Breaking the Rules of Sex & MarriagebyBatsandGlamour©
My home phone has a feature called "Call Intercept." When a call comes in without a phone number attached, it assumes I want to screen the call. The caller gets a message alerting them to this function, and instructing them to follow a sequence of steps if they are to have any hope of reaching me. If they follow the instructions carefully and I want to talk to them, they can get through.
Coincidentally, my wife, Veronica* has a similar feature, called "Sex Intercept." Whenever the conversation, well – my conversation, turns to sex, the subject matter gets screened in her brain before it has time to process any information. It then follows a path similar to the child's game, "Mousetrap," where the marble goes from one crazy path to another, and the mouse in finally trapped. Except in this case, the talk of sex follows a bizarre path until it comes out of her mouth as "It's going to be 60 degrees today, do you think the kids should wear long or short sleeves?"
* I have changed my wife's name to Veronica for this article, to save my life, or at the very least one testicle.
Here's a perfect example:
ME (Speaking in appropriately hushed tones, lest anyone within 2 miles can hear)
Veronica, do you think we could get the kids to go to bed on the early side of midnight, so we can have some time to…and perhaps we can even trim your…
VERONICA (Gazing at me at though about to ask me to recite the Magna Carta)
I saw that Kohl's is having a sale on socks for the kids, and they only have 3,000 pairs. I think I'll run over there tomorrow. I have a coupon.
Has this ever happened to you? Has this ever not happened to you?
This is what I call one of the Rules of Marriage. I can't really number them because there is no order of importance. They're all important and equally bewildering. What intrigues me is how many feedback letters I receive detailing the very same trials and tribulations that I go through. Even when we go out with another couple for dinner or other occasion, there is a similar convention. The guys talk with each other first about sports, business, etc. Then they move on to the important stuff. Sex. They don't get enough of it. What they get is not good enough. It's enough to drive them to a girlfriend. In the meantime, the ladies are busy discussing children's activities, hair coloring, how bitchy the neighbor is, school, the PTA, their figures and generally everything and anything that would motivate me to order another drink – or two.
Now of course I'm generalizing and do not mean to offend. I've received many emails from women who claim just the opposite is true. They are dying to discuss sex with their husbands, who are about as interested in it as they are in an IRS audit. But discuss sports with them and hey, now were talking.
Maybe, this is an idea, these wives should combine the conversation to attract and maintain their husband's attention.
WIFE (Light in her eyes)
HUSBAND (More interested in his last fart)
WIFE Do you think you might want to bring your ball over to my playground tonight?
HUSBAND (Faintly stirring)
WIFE I said, do you think you could get your ball in my glove tonight?
HUSBAND My ball? Your glove?
WIFE Yes, dear. Do you think you might want to score a touchdown tonight. Hit a home run. Whack a slap shot. Win a set. Kick a goal into my net. Put your ball through my hoop. Am I coming in honey? Do I have to dress like an umpire and have John Madden announce the plays?
HUSBAND I understand what you mean. I'm not stupid you know.
WIFE (As if speaking to a four year old)
I know that, baby. I just want to be with you tonight. It's been…how long has it been?
HUSBAND How long has what been?
WIFE (Patience wearing thin)
How long has it been since we've been together, dear. I can't remember the last time…
HUSBAND (Still fully immersed in his fog)
WIFE (In the "I've had enough" mode)
Oh, for Christ sakes, John. The Pope gets more sex than I do. When is the last time we fucked. And when I say that, I'd mean the last time we had sex when it took more than 60 seconds and both of us had orgasms. Maybe one of us even stayed awake for two minutes afterward without the TV going on?
All right, all right. What are you getting so upset about?
This doesn't sound familiar, does it?
My friends, you have just encountered one of the Rules of Marriage. This is the Alternate Universe Rule. It means that when one of you is discussing sex, or wants to discuss sex, or even has the faintest notion of something sexual, the opposing spouse's thoughts are 1.2 million miles away. You might as well be discussing life on Mars – hence the name.
