How To
The Non-Expert: Married Sex
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week ROSECRANS BALDWIN helps a woman whose husband has lost interest in intimacy, with ways to fool her man into bonking.
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- The Non-Expert: Term Paper (June 3, 2005)
- The Non-Expert: 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover (May 27, 2005)
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Question: My husband and I got married this summer and already our intimate life has started to slow down because he says he needs to adjust to being married and then after work he’s not interested he’s just tired and on Saturdays he has to work to. On Sunday we have church and then, dinner at his mother’s house. I’m going crazy. —Andrea P.
Answer: In your single days, it was probably rare to chart a sexual relationship for more than a couple of months. Sex while dating is about sprints, not long climbs. Maybe you bagged a few mountains at the beginning, or a Mt. Fuji around month two, but you were still assured of the inevitable descent. The resulting map shows a brief adventure you can hang nicely above your desk, or pin behind your dresser.
Poke around the house of a couple that’s long been married for a while and you’ll find a three-mile-long scroll of ice ages and vast tundras, a collection of weathered summit flags, and a couple dead sherpas surrounded by oxygen tanks. To climb one of the world’s highest peaks calls for courage and good luck; to survive 50 years of married intimacy demands blindness and expensive miniature devices produced in Germany.
Before I give specific advice, though, I’d like to throw in a broadside comment: Think of your married sex life as a career—not a temp job. You may be frustrated now, but imagine how much worse it will be in 30 years! (Have you considered that your husband may be among the one percent of humans with zero interest in getting nut?) The fact remains your husband isn’t going to have sex with you unless you trick him into it.
When he complains he has a headache
After decades of girls on sitcoms dashing their guys’ plans with migraines, males picked up the excuse for revenge. Your husband knows this, so call him on the ruse.
“Sorry baby, I have a really bad headache.”
“Bullshit bitch, let’s do this.”
He’ll probably be stunned into priapism by your forthright manner. If not, exact massage. And if he starts staying home on Saturday nights to shampoo his hair, unleash the lawyers.
When he’s moody, defensive, and prone to lash out
“Men have hormones too!” he’ll complain meekly while turning up the volume on SportsCenter. Be strong. Steal the remote or break his wrist trying. Has he ever been a water-weight slave to birth control? Does his boss occasionally wonder aloud if it’s his time of the month? The only problem he can rightfully claim is low self-esteem due to his expanding gut, and you can quickly answer no, you don’t mind if he wears a T-shirt during sex, especially since he started growing weird plots of hair on his shoulders and triceps.
But don’t mention that last part or he’ll go crying to his online poker buddies.
When he’s on the phone with his brother all night long
The conversation you overhear when you find your husband on the phone in the kitchen:
Him: “Um, yeah.”
Him: “Precisely.”
Him: “Yes.”
Him: “Yup.”
Him: [laughs] “You know it.”
Him: “Gotcha.”
You should have snuck out and quietly picked up the other line in the den:
Him: “Um, yeah.”
His brother: “You think I’m a slut too?”
Him: “Precisely.”
His brother: “Wait, Andrea just came in, didn’t she?”
Him: “Yes.”
His brother: “Is she still trying to have sex with you?”
Him: “Yup.”
His brother: “Women are so predictable. Let me guess, she said it would be OK just to give her head if you were tired.”
Him: [laughs] “You know it.”
His brother: “Bro, take it easy. Tell her you’ll be wanting it every day in your forties when you hit your peak. Chicks always buy that one.”
Him: “Gotcha.”
Not many options here, unless the brother’s kind of cute…
When he’d rather watch Friends
Be sympathetic. Agree to some TV, and after a few minutes ask him who he thinks is hottest: Rachel, Phoebe, or Monica? Then ask him, hypothetically you insist, if he had to have a threesome, who would he leave out?
A guide to his response:
If he leaves out Phoebe: Book your therapist four nights a week through Easter. No guy ditches a hypersexual ditzy blond massage therapist for a whiny brat and a neurotic toothpick, and still wants to do it.
