5 Ways to Please Your Man! (Or, Not)

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Ways to Please Your Man Image via Shutterstock

I have come across a few “5 Ways to Please Your Man” articles recently which, more than anything, leave me rolling my eyes instead of feeling inspired. Here’s how the article suggestions would go down in my house…

Article suggestion #1: Greet him at the door wearing an apron and high heels when he gets home from work.

What really happensPut kids to bed early and assume the attire. The only apron you can find says, “I’m not aging; I’m marinating,” but it will do. And you haven’t worn sexy heals since before your first child was born, so you find yourself hunched over boxes, digging through basement storage wearing nothing but an apron. Your four-year-old sneaks out of bed, finds you and announces, “Eeeweee! Mom’s booty!”

Fast-forward to husband gets home late to find “just marinating” wife passed out on the couch, waiting for him with a bag of potato chips on her chest and one navy blue/one black high heel.

Article suggestion #2: Go to his work at lunchtime wearing nothing but a trench coat and high heels; surprise him in his office and lock the door behind you.

What really happens: Your 20 year old babysitter and 65 year old retired neighbor scratch their heads as you leave the house looking like inspector gadget in July. Kids whine, ” I wanna dress up like Perry the Platypus too!”

When you finally get to husband’s work, the gate security guard tells you he needs to search your jacket and bag before giving you a visitors pass. You turn cherry-red and make a beeline back to the minivan.

Article suggestion #3: Send him a sexy, seductive selfie. Bonus points for nipple.

What really happens: Google “permanency of text messages” and contemplate appropriateness of sending a sext to husband’s work cell. Nothing says sexy like locking yourself in the bathroom, experimenting with seductive pouts and poses while ignoring children’s banging on the door. And try not to slip in the puddle of pee surrounding the toilet. You finally decide to just not include your face.

Husband replies a few hours later to boob-pic: “Did Johnny get another spider bite? Looks bad this time.”

Article suggestion #4: Sit on his lap, look lovingly in his eyes and tell him he is your hero and the man of your dreams.

What really happens: As you attempt to sit on his lap, husband keeps moving over on the couch to make room for you. Finally you announce, “I’m trying to sit on your lap,” to which he replies “why? We have a big couch that we can all fit on.”

Eavesdropping two-year old gets great idea and claims territory on daddy’s lap. Two additional kids squeezed in-between you, so you lean across two little heads and whisper, “you’re my hero” into husband’s ear.

He scratches his ear and says, “Huh?” Oh, okay,” while switching the Netflix to the Superman cartoon.

Article suggestion #5: Make a reservation at his favorite restaurant and tell him half-way through the meal that you’re not wearing any panties.

What really happens: Hmmm…His favorite restaurant? You contemplate the $3/slice pizza place and the local fast-food place with the play area, but then remember you will be kid-free.

After the salad course, you lean close to your husband and whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.” He informs you of the spinach in your teeth and asks, “Oh, are we running low on clean laundry?”

You each have two glasses of wine, not enough to impair your driving, but enough to help you pass out with your mouth hanging wide open before your head hits the pillow…(right after you’ve gotten into your comfie draw-string PJs and back into your booty-covering undies.)

Related post: Why You Should Say Yes Tonight

Why You Should Say Yes Tonight

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It took you two hours to get the kids to sleep.

There were glasses of water fetched, imaginary flies pretend swatted, three stories read and everyone was tucked in –begrudgingly. But not for long. Because then there was the crying and screaming (you) and the ultimatums (them). The bribes. Empty threats were made and finally, they collapsed–all their ploys exhausted, to rest up for another day of killing you slowly.

It’s kind of a suck job, this whole mom business, but it is your suck job and you may as well not complain. So you were just looking forward to an hour or two of wallowing in quiet self-pity and ice cream, perhaps curled up with a book or even an episode of The Bachelor.

You thud down the stairs in your too small pajama pants, your t-shirt has spatters of paint and reads 5K Fun Run 2006. You can’t recall how you acquired this shirt but you sure as hell know you have never ran a 5k and if you had, it would not ever be classified, in your opinion, as something a person should do for fun.

As you traipse around the corner to the kitchen you think you hear the faint sound of the stereo playing in the family room. You grab the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer, slam the door shut with your rear end and grab a spoon. You are sitting cross legged, contemplatively at the kitchen table, fitness magazine (fuck you, irony) spread out in front of you when you realize that there is music playing.

