8 Signs my Husband Needs Sex
It was time. I could tell it was time because Henry — who usually traverses the house with the stealth of a Native American tracking
It was time. I could tell it was time because Henry — who usually traverses the house with the stealth of a Native American tracking
MY RACY ADVICE ABOUT HOW TO HAVE GOOD SEX! It might’ve been a week ago, but I suspect it’s longer. It’s definitely happened since Valentine’s
Asshats. We’ve all been in love with at least one. Haven’t we? If you haven’t, do me a service and lie. What defines an Asshat?
Dear Abby had her hands full with this query: Dear Abby: I have been married to a wonderful man for 30 years. Our marriage may
Marriage advice from a Wife Dominatrix: Last weekend I wanted to eat my husband alive. His eyes were more cerulean than a ‘Sconset sky on
I just discovered Scandal on Netflix. Yes. I know. I’m coming (pun intended) to the Oliva Pope/President Fitzgerald party waaaaaay late. But I’ve come to
Here I am with my first prom date. It turns out I was the only girl he DIDN’T kiss. I’d had a crush on him
There’s a great article by Laurie Watson, MA in Psychology Today citing 4 reasons your husband does not want sex that have nothing to do
I tried to open my bedroom window and it wouldn’t budge. Someone had locked it. I glanced confusedly at Albert. This is when we both heard my father’s Clint Eastwood-esque voice from the nearby porch, “Shannon,” he said, “you’ve slit your own throat.”
In bed I’m soft. Demure. Enticing as Brigitte Bardot in And God Created Woman, with doe-like come-hither glances and marzipan hair. I’m as tremulous as
I drink wine. Every day. Usually two glasses and lately it’s red. Henry eats bread. Every day. Sometimes at 2 in the morning. And lately
Marital Silliness The other night I stopped Henry in the midst of our mating ritual. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m kissing you,” he
“Henry. Henry, wake up! We have to have sex.” “No, we don’t!” “Yes, we do. Now come on.” “I can’t.” “If the musicians on The
I met my friend Mistress Justine for lunch on Friday. That’s not her real name, but it should be. She and her husband, Raoul (also
Confession: Clare, Henry, Oscar the Handyman and I are sick of each other. Clare’s been home from school with the flu for a week. What
It hath come to pass that I am madeth aware, yet again, of a marital sex epiphany. Henry will, from time to ignominious time, refer
He Had Me at his Handlebar Mustouche The other day a diminutive man who placed second in The World Beard & Moustache Championship (in accordance
In honor of my little brother turning 40 today I’m reposting his love/life philosophies. The gift that keeps on giving. I love you, sweetheart! My
Trader Joes. That bastion of affordable wasabi peas, almond milk and hemp oil. That innovator of quality ingredients for everyday low prices. That hire-er of
Sunday Night. Midnight. Me: Henry, can you get out of bed and set the house alarm? Him: You were the last one in bed, you
This is the latest in my Husbands and Wives Series Me: “Let’s get a dog.” Henry: “We already discussed this. Dogs are too expensive. You
This is the latest in my Husbands and Wives Series: Me: Henry did you know that you spend about 85$ a week on buying salads
The latest in my Husbands and Wives Series. Me: “Henry. Are you awake?” He. Nothing. Me: “Henry. Are you awake?” He. Resting heart rate of
Yes. An inflammatory headline. Since the recent Steubenville rape case and excavating and writing about my own experience as a victim of attempted rape when I
The Setting: The Peninsula Hotel lounge in Beverly Hills. Chic. Cloistered. Peopled with gorgeous women of a certain age (35+). My dear friend Glenna and
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