If he leaves out Monica: Take advantage fast and wear pigtails if necessary. You never know if he’ll suddenly start pining for Monica’s maternal side.
If he leaves out Chandler: Enjoy a three-day binge with your town’s most expensive male escort, and charge it to your husband’s corporate Amex.
When he just wants to cuddle
You can’t be hard all the time—married sex is as much (if not more) about intimacy as intercourse, and you could probably stand for some cuddling too. So let him lead the way. If he wants to light a few candles, encourage the romance. When he invents a pet nickname for you, return the gesture. You should probably draw the line when he tries to sneak some nachos into bed, but otherwise be open-minded and sensitive to his needs.
When he’s finally asleep from the tranquilizers you dissolved in his warm milk, see if you can’t “hop on pop,” as they say.
When he isn’t interested, ever
The last big trick: After a Sunday dinner at his mom’s, invite the family out for ice cream and say you’ll treat. Drive the whole gang into town and drop them off at the Baskin-Robbins, but ask your husband to help you park the car.
“I think I’m pregnant,” you say once you cut the ignition.
“That’s impossible! Unless you’ve been—”
“No, you idiot, I have not been cheating.”
“Then how? We haven’t slept together in months!”
“Like I don’t know this. That’s what caused it, you moron. If a girl is married and doesn’t have sex in 90 days with her husband, the egg begins to—”
“No way. I don’t believe it. Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Because here is the astounding crux: as your husband’s face crumples and he descends into shock, you’ll notice he’s completely convinced that your body has somehow impregnated itself like an alien. Why? Because not only are men naturally suggestible and naïve, they also have no idea how women’s bodies work. Eventually all husbands accept anything their wives tell them, even if it disagrees with everything they know.
“But…” you start.
“But what?” he shouts. “Tell me!”
“The process has only just started. There is a way to reverse things.”
“What is it? Come on, tell me!” he screams.
“Well,” you say slowly, eyeing the back seat, “my doctor says if we have sex every day for the next two months, with a minimum of 20 minutes foreplay and two rounds of head…”
Welcome to your new married sex life, based on pseudo-science, lies, and cruel manipulations. Just like politics, it doesn’t matter what you do or what you say, so long as you keep getting laid.
Question: My husband and I got married this summer and already our intimate life has started to slow down because he says he needs to adjust to being married and then after work he’s not interested he’s just tired and on Saturdays he has to work to. On Sunday we have church and then, dinner at his mother’s house. I’m going crazy. —Andrea P.
Answer: In your single days, it was probably rare to chart a sexual relationship for more than a couple of months. Sex while dating is about sprints, not long climbs. Maybe you bagged a few mountains at the beginning, or a Mt. Fuji around month two, but you were still assured of the inevitable descent. The resulting map shows a brief adventure you can hang nicely above your desk, or pin behind your dresser.
Poke around the house of a couple that’s long been married for a while and you’ll find a three-mile-long scroll of ice ages and vast tundras, a collection of weathered summit flags, and a couple dead sherpas surrounded by oxygen tanks. To climb one of the world’s highest peaks calls for courage and good luck; to survive 50 years of married intimacy demands blindness and expensive miniature devices produced in Germany.
Before I give specific advice, though, I’d like to throw in a broadside comment: Think of your married sex life as a career—not a temp job. You may be frustrated now, but imagine how much worse it will be in 30 years! (Have you considered that your husband may be among the one percent of humans with zero interest in getting nut?) The fact remains your husband isn’t going to have sex with you unless you trick him into it.
When he complains he has a headache
After decades of girls on sitcoms dashing their guys’ plans with migraines, males picked up the excuse for revenge. Your husband knows this, so call him on the ruse.
“Sorry baby, I have a really bad headache.”
“Bullshit bitch, let’s do this.”
He’ll probably be stunned into priapism by your forthright manner. If not, exact massage. And if he starts staying home on Saturday nights to shampoo his hair, unleash the lawyers.
