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I'd be the proudest man on earth if I had the honour of calling her my wife. But she is my SO. And I will tell you (and anyone else who cares to listen--well, read) that if the time comes when she does grant me the honour of becoming her husband, I'm going to change in three ways:
Jack, diddley, and squat.
And anyone who has a woman like my SO and doesn't want to romance her every moment they have together is a fool.
And, for some (not all) of you characters out there who still think the way the OP seems still to think, I've got a news flash for you that I forgot to mention in my own earlier post:
Somebody worked their shapely little fanny off to make your dwelling into a home . . . and it doesn't seem to have been you. And often as not that somebody may have been holding down a job of her own outside the house. So what is her reward for making that dwelling into a home? Her husband providing things, lots of things, and then gnashing and wailing on an Internet forum because she won't do the bedroom thing on demand, or at least at (his) will.
Does it ever cross your minds that you could have (and should have) done an awful lot more to help make that dwelling a home? No, gentlemen, I don't mean adding a room or knocking down a wall to broaden a room or installing a fireplace or any of that stuff. I mean, what have you been doing when you walk through the door at the end of those oh so long, lugging, lugubrious days when you've fought yet another battle of wits with the unarmed to a draw and you've clawed, crawled, and crashed your way through yet another clusterfornication on the freeway, the highway, or the backstreets to get there?
Because the minute you walk through that door, what you ought to be feeling is that it's time to put the damn world away, a-way, and remind yourself of what made it worth it to fight those battles every day. Actually, not what---who.
There she is, gentlemen. That's the girl who agreed to spend the rest of her life with you. That's the girl who gave you her heart and accepted yours. That's the girl who looked at you with love and longing in her heart and, yes, once upon a time, her loins, because she thought you were looking at her the same way.
Once upon a time, you did look at her that way.
Somewhere along the way, you didn't just lose the plot, you might have thrown it away without even realising you were doing it. Somewhere along the way, you let the world possess you firmly enough that you forgot, if you ever knew, that even this addlepated, chameleonic, cacophonous world can't destroy what matters most in your heart if you refuse to let it do so. And you began coming back to a place to hang your hat, toss your coat, plant your exhausted carcass in a big sofa or chair, and expect the world inside that dwelling---by now you probably couldn't call it home, sadly---to cater to your every last whim while somehow managing to resist the little soft currents of rejuvenation that a real home, the one you forgot to do your part in nurturing and enhancing, blows into your system the second you open the door and begin to step through.
You see now a wife/partner who's likewise wiped. Hungering for something she seems to have lost long enough ago. Hungering for the guy who used to come home and look at her as if she was a gift from God, the guy who used to come home and want nothing more than to wrap his arms around her wherever she was and tell her, meaning every last syllable of it, that even if he'd had a lousy day, the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, it was worth it because here's the real reason he did it, and by the way, honey, how's about I kill the lights, light some candles all around, kill the tube, put on some music (quick aside: If some of you guys are waking up at last, you might think about rushing out and buying whatever copies you can find of classic bossa nova---Stan Getz, Astrud Gilberto, Jobim, Almeida, Wanderley---I guarantee it: there may have been no more intimately romantic or sexy music ever to walk the planet---Whistler) that reminds us why we got together and stayed together in the first place, and let's make dinner together, and sure I'll dance you between the counter, the burners, the fridge, and the pantry, and back, while we do it, and yes I did say we, I know a few things in the kitchen and if I don't I'm here to learn or re-learn from my lady and who cares how long it takes to get dinner done because we're doing it together . . . and by the way, darling, there isn't a woman alive who plays in your league in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house . . . and, yes, I'll feed you gladly, you just sit down there, relax, let me finish putting this together, and we'll just feed each other, we'll stay close, and by the way I hope you don't mind if I took the phone off the hook because there are priorities here . . . namely, you and, oh, by the way, who says the bedroom is the only room in the house where it's appropriate to make love and, yes, I said make love---sex is easy . . . making love is something deeper . . . and by the way thank you, darling, for making sure I never forget that . . .
And I don't mean just once in awhile to break the monotony.
Because no matter how hard her day was, all she needs is a mate coming through the door as if that's the place he most wants to be, and any and all (well, most) exhaustion will dissipate post haste. Because all she wants is love. All she wants is you. It isn't exactly that difficult to romance her when you come home. She doesn't really think it's exactly that difficult to love you or romance you.