And that it is definitely coming from the family room, where, it seems, someone has turned off the overhead lights. Hmmmm…

You can barely make out the flicker of candlelight from the shadows around the corner and you wondering if you should go and investigate (a seance?) when you hear the soft strains of melodic sex oozing from the record player.

Sade.

Your spoon stops in mid air.

Oh no. Think. Think. Think.

You consider a retreat back upstairs, a fake sleep at the table. You wish for narcolepsy, amnesia. Anything. But it is too late. He is already sauntering around the corner, wearing only his jeans and white undershirt.

He is holding two wine glasses.

He has spotted you and he is smiling.

“Well helloooo beautiful.”

You want to turn around and see if perhaps there is someone behind you to which he is actually speaking. But then he winks. At you.

And he speaks again, reaching out for your hand and peering at you in what you imagine he imagines to be seductive allure.

He gestures with his hands up and down his middle aged dad sized frame.

“Are you up for…this ?”

Shit.

* * * * *

It’s a struggle that must go back to the dawn of time.

Perhaps even back to those prehistoric cave dwelling couples in the Stone Age. She gathered the berries and hauled water and nursed Neanderthal Junior all day long. Neanderthal Man was busy hunting bison with blunt sticks.

He should have been exhausted. She was exhausted. But as soon as the baby was sleeping in his stone bassinet, here came her husband–hunching and smoldering, grunting the modern equivalent of “let’s get it on”.

All she wanted was to sit quietly, maybe bone up on some of the cave wall hieroglyphics. But her Neanderthal husband had a different plan. He wanted to bone her.

What’s a Neanderthal wife to do? What’s any wife to do? What will YOU do?

I know this is novel, but brace yourself: Why not go for it?

Before you even begin (put your hand down) I know you have a million reasons why not.

I’ll list a few here:

You’re tired. Perpetually tired.
You haven’t showered since yesterday (or in the case of Neanderthal Woman, since never).
You just put on your GOOD yoga pants.
He just WINKED at you.
You need to read this fitness magazine and eat ice cream.
The lights are on.

So many more. But let’s agree to let the Why Not’s rest for awhile.

You can always say No.

Don’t you say No a hell of a lot?

You are practiced in saying No.

No means No and should always be respected.

No is often our first response.

But, before we realize it, the no’s can add up into a long yoga pant drawstring of days and weeks. Months. Suddenly we are counting back on fingers, and toes…and with a sickening sense of worry, we can’t even remember the last time we had said YES to a roll in the hay.

And we worry even more that our husbands remember EXACTLY how long it’s been.

Or that they are keeping a log of our refusals, like this guy did.

Is that guy a jerk? Probably.

Are we any different than his wife? Probably not.

So, let’s just take a deep breath and loosen the drawstring a bit. Let’s explore what might happen if this time (brace yourself) you said yes…

1. You would burn calories. According to Mens Health, the average man burns 100 calories and the average woman 69 (hee hee) calories during the typical roll in the hay. Okay, so maybe you aren’t burning as much as if, say, you were sprinting a (not at all fun) Fun Run, but still far more than you would burn shoveling in the Ben and Jerry’s.

2. You would be happier. Making whoopee makes you giddy, psychologically. WebMD cites a study that surveyed the sexual activity and happiness of 16,000 men and women and found that sex “enters so strongly (and) positively in happiness equations” that they estimate increasing intercourse from once a month to once a week is equivalent to the amount of happiness generated by getting an additional $50,000 in income for the average American.” You might not be trading in the minivan for the car of your dreams this year, but you can still take the Mustang out for a ride if you know what I mean.

3. You would be healthier. Listen, girl, you’re a mess. You have no time for anything healthy—sure, you wolf down your daughter’s Flintstones vitamins and you floss the week before you go to the dentist. But a little ‘gland to gland combat’ is just about as good as any other move toward a healthier you. It has been proven to boost your libido, make you sleep more soundly, reduce your risk of heart attack and strengthen your pelvic floor muscles.Unless your pelvic floor muscles are already super. Which, in that case, disqualifies you from even reading this. I almost called this it Need kegels, will travel. Ahem. Moving on.