When he’s moody, defensive, and prone to lash out
“Men have hormones too!” he’ll complain meekly while turning up the volume on SportsCenter. Be strong. Steal the remote or break his wrist trying. Has he ever been a water-weight slave to birth control? Does his boss occasionally wonder aloud if it’s his time of the month? The only problem he can rightfully claim is low self-esteem due to his expanding gut, and you can quickly answer no, you don’t mind if he wears a T-shirt during sex, especially since he started growing weird plots of hair on his shoulders and triceps.
But don’t mention that last part or he’ll go crying to his online poker buddies.
When he’s on the phone with his brother all night long
The conversation you overhear when you find your husband on the phone in the kitchen:
Him: “Um, yeah.”
Him: “Precisely.”
Him: “Yes.”
Him: “Yup.”
Him: [laughs] “You know it.”
Him: “Gotcha.”
You should have snuck out and quietly picked up the other line in the den:
Him: “Um, yeah.”
His brother: “You think I’m a slut too?”
Him: “Precisely.”
His brother: “Wait, Andrea just came in, didn’t she?”
Him: “Yes.”
His brother: “Is she still trying to have sex with you?”
Him: “Yup.”
His brother: “Women are so predictable. Let me guess, she said it would be OK just to give her head if you were tired.”
Him: [laughs] “You know it.”
His brother: “Bro, take it easy. Tell her you’ll be wanting it every day in your forties when you hit your peak. Chicks always buy that one.”
Him: “Gotcha.”
Not many options here, unless the brother’s kind of cute…
When he’d rather watch Friends
Be sympathetic. Agree to some TV, and after a few minutes ask him who he thinks is hottest: Rachel, Phoebe, or Monica? Then ask him, hypothetically you insist, if he had to have a threesome, who would he leave out?
A guide to his response:
If he leaves out Phoebe: Book your therapist four nights a week through Easter. No guy ditches a hypersexual ditzy blond massage therapist for a whiny brat and a neurotic toothpick, and still wants to do it.
If he leaves out Monica: Take advantage fast and wear pigtails if necessary. You never know if he’ll suddenly start pining for Monica’s maternal side.
If he leaves out Chandler: Enjoy a three-day binge with your town’s most expensive male escort, and charge it to your husband’s corporate Amex.
When he just wants to cuddle
You can’t be hard all the time—married sex is as much (if not more) about intimacy as intercourse, and you could probably stand for some cuddling too. So let him lead the way. If he wants to light a few candles, encourage the romance. When he invents a pet nickname for you, return the gesture. You should probably draw the line when he tries to sneak some nachos into bed, but otherwise be open-minded and sensitive to his needs.
When he’s finally asleep from the tranquilizers you dissolved in his warm milk, see if you can’t “hop on pop,” as they say.
When he isn’t interested, ever
The last big trick: After a Sunday dinner at his mom’s, invite the family out for ice cream and say you’ll treat. Drive the whole gang into town and drop them off at the Baskin-Robbins, but ask your husband to help you park the car.
“I think I’m pregnant,” you say once you cut the ignition.
“That’s impossible! Unless you’ve been—”
“No, you idiot, I have not been cheating.”
“Then how? We haven’t slept together in months!”
“Like I don’t know this. That’s what caused it, you moron. If a girl is married and doesn’t have sex in 90 days with her husband, the egg begins to—”
“No way. I don’t believe it. Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Because here is the astounding crux: as your husband’s face crumples and he descends into shock, you’ll notice he’s completely convinced that your body has somehow impregnated itself like an alien. Why? Because not only are men naturally suggestible and naïve, they also have no idea how women’s bodies work. Eventually all husbands accept anything their wives tell them, even if it disagrees with everything they know.
“But…” you start.
“But what?” he shouts. “Tell me!”
“The process has only just started. There is a way to reverse things.”
“What is it? Come on, tell me!” he screams.
“Well,” you say slowly, eyeing the back seat, “my doctor says if we have sex every day for the next two months, with a minimum of 20 minutes foreplay and two rounds of head…”
Welcome to your new married sex life, based on pseudo-science, lies, and cruel manipulations. Just like politics, it doesn’t matter what you do or what you say, so long as you keep getting laid.
—Published October 15, 2004