Not until you quit being that mate.
And if you're dumb enough to quit being that mate, if you're dumb enough to start putting it into terms of provision, things, possessions, toys, you name it, you're going to lose something on which you can't put a material or dollar value. Something you can't replace.
Um..... the poster was not talking out his/her butt, he/she was making a point. You take the time to HELP others. To WORK hard. But when it comes to your wife all you say is WTF the Kenmore washed the clothes? Try satisfying your wife and her quality!!!
Seriously? Think about what you are saying to her and about her!!!! How about a "thanks honey, I love you." Not a WTF? You belittle your wife and what she does from your words in this thread. If you haven't realized that from pretty much every woman that is posting TELLING you, that you need to put forth a little effort, you will both get a lot out of it.
Excuse me...with due respect... how do you know I don't and what lead to my attitude...
Women (usually) must be emotionally connected to their partner, and that can be a weak area for men - thus the falling out.
I would think women would have an emotional connection to their spouse, even if there is a lack of interest in sex. IMO, without the sex, what you have is a friendship. Well that and a contract that is bound by matrimony that will hold up in a court of law. I actually agree with the OP to some extent. Unless sex actually feels bad to the woman for some reason, be it medical or emotional, than what's the harm in being intimate and sharing that with your spouse.
I understand that some people think this way, but what's the point? I mean, if your spouse doesn't want to have sex with you and basically you force it, is that not along the lines of rape?
Thank god I'm young and most men don't think that way these days - because if that was their take on marital sex, I can guarantee there wouldn't be a marriage to begin with.
You're not forcing anything. She should be wanting to make sure your needs are being fulfilled. Women need to understand that sex is a basic need for men just as women have a basic need to feel loved and appreciated. If they're not getting it from you, they're going to get it somewhere else. Couple be the nanny, secretary, hookers, porn, etc. Women that go outside the relationship often do it for lack of appreciation by their spouse. It's the same effect and while the reasons are different it's worth noting that their importance is relatively equal to the respective genders. Women see things through their perspective and men the same. People need to see things from the other's perspective to fully understand them. Men having sex is a basic need. If they have options they'll go to them. Make sure your man is so sexually satisfied and he'll have no reason to stray. Also, stay sexy:
Give this a listen to, particularly the advice given around the 17 minute mark:
MyProps.org - Are You That Guy - Tom Leykis Radio Show Podcasts (http://www.myprops.org/content/Are-You-That-Guy/ - broken link)
Yes, sex is owed to the other party. It's a fundamental obligation to your spouse and is one of the few things that's expected of you when you sign the dotted line on that marriage contract with the state and your SO. In fact in several states a spouse not having sex is grounds for a "fault" based divorce.
It is fair grounds for divorce IMO if your needs aren't being met, but I don't think it's actually in the contract, at least not the written one.
However, using the word "owed" doesn't sound right to me. I mean seriously, if he were to pay me what I was owed for carrying two children and birthing them, not having had a full nights sleep in close to 4 years etc.. sex wouldn't even begin to cover it. I'd want cold hard cash, a mansion on the Mexican Rivera, a Mercedes, and a hot Latin pool man that gives great massages.
It is fair grounds for divorce IMO if your needs aren't being met, but I don't think it's actually in the contract, at least not the written one.
Of course it's not in the contract. Very few people anywhere are getting all their needs met all the time. You don't see fault divorce over failing to meet emotional needs. How is any of this to be proved anyway? There are just archaic old unenforced laws still on the books in some states. There are also statutes like you can't hold a chicken on a Saturday after 4 pm if it's raining. Sodomy is "illegal" in places too.
I'd be the proudest man on earth if I had the honour of calling her my wife. But she is my SO. And I will tell you (and anyone else who cares to listen--well, read) that if the time comes when she does grant me the honour of becoming her husband, I'm going to change in three ways:
Jack, diddley, and squat.
And anyone who has a woman like my SO and doesn't want to romance her every moment they have together is a fool.
And, for some (not all) of you characters out there who still think the way the OP seems still to think, I've got a news flash for you that I forgot to mention in my own earlier post:
Somebody worked their shapely little fanny off to make your dwelling into a home . . . and it doesn't seem to have been you. And often as not that somebody may have been holding down a job of her own outside the house. So what is her reward for making that dwelling into a home? Her husband providing things, lots of things, and then gnashing and wailing on an Internet forum because she won't do the bedroom thing on demand, or at least at (his) will.