This is just one of the many rules of married sex that I've encountered in my brief (no jokes, please) lifetime. There are, of course, others. Or there'd be nothing to write about and we wouldn't be having all this fun, would we? I'd like to share some of my Rules of Marriage with you. I'd like to hear about yours. I'd like some answers. I'd like some guilt-free ice cream. I'd like, just once, for the store to have the advertised special in stock. Let's stick to one fantasy. Here are some of my rules, and the penalties for not following them. Please keep in mind that these are tongue-in-cheek rules. What I'm getting at without a lot of subtlety is that these seem to be the rules of marriage. It seems that everyone I know that is married for any length of time faces them.
My goal is to give you a chuckle as you read about with what we've all gone through and are still experiencing. But more than that, I want to know why we have to follow these rules at all. Maybe, and it's a big maybe, by identifying them and identifying with them, we can all conclude they should be changed. For the one married couple who reads this and says, "yeah, that's us, we should change that…" this article has been more than worth the effort.
This might as well be called the Routine Position Rule. You and your mate are having sex. You must do so in one of a very few prepared, familiar and totally overused positions. You're on top, they're on top, you're leaning over to give head, they're leaning over to lick pussy. Missionary. Legs wrapped around, legs on shoulders, legs being spread and held by the ankles. Doggie. Spooning. Take your pick, you're never going to get all of them anyway. But never, never, be so bold as to introduce a new formation. Forget about turning them over to lick from the base of their neck to the tips of their toes and every spot in between. Forget about sitting them in a chair to get a good position for oral sex. Don't even get me started about blindfolds and silk scarf hand tying.
If you try and introduce these new elements during the course of sex, you'll be met with resistance that makes Saddam Hussein look like Pee Wee Herman. You'll face more bewilderment than a nudist in Alaska. You'll hear more stammering than Pat Robertson at a gay rights parade. You'll…you get the picture. You spouse's inner referee will call a foul – improper formation, and you'll be penalized. Which means that they'll stop what you're doing – I call it a flow killer – and try and figure out what's going on. They won't know what to do, how to move, where to go. You've upset their routine. "What is this?" they ask themselves. "I didn't read this in the program. This is nowhere in the instruction manual. I'm in uncharted waters here. Oh God, what do I do?" All this because you've rolled them over on their side, mind you, not pulled out a leather riding crop.
Does this state of confusion mean you can only stick to the same routine every time? Imagine going out to dance and listening to the same song, dancing to the same steps over and over. Boring after a while, isn't it?
I think the antidote to this rule is one of two methods, depending on your spouse. The first one is to let them know in advance that you'd like to try something new. That way they can ask any questions, cope with any gut reaction fears they have before you have to stop in the middle. The second method is just to do it. Just make that different move, touch a new area, pull out that bottle of lube and the vibrator. Then, when their eyes open wide with fear and disbelief, look them straight in the eyes and utter in your most reassuring voice, "Don't worry honey, I won't hurt you…you'll enjoy this."
If I hear "that's an exit, not an entrance" when referring to anal sex one more time, I'm going to vomit. Please understand that some women love the idea and act of anal, and most men that I know would love to get a shot at her tight little rosebud. And I'll tell you something else. Having a lady lick your ass or insert her finger just a little when you are about to cum is…let me wipe the sweat. Is it dirty? Is it wrong? Is it against every moral covenant and every religious belief? Good God, I hope so. What fun would it be otherwise. I'm not talking about doing it in church. Although…
And yet, those who are against it are truly against it. You haven't been looked at like a grotesque alien until you've suggested anal to the wrong girl. And if that girl is your wife…you may be going to Mickey D's for dinner tonight, pal. Conversely, you tell a straight shooting, man among men type that you want to touch his ass and you might as well be asking him to save a table for you at a gay bar. You've just insulted his manhood, everything he holds dear. A guy who likes his ass licked or touched? He's thinking, "She must think I'm gay. Maybe I am gay!"