4. You will feel more connected. There’s probably a lot of science to back this one up, but let’s keep this more simple. Every woman I know says that while she might have a million reasons she didn’t have the energy to start having sex, she’s usually glad she did it anyway. Because afterward, you just…like each other. Of course you always love each other. Even when you say no. Even when he isn’t interested (isn’t he always interested?). Even when you are too tired. And even when you haven’t had sex since before the baby, unless you count that one time at his parents house when you told him you would do it if you didn’t have to take off any articles of clothing and didn’t have to move at all. And he was all like, sure, that’s cool. But when you do decide to ignore the Why Not’s, when you do decide to just go for it, you realize that more than loving him—you actually like him. And you like having sex with him.

That guy, he’s pretty okay, isn’t he? He would never keep a spreadsheet of your refusals, he understands you. He doesn’t care that your pelvic floor is as weak as a busted up hammock. He thinks you’re beautiful. Even when you are irrational or difficult (which is never). And he wants to do the horizontal hokey pokey RIGHT NOW.

And he wants only you.

Sometimes you just can’t muster the energy and sometimes you will say no. And that’s okay. Take the guilt and throw it out with the empty Ben and Jerry’s pint. But take the long list of Why Not’s and toss those out too. The whole thing needs to be redetermined and reconsidered.

If you wait for that small interval in which you have had enough sleep and feel enough energy and have enough time and you really really really want to…well, that time might never come.

And then you might never come.

So I’m here to say this: sometimes it’s okay to fake it until you make it.

(Except don’t fake IT. Make him work for that shit.)

* * * * *

You take the wine glasses from his hand and tell him that if he promises to never, ever wink again you will give it a go. And he wants to dance with you.

And dancing leads to kissing and kissing leads to the stairs and the stairs lead to your bedroom. And the bedroom leads to bow-chick-bow-bow.

And once you are in your bed—your legs layered in post coital bliss, you are still tired but you are glad. He touches his nose to your nose and smiles so closely you remind yourself to tell him tomorrow to trim his nostril hair. But boy, is he handsome. And he looks at you so happily. You are glad you ignored the Why Not’s this time.

You are just about to drift off into sleep when the bedroom door is flung open. The tell tale sound of child sized footstep approach the bed and you brace yourself for what comes next.

“Mama. I’m FIRSTY”, says your son as he pokes you in the neck.

You don’t even move or open your eyes as you speak.

“Honey?” You say sweetly to your husband.

“Are you up for… this?”

And then you drift quietly into a long and restful slumber.

10 Reasons Postpartum Sex Isn’t Happening

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mother-and-baby-resting

1. I don’t fucking FEEL like it. I mean, I want to… but I don’t feel like it. You know how sometimes you’re hungry and feel like you’re starving to DEATH, but then nothing really sounds good to eat? It’s kinda like that. I love you, and I want to sex you up, but my brain and my body are not exactly sparking on the same wavelength right now.

2. My boobs are sore. And I just got done feeding our kid out of them, so there’s that, too. But mostly, they’re sore and I don’t want them touched any more today. Maybe ever… But at least not right now.

3. One or both of us smells like baby vomit. And I might have spit up in my hair. Who can tell anymore? It might just be on the pillowcase, but regardless, it’s not the most romantic aroma.

4. When I asked for a back rub, I actually meant that my back is KILLING me and I’d like a massage. That was not code for “Please grope me and squeeze my ass.” If I could get just a little affection without being mauled, that would be great, thanks. I’m still a little tender in places.

5. There may or may not be a jungle growing downstairs and I don’t think you want to go there. Let’s just say I haven’t seen a tub of wax or a razor blade since before I went into the hospital.

6. The crying is about as sexy as a limp dishrag. Who wants to get busy with all this crying and snot happening every other 30 minutes? Oh no, not the baby. I meant ME. My after-baby hormones are pure insanity. Tears do not make a good lubricant.

7. I feel fat and mushy. No, I don’t mean I emotionally feel like I look fat and mushy. I mean I physically AM fat and mushy. I’m jigglier than a bowl of your grandma’s jello surprise right now.

8. Who’s idea was it to put the baby’s bassinet in OUR bedroom? I don’t know how anyone ever gets to kid #2 before kid #1 moves into their own room. I cannot even fathom trying to concentrate on having a good time while baby snores drift across the same room. Not. Gonna. Happen.

9. I’ve been on solitary diaper duty for the last 96 hours. Don’t make me start a star chart. Resentment is not an aphrodisiac.

