Assume that you have the ability to endow your S.O. with the necessary skills to professionally perform the actions you are thinking of. Whatever you choose, will be granted performed in a world class manner. What would be the the pinnacle treatment that they could perform for your enjoyment?
For me, I’ll take the gladiator treatment please.
I’ll start with a bath so hot that I can just barely sit in it. I’ll will not lift a finger to bathe myself, nor place cool towels upon my brow. I shall only move to accomodate her attentions, or to drink my glass of iced mead. I will be bathed, my hair washed, and massaged. Once I’m relaxed, She will trim my beard, and shave the necessary portions of my face with hot oil and a straight razor. Lather rinse repeat please. Once out of the tub, I will receive another full body shiatsu style massage until I am approximately the texture of Jello.
Feast. Food prepared by the loving hand of my S.O. who has become a professional sushi chef, as well as an expert in Mediterranean grilling.
Sex. (she will need no extra skill here of course)
Yes! And then get up quietly the next day without waking me, dress and feed both the kids, and take them away somewhere for 24 hours, leaving me alone in the house with a good book, some snacks, and the TV remote.
I guess I’m spoiled. There’s nothing I could wish for my husband to do that he wouldn’t already be doing. He appears at just the right moment with coffee, knows when I’ll be dying for a Diet Coke, and faux-braids my hair when he realizes I’m stressed out.
Ok - the best thing my SO could do for me would be to let me know how I could reciprocate his wonderfulness.
ETA: Guess I sort of muffed the premise of the OP. If I could have him do something professionally, I guess it would be to figure out how to actually braid my hair, rather than just twisting it around into a weird mess (a highly effective form of stress release for me).
YAY. I am not the only one. My husband and I no longer live together but he still comes by three times a week to bring the mail in as he knows I will never collect it.
Arrange, ON HIS OWN, for a babysitter, tell me “We’re going out!” take me out for a fantastic dinner and then to a hotel with a two person jacuzzi and a supply of Ben and Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. And then tell me we don’t have to go home for days and days, not till I’m ready (I assume I’d start to miss the children at some point)