Oh, please. There are far too many stunted individuals out there. It doesn't make her a blasphemous slut, or him gay if he's not. But, violate the Backfield in Motion rule and you may be considered a pervert for the rest of your life. Not that it's a bad thing in my book.
Talk them down from their ledge. That's my advice. Set the mood, choose the time, loosen up with a drink – anything that helps. But don't let this rule prevent you from making the other person feel good or trying something you've wanted for a long, long time.
This may be a shock to many of you. It knocked me off my feet. There are actually, I'm not kidding, men who don't want to get head, or go down on their wives. Who on earth would deny themselves the pleasure or getting their knob polished? Never mind that, can you imagine never tasting her sweet juices? Never feeling her shiver and hear her moan as your tongue delivers the final blow and orgasm rips through her? Is there anything on earth more erotic than to have your face between your loved one's legs? God knows, I'd do it at the grocery store if I could. Yet there are women whose husbands wouldn't think of it. Why, why, why? Is it religious? I'm telling you girls, marry a Jew, we were taught to please our women. Have you ever seen a rabbi without at least eight kids?
Seriously, wouldn't the world be a far better place if we were all thinking about giving and receiving head more often? I should run for office on that platform. No women should be respected so much that a guy doesn't want to get head from her. I respect my wife plenty, get head all the time.
Get this straight. Respect. Blowjobs. Two different things. You'd be denying her a hot, erotic experience for…what? Still and all, there are those who just don't get into it. I don't get it. I love it more than…life itself. But, you can't force someone else to like it, or even to do it. If you try, you'll surely go to hell. See you there.
Yes, this principle derives its name from the beloved musical, Oliver. When the orphan Oliver has the audacity to ask for more food when he's hungry, he's brought out on the cobblestone streets and sold. For those of us with, shall we say higher than normal desires, we sometimes feel like Oliver. Yes, we want sex more than every week or two. What ingrates we are. How insatiable. Maybe we'll be brought out the street and sold. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Is it my imagination? You fall in love with someone and you can't wait to rip each other's clothes off whenever it's possible, and sometimes when it's not. Then years go by, the pressures of career and a family, time constraints, health. And you get used to each other. The animal attraction gives way to a deeper love and affection and your needs and desires change and subside. It's only natural.
Pardon me, but the hell it is. You may be used to her. You may think you've done it all, it's all a routine. But I can guarantee you that somewhere inside her is a women who'd like to be bent over the sink and have the stuffing fucked out of her. And not just now and then. It goes both ways. He may have aged. He may have a gut and his hair may be a memory, but if you think for one moment that he wouldn't like to be force feeding his cock into willing lips, or slamming his pipe like a master plumber, you'd be dead wrong. Didn't anyone see the movie, "Unfaithful?"
It's actually frustrating. You make love, and instead of basking in the glow – if it was good, you say to yourself, "I probably have to wait another week or two before we do this again…"
I had a girlfriend in college that loved sex almost as much as I did. We'd do it at night and again the next morning. And even after that, I remember thinking, "What stuff do I have to endure today until we can be back in this bed tonight doing it again?" You think that's only for college kids? You haven't seen the feedback letters I have. Believe me, many long married adults feel the same way. It's their spouse that doesn't.
Don't live like that! Be like Oliver and ask for more. You shouldn't have to beg for more because, believe me, it's out there for you. I am not advocating infidelity at all. I'm recognizing the truth. If your spouse reads this and recognizes that her or she should please you or someone else might, I don't think that's all bad. I think that realization can reduce infidelity. Remember, there's a cork for every bottle. Don't let someone else plug yours.
If you think I'm not talking about taxes here, you're right. I'm talking about those angry folks who, in their frustration over not having enough sex, or enough good sex at least, have decided that the best course of action is to punish their spouse by withholding sex. I've done it myself!
You're angry with your spouse over not having enough sex, and when they finally do want it, you're going to show them! You'll let them know how it feels not to have sex when you want it! They can wait two weeks, a month? Well, you can wait even longer! There – how does that feel?