10. I don’t want our children born 10 months apart, thank you very much. Can you blame me?

Related post: Dead Vagina Walking

The Five Stages of Parents’ Sex Life

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naughty_kids_0

There are people out there who claim their sex lives never changed after they had kids, and still others who say they started having sex more once their little ones were born.

I’m calling bullshit.

Now don’t get me wrong; I like a good roll between the sheets. But I’m hard pressed to believe anyone’s sex life remains unchanged or increases after kids enter the picture.

I just don’t see how that’s possible.

Unless you weren’t having much sex to begin with, of course. And if that’s the case, I am so very, very sorry…

Then again, if you weren’t having much sex before you had kids, you probably aren’t bitter like the rest of us at the drastic decline in “relations” that parenthood brings. Maybe that’s the trick – set the bar really low from the get-go so you always come out on top (so to speak).

Anyway, let’s stop ragging on the prudes and get down to the topic at hand, shall we?

Having kids kills your sex life.

Alright, so I’m no expert when it comes to relationships or sex, but it would seem there are 5 distinct phases couples go through in the bedroom.

1. Dating. Oh, how I loved this stage. You remember what it was like – every time you saw each other, it was all you could do to keep your paws off each other. I believe I spent the first 6 months of my relationship with my husband with JBF hair. What’s that, you ask? What’s JBF hair? Think about it: “Just Been…”

2. Living Together. This starts out really exciting – since almost every date you have leading up to the moment you move in together ends with sex, you naturally assume you will now be having sex every day.Bah-hahahaha!

3. The Pulling Of The Goalie. Also known as the “we’re trying” phase, this is a magical, magical time because, almost as soon as you ditch the birth control, you are magically transported back to the Dating Phase. It is glorious. For about a month. But the longer it takes your husband to knock you up, the more sex starts to feel like a (mostly fun) science experiment.

4. We’re Pregnant! When you enter this stage of your relationship, you will be on cloud nine. But then morning sickness will kick in, and let me tell you – nothing gets a guy in the mood more than hearing his partner yak several times a day. The good news is, you start to feel better by your second trimester. The bad news is, a lot of men aren’t overly interested in doing the deed once your belly starts to grow. Something about poking the baby (men like to flatter themselves, don’t they?).

5. We’re Never Having Sex Again Parents. Once you hit this phase, sex as you know it will never be the same again. Ever. You now have to schedule it around naps and bedtime, and when you do muster up the strength to do the deed, you have to pray like hell the baby doesn’t wake up . . . because the sound of crying or happy chattering is an instant mood killer.

Now, I’m sure there are more than just 5 phases in this whole cycle of love, but The Hubs and I aren’t there yet. My guess is that, once The Kid starts school a couple of years from now, this whole process will come full circle and The Hubs will start coming home for nooners again.

If I’m incorrect in this assumption, please do me a favor and keep that piece of information to yourself.

How to Still Have Sex Once You Are a Parent

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romance-sex

As I glanced over at the side of the bed, I realized we weren’t alone. I slowly removed my feet from his shoulders, buried my head under the covers, and died. 

Finding the time and opportunity for sexy time is one of the most complicated aspects of having kids, bar none. Gone are the days when you had to be in the mood. If the opportunity presents itself, you take it. No questions asked.

I fully believe children are equipped with sensors that alert them when something is happening that doesn’t involve them: sweets, important phone calls, paperwork, sheet work, etc. They know. Sometimes, it seems like they always know, knocking on the door at the absolute worst moments. It is a special skill they don’t even know they have.

It is challenging, and can have potentially devastating effects on your relationship. To combat this, I have comprised a list of a few ways to keep your relationship from becoming a victim of the tiny buzzkills:

1. Lower Your Expectations. I cannot even begin to stress this enough. My Granny, with Gramps for over 50 years, says the secret to a long and happy marriage is low expectations. She is absolutely right. No parent has the energy to go all out every time, especially after a long day of assisting tiny, helpless people with their endless needs. Crazy nekkidness and headboard banging are replaced by whispers, pillow muffling, and blanket coverings. Give that night an A+ if you both manage to get your underwear all the way off. Say goodbye to the regular red carpet treatment. Instead, watch him vacuum without being asked and make it work for you. (Someone please tell me I am not the only one who is turned on by unprompted housework!) Be ok with limited foreplay (occasionally). Be ok with quickies. Ignore the fact that your body misinterpreted your sexual arousal for a midnight snack and decided to drench you both in breast milk. Perhaps you can make that milky slip-n-slide work for you (Dinner and a show? badumching). Not a morning person? Become one. Do I like piña coladas? Yes. Getting caught in the rain? Sometimes. Making love after midnight? No, not really, but late night, half-awake nookie is better than no nookie at all. We may only get 5 hours of sleep if no one wakes up in the night. Totally worth it.

