When I got married for the first time, I was in my mid twenties. I was much younger, in good shape, and had the time and energy to invest in myself because my life consisted of working and hanging out with my girlfriends and family. My nails and hair were always done, my legs always shaved. He always wanted to have sex with me.
We had our first child lying next to us as we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. I’d gained over fifty pounds during my pregnancy and decided to cut my long hair (that he loved) short. He was crossing off the days on the calendar until we could hump again.
That’s when we decided I’d stay at home and take care of our son. I was deliriously happy about that decision, and instead of getting up every morning to shower, do my hair and makeup, and put on some bomb outfit and heels for work, I wore velour jogging suits and played on the floor with my son. My nails no longer got done, and I got to shave my legs maybe twice a month.
He’d come home to us every evening and I was either already in my pajamas, one of his flannel shirts, or one of the comfy velour suits. My hair usually wasn’t done because I’d get spit up in it anyway.
And lo and behold, he still wanted to have sex with me!
Our family grew and so did my body with each pregnancy. My wardrobe dwindled down to jeans, sweatpants, leggings, and T-shirts because I hadn’t worked in so long. I wanted the easiest skincare routine possible and I didn’t have much time to exercise.
My days were spent keeping my three toddlers happy and our house from falling down. Any spare seconds were spent sitting down and relaxing, not glamming myself up.
Guess what? I still didn’t have to force my husband to screw me. He wanted to because he loved me and he didn’t really care that I’d changed over the years. In fact, he was a mature man who realized that our lifestyle had drastically changed, and he was ready for it. He never deserved praise or recognition for this.
I’ve seen some memes and videos from moms talking about how glad they are their husband still wants to have sex with them after they’ve gained weight, had kids, stopped having time to shave, or they can’t seem to get out of their pajamas for a few days.
Newsflash: Your husband or partner isn’t a damn hero for still wanting to have sex with you if you don’t look snatched all the time. This isn’t some gift or great characteristic. They don’t deserve a prize or a pat on the back, nor does this make them a good man.
Basically, if your husband is mentioning his sex drive is low because you aren’t putting the same effort into yourself, or you have gained weight, he is just a straight-up asshole.
The last time I checked, men change too. They gain weight, they stink, they love to come home and change into something more comfortable like ass-crack revealing sweatpants. They fart, burp, take epic dumps. They aren’t always dressed to impress, and can we talk about the ear and nose hair?
My point is, no one looks amazing all the time. You live with someone and have kids with someone and you get to see all of them — and it’s not always attractive.
And if you are the partner who is staying home with the children just trying to make it through, you know damn well there isn’t energy or the time to put effort into yourself each day.
Your body has changed, you don’t have time to clean up the hair like you used to, and who has time for a blowout when you are cleaning up a different kind of blowout everyday?
You are keeping your kids fed and happy, and some days a t-shirt or pajamas are as good as it’s going to get.
A true partner who loves you will get that and find that attractive. They won’t see the stubble on your legs; they will see what a fantastic parent you are.
They won’t care that you don’t look like you did on your first date; they will care that you are theirs.
A true partner will love you and still want to “tap that” no matter what stage you are going through, so let’s stop giving men praise for wanting to have sex with you when you wear their T-shirts, have breast milk in your hair, and have birthed their child.
No one deserves a prize for “still” wanting to fuck you. You are the damn prize. Remember that.
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