I don’t listen to my married friends anymore when they complain about their sex lives. I just tune out and think of less boring things, such as Jay Leno jokes, the speeches of Senator Harry Reid, or the décor in my accountant’s office.
In fact, I refuse to listen to their droning, melancholy, self-pitying twaddle. If they persist, I’ll make an effort to change the subject. If that doesn’t work, I’ll turn on them. “Yes, you’re right. Your inability to bed your wife does make you less of a man. If I were you, I wouldn’t talk about it, lest others think you pathetic.”
Why am I short on sympathy? Do I lack fidelity toward my most particular companions? Quite the contrary. I have been an excellent source of practical wisdom. I have offered counsel general and specific, from the universally-effective, to the custom-tailored. I have provided many karats of sparkling insight and uncounted troy ounces of weighty guidance to bolster my mates’ precious mettle.
I have done everything in my power to help, short of performing, myself, the seduction of and foreplay with their wives, as a kind of warm-up act.
The fact is that most married men wouldn’t know sound boudoir advice if it bit them in a sensitive place. Or, at least, they won’t listen to it. It’s easier to piss and moan, and to wear their sexuality like a frayed, lead-lined old bathrobe.
To be clear, the friends of whom I speak are healthy men in their prime, married to healthy women in their prime. Neither age, nor infirmity, nor illness is the culprit. More likely, it’s sheer laziness. They say they want connubial communion. But they have forgotten a fundamental rule of manhood:If you want something, never expect it to be presented to you on a serving platter. Go get it. Hunt it down. Make it yours. Earn it.
When a man wants something - really wants it - he employs all his powers and skills. Even if that requires that we stoop to an unmanly stratagem, such as thinking, or prior planning, or subtlety.
There are no excuses. Yes, I know you’ve been married for years. I realize that you have busy lives, with work, kids and other irritants. Yes, it does take two to tango. So make the dance interesting and attractive to your wife. I’ve seen you rearrange and overturn your whole life in single-minded effort to make it to a golf tournament. You can do this.
Here, then, are some of the things a man can do to induce intercourse with his wife.
Banish the world: My friend Rodney regularly treats his wife Celia like a mistress. He arranges for babysitting, then meets Celia at hotels fine and motels not - for a weekend, or a night or a couple of hours of illicit sex.
When leaving home is not an option, he orders Celia out of the house and insists she spend some time doing something she enjoys - something that is not associated with domesticity and motherhood, such as shoe shopping, basketball with her friends, visiting an art gallery, or having a massage. Rodney makes dinner for their daughter, puts her to bed early, and my largest, most macho friend festoons the master bath and bedroom with candles, and prepares his wife a bubble bath.
He does this all the damn time. It works, all the damn time. Rodney is a very married man who remembers how to think like a single man.
Throw a changeup: Smart lovers, like smart pitchers, keep you guessing when they approach the mound. Keep throwing the same fastballs, you’re going to get shelled and sent back to the minors. I know too many married men for whom game day is a replay of the same day, all season long. Put some art and science into it! Study the game and its rhythms. Add to your repertoire and try some experiments. Change the pace and placement, and revel in the results.
I was on vacation with a girlfriend, in southern climes. We’d befriended the couple in the next cabana at our resort. Both psychiatrists, married for 15 years. After dinner and drinks, we’d retired to our respective lodgings. As my girlfriend and I undressed and eyed each other in predatory fashion, we heard a loud commotion from next door. After many minutes of incomprehensible noises, a clear, feminine voice piped, “Oh, my God! What the Hell was that?” The reply was inaudible. Then: “Well, do it again! Now!”
Embrace a little risk: Perhaps the best marriage I’ve ever seen is that of Dave and Marcy. They’ve been together a long time. Dave is a plump little man, and Marcy is a plump little woman. They are happier people than anyone else I know, and they have more conjugal relations than anyone else I know. It’s quite inspiring, really. A couple of years ago, they hit a dry patch. Both busy and distracted by work. The sex tapered off.
On a business trip, Marcy committed a faux pas. She got tipsy and made out in a jazz lounge with a much younger medical student who had attended her lecture. Later, she confessed, not without remorseful tears, to her husband. Dave, displaying wisdom and penetrating insight, did not react predictably. He understood that the student’s attention made his wife feel smart and sexy. He understood that the incident was harmless – and more than that, presented opportunity. He raised an eyebrow and accused Marcy (correctly) of the sin of horniness. He then stripped her, spanked her bottom, and applied additional “punishment” for her “transgression”.
They were immediately back in their groove. Now, when I dine at their home, if Marcy wears something low-cut and flirts with me when she pours the wine, I return the compliment - but always leave before coffee. Marcy and Dave are doing their thing. God bless ‘em.
I have no time for my sad-sack, whiny married friends. They are competent, even brilliant at many things in their lives, from work, to charity, to the playing field. They will research a stock investment, or a new car, or a golf club for weeks before they pull the trigger.
Sex seldom simply presents itself to a man, single or married. At least not the good kind of sex. Getting it consistently requires some combination of effort, ingenuity, inventiveness and panache.
Given that it’s the thing men profess to want above nearly all other things, you’d think they’d be prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve their objective.
Or, they could continue to bore me with their sad and lame complaints. I love you, guys. Really. But here’s a cookie and your pajamas. Would you like me to tuck you in, little fellas?
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So, who's got some more useful tips for the poor sods? Please share!