Does it ever cross your minds that you could have (and should have) done an awful lot more to help make that dwelling a home? No, gentlemen, I don't mean adding a room or knocking down a wall to broaden a room or installing a fireplace or any of that stuff. I mean, what have you been doing when you walk through the door at the end of those oh so long, lugging, lugubrious days when you've fought yet another battle of wits with the unarmed to a draw and you've clawed, crawled, and crashed your way through yet another clusterfornication on the freeway, the highway, or the backstreets to get there?
Because the minute you walk through that door, what you ought to be feeling is that it's time to put the damn world away, a-way, and remind yourself of what made it worth it to fight those battles every day. Actually, not what---who.
There she is, gentlemen. That's the girl who agreed to spend the rest of her life with you. That's the girl who gave you her heart and accepted yours. That's the girl who looked at you with love and longing in her heart and, yes, once upon a time, her loins, because she thought you were looking at her the same way.
Once upon a time, you did look at her that way.
Somewhere along the way, you didn't just lose the plot, you might have thrown it away without even realising you were doing it. Somewhere along the way, you let the world possess you firmly enough that you forgot, if you ever knew, that even this addlepated, chameleonic, cacophonous world can't destroy what matters most in your heart if you refuse to let it do so. And you began coming back to a place to hang your hat, toss your coat, plant your exhausted carcass in a big sofa or chair, and expect the world inside that dwelling---by now you probably couldn't call it home, sadly---to cater to your every last whim while somehow managing to resist the little soft currents of rejuvenation that a real home, the one you forgot to do your part in nurturing and enhancing, blows into your system the second you open the door and begin to step through.
You see now a wife/partner who's likewise wiped. Hungering for something she seems to have lost long enough ago. Hungering for the guy who used to come home and look at her as if she was a gift from God, the guy who used to come home and want nothing more than to wrap his arms around her wherever she was and tell her, meaning every last syllable of it, that even if he'd had a lousy day, the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, it was worth it because here's the real reason he did it, and by the way, honey, how's about I kill the lights, light some candles all around, kill the tube, put on some music (quick aside: If some of you guys are waking up at last, you might think about rushing out and buying whatever copies you can find of classic bossa nova---Stan Getz, Astrud Gilberto, Jobim, Almeida, Wanderley---I guarantee it: there may have been no more intimately romantic or sexy music ever to walk the planet---Whistler) that reminds us why we got together and stayed together in the first place, and let's make dinner together, and sure I'll dance you between the counter, the burners, the fridge, and the pantry, and back, while we do it, and yes I did say we, I know a few things in the kitchen and if I don't I'm here to learn or re-learn from my lady and who cares how long it takes to get dinner done because we're doing it together . . . and by the way, darling, there isn't a woman alive who plays in your league in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house . . . and, yes, I'll feed you gladly, you just sit down there, relax, let me finish putting this together, and we'll just feed each other, we'll stay close, and by the way I hope you don't mind if I took the phone off the hook because there are priorities here . . . namely, you and, oh, by the way, who says the bedroom is the only room in the house where it's appropriate to make love and, yes, I said make love---sex is easy . . . making love is something deeper . . . and by the way thank you, darling, for making sure I never forget that . . .
And I don't mean just once in awhile to break the monotony.
Because no matter how hard her day was, all she needs is a mate coming through the door as if that's the place he most wants to be, and any and all (well, most) exhaustion will dissipate post haste. Because all she wants is love. All she wants is you. It isn't exactly that difficult to romance her when you come home. She doesn't really think it's exactly that difficult to love you or romance you.
Not until you quit being that mate.
And if you're dumb enough to quit being that mate, if you're dumb enough to start putting it into terms of provision, things, possessions, toys, you name it, you're going to lose something on which you can't put a material or dollar value. Something you can't replace.
Her.
In the bedroom . . . and out of it.
Although very idealistic, it was incredibly well written and laid out. Top stuff.
Excuse me...with due respect... how do you know I don't and what lead to my attitude...
Because you haven't said a nice thing about your wife on this thread. All you have said is what YOU have done and why YOU have done it and why YOU deserve sex and SHE isn't giving it.
So how would I know if you are doing these things?
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Beautiful.
I actually agree with the OP to some extent. Unless sex actually feels bad to the woman for some reason, be it medical or emotional, than what's the harm in being intimate and sharing that with your spouse.