In retrospect, this is not the wisest choice. The fact is, it makes things much worse, exacerbating your desperation. I have a better idea.
You want to make them pay? Let them know what they've been missing. If you're a girl, give them the blowjob of their life, but not enough to cum until them fuck you. Stick your pussy in their face and stay there until they make you cum. Moan, groan and call their name like they're the emperor of the bedroom. Do things you've never done before. Make them realize what they've been missing. If you're a guy, make her cum again and again if you can. Take command. Lick her from top to bottom. Bend her over the couch and fuck the stuffing out of her. I'm being crude here, I know. Don't you just love it? Don't penalize them, make them beg for more, then penalize them. You'll feel a lot less frustrated and a lot more gratified that way, believe me.
Remember making love for hours? Remember kissing until your lips were chapped, your heart beating wildly? If you're a guy, don't you remember having an erection for so long it permanently creased your pants? Where did all that go?
It seems as though there's an unwritten law that sex can only last for 15-20 minutes or so. Is that because it's the length of a typical half-time? Or the length of two commercial interruptions? I've seen my wife talking to a friend on the phone for an hour about stuff that can and does literally put me to sleep. I mean, I can tape record this conversation and play it on a subway, and no one will be awake at the next stop. Sleeping gas would not work this well. But sex? Hot, sweaty, steamy sex? 15-20 minutes. Tops. Including kissing, foreplay, oral, and intercourse – the entire meal from appetizers to desert. How can this be? I've had good bowel movements that lasted longer.
The only reason I can think for this dictum is that we're talking about two tired adults having obligatory sex at the end of a long day. I swear, my wife practically has to prop her eyes open with toothpicks sometimes in an effort to stay awake at 11:00pm for our 15 minute rendezvous. Under these circumstances, what do you think the odds are of handcuffs, pornos or massage oil? Zip. I swear, I'm sure that my wife is only doing it because she knows about my one-week rule. If we don't have sex for more than a week straight, I start to get grumpy. I start acting out. In my mind, I'm not attractive any more, I'm not loved. Can you imagine how I feel after two weeks? I'm practically out on the street advertising for sex. It's true. I'm not a joy. My wife is no dummy, so she does her best to stay awake, especially when we approach that week deadline.
But why does it have to be this way? I will admit that on those rare occasions when both kids are out of the house at midday we usually take advantage of it. But I'm talking about real time, not measured in minutes. Time to have some fun, get kinky, and rough it up if we want – stay naked a while.
I am going to claim here and now that without those times you can not have a truly satisfactory sex life. Bold claim, I know. But what I'm talking about is a situation where you can be alone for a while. If you're just married, have no kids, or grown kids who are out of the house, you don't need to get away. But you still need to make time.
So to spell it out, if you are having those 15-minute sessions almost exclusively, make a plan to get away, or get time alone with no phones, TV or any other distractions. Or, surprise your lover with the time alone. Just do it. It will make a difference.
Why would a married woman, whose husband has fucked her so many times that he can find everything on her with his eyes closed – and usually does – want to do something to make herself more attractive to him? Why would she waste good money on some skimpy outfit? He's going to look at it, smile and take it right off anyway. If you're lucky. What a waste of money. Why would she want to try a new perfume? Why would she do something so radical as to buy a sex game online, or even shock him by shaving her pussy? He loves her just the way she is.
She's seen his gut 4,000 times, why should he get in shape for her now? Yeah, the flannel shirt has a few holes and stains, so what? And why should he shave on the weekend, it's his time to relax, right? Appearance isn't everything for pity's sake. He doesn't have to try and look good anymore, he's married.
It just strikes me as remarkable that people can take no notice of their appearance, their clothes, their grooming, and then wonder why their spouse doesn't seem to notice them anymore. Knock, knock – am I getting through?
Please do not misunderstand me. I would take an average looking, sweet, fun loving gal who loves to laugh to bed over some stuck up supermodel any day. No contest. I'm not saying that looks are everything, because they sure are not to me and my wife is very good looking. You hear that, honey?