2. Location, Location, Location. We co slept for years: Four, sometimes five deep in our king-sized bed. Night-time privacy was almost nonexistent, so you learn to be creative. Adapt or die. Get some use out of the kids’ beds. They sure aren’t using them. A pile of clean laundry on the floor? Oh, yeah. Calling the twin in the office a guest bed is much more appropriate than the sex bed, but let’s be honest. Anyone with kids knows exactly why it’s there. Bathroom doors lock. Most closets lock. Go “Parking” in the garage. Have a camper? Bingo. This is the real reason why wireless baby monitors were invented: to make more babies… or at least get in some practice runs.

3. Learn to Multitask. Fully focusing on your nakedtivities could result in severe injury, escape, death, or at the very least mental scarring. This is why learning to mentally and physically multitask is of the utmost importance. Ears always listening for cries. One eye on the door, in case tiny silent ninjas decide to invade. I have forgotten to do this on multiple occasions. (Side note: If anyone knows a good child therapist, that information might come in handy later.) Then, there is co sleeping. Co sleeping takes sexual multitasking to level expert. Keep a hand on the toddler on the other side of the bed in case they move. Pretend you aren’t snuggled with an infant. You should, however, be aware that necessity multitasking does not come without risk. You can potentially become too focused on the minions and accidentally make another one. This may or may not be the reason why we have three kids.

4. Date Your Mate. Flirt. Hide in the laundry room for a few minutes. Slap dat asset when you walk by. Let your mate know that whatever they’re doing or wearing is working for you. Let’s be honest, finding the time for the deed AND the necessary foreplay is almost impossible. By creating an environment where subtle looks or whispers is the pregame, it saves time later. Do not hint. Speak your mind. No one has time or energy to pick up on your vague clues. If you are so blessed, find a babysitter that will watch the kids at their house. A quick run home after dinner is always worth the drive. Even if the kids are home waiting on you, having time to go out and recharge your parental batteries can make all the difference in your partnership.

5. Switch it Up. Let’s face it, after a while, sex can become routine. This is especially true after you have kids. You find something that accommodates your relationship as parents, and you do it until long after it quits working. Find something that also accommodates your relationship as people. Our son sleeps in a portable crib in our walk-in closet for this very reason. We had reached the point in our relationship where the kids were too central in our lives. They needed to get out of our room. Alas, not enough bedrooms for everyone, so the Man Cub got closeted. (Don’t feel too bad. He loves it in there.) But be spontaneous. If the kids are happy watching Frozen for the 20th time that day, “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see! [Don't] be the good girl you always have to be.” If spontaneity doesn’t work, try scheduling. You may be surprised how sexy anticipation of a scheduled meeting can be. Additionally, if you know what the night holds, you can wear the kids out a little extra so they’re more likely to sleep for more than 45 minutes.

6. Lie to your Kids. “No, honey, it’s ok. Daddy was just… tickling Mommy. Go back to bed… No, don’t get in, no… Can you hand me my pants?”

“Nothing, just… Doing our taxes.”

“No, Daddy isn’t in the shower with Mommy. Maybe he’s outside on your swing set. You should go look.”

“Your sheets were… dusty. So I washed them for you. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know why the baby lotion is in here. Maybe your sister moved it.”

“Obviously the monsters in the closet are just pretending to sound like Mommy. *pew pew* There. I killed them. Go back to sleep.”

7. The CTFO Method. Seriously. Chill the f out. Obsessing and stressing over sex is totally overrated. You had kids. Surprise, they changed your life. Get over it. Adapt. Be creative. Be spontaneous. Naked shuffle out of your comfort zone and figure it out. It’s ok to let the baby cry in the crib for a few minutes. CTFO about it. Cartoons are not the enemy. CTFO. Stick the kid in the closet and for the love of foreplay, CTFO. (In case you’re interested, there is a sister method for parenting called the CTFD method. It is Sassy Confessional approved.) Make it work. If it doesn’t work, CTFO and try again tomorrow… or some time in the middle of the night. Lower your expectations and, like Nike says, Just Do It.