.

Heh. I guess I owe him…. something.