So, I’m browsing Huffington Post the other day and come across this article that looks familiar, entitled “5 Reasons You Should Have Sex With Your Husband Every Night”. The reason it sounds familiar is because, well, quite frankly, I wrote it.
Well, I wrote the initial draft, but was told that the publication would pass on it. No biggie. Months later, I see that the article (which I enjoyed btw) was rearranged, sanitized and reproduced from the perspective of Meg Conley.
I’m currently cashing in on my Prepaid Legal insurance that I signed up for in college as part of a pyramid scheme business venture, (did your friends promise it’d make you rich enough to retire by 30, too?) to take action against said publication for its blatant theft. Because the case is pending, I can’t post the full original five-point article, nor can I speak any further on the situation involving the Huffington Post as an entity, or Ms. Conley [This changes nothing between us, though, baby. Your eyes tell a thousand stories in that profile pic ;-*) ].
But what I can do, is set the record straight by including key excerpts that were changed or omitted from the REAL story.
Aside from the obvious fact that I'm not a married woman with a husband, I scratched portions of Ms. Conley's article where my words were blatantly changed and inserted pieces from my original article in bold:
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Being a mother, one of the ultimate expressions of womanhood, can often leave a girl feeling stripped of her femininity. There is something about being covered in spit up and attending to the every need of another human being that makes one feel distinctly gender neutral. Most of my days are spent playing with dolls, wiping baby food off of my clothes, changing diapers, wiping snot off of my clothes, going to the park, and wiping what-the-heavens-is-that off of my clothes. There is something restorative about kissing the boy you love. There are times in Riley's arms when I remember who I am before I even realize I have forgotten. Yes, I am a cook, cleaner, teacher, and wiper of all things disgusting. But I am also something more, something delightful and completely apart from my roles. I am a woman! And there is potential and depth and heck, I am pretty darn good kisser, too. It is a lovely thing, finding yourself through the touch of someone else. feeling like a whore again.
You see, long, long ago, before your wife was “schnookums”, “pudding pop” or “World’s #1 Mommy” she was out doing hoe activities. With hoe tendencies. Hoes were her friends. Hoes were her enemies. And then she got married.
And if she, like many, never actually engaged in said hoe activities, she secretly fantasized about how since she was a good girl all her life, she and her husband would reap the benefits of the untapped debauchery. In fact, show me an ardent church girl and I'll show you a girl who has memorized Song Of Solomon and can't wait to get biblicle on her husband on their wedding night.
But when some of us good citizens of the universe put on wedding rings, we lose track of the whore that lies within us all. My friends, because we’re worried about life insurance policies, or finding out what made little Winthrop throw up his meatloaf and cabbage dinner and who’s going to watch him tomorrow, we too often deny ourselves the carnal joy that even the common harlot experiences.
So ladies, think of reconnecting with your husband as a break from the Serious Susan you spend so much time being all day. Take a walk in the shoes of “that cheerleader” that you either were or you hated.
If you want your husband to act like a man, you need to treat him like a man. Hold the eye rolls. I am not pushing for a return to the 1950′s. (Although, heaven knows an era in which low rise jeans did not exist is basically alright by me.) Women need any number of criteria met to feel loved. Men are far simpler. They need to be fed, they need to be appreciated, and they need to have sex. That is it. Really. So make or order dinner once in a while. Say thank you for the long hours spent at work with a hug and smile when he walks through the door each night. (Better yet? Smile as you hand him the kids and walk out the door for a long, much needed break.) And my goodness, let the poor man see you naked. It is astounding what a good man will do for a good woman that has made him feel loved. After a few weeks of meals and make outs, you will sit back and wonder why you didn't insist on having sex every night sooner. Talk about a small investment and big returns.Oh, and by sex, I mean sex his way. Any time he whispers sweet nothings, lights candles, throws on a Marvin Gaye vinyl or performs Swedish, Thai or Shiatsu massage, he’s doing it your way. Trust me when I say that doing it his way for a while will reveal a part of your man’s brain you might just need to brace yourself to find out about.
Matter of fact, he’s probably so busy lying and being Mr. Hi Honey I’m Home that he has a habit of hiding his real, secret fun life from you. If you want to know a man down to his heart and nerve and sinew, you gotta bare it all, go for the gusto (see: Bring Some, To Get Some, revisited) and try things his way for a change. This way, you'll be acquainted with his authentic self, not the self that does just enough to not make you mad, so he can hopefully get a Scooby snack after dinner.
Sex relieves stress. I don't know that this one needs much explanation. As a mother I eat stress for breakfast. So it seems to me I have a choice. I can let off steam by A) driving around at night and bashing in strangers mailboxes or B) I can get down and dirty with that one guy I married that one time. I choose option B. (So far the mailboxes in my neighborhood have escaped unscathed, so Option B must be working.) So basically, with your powers combined, you can create nature’s best anti-depressant and save that energy you used to use on stress, and put it toward something productive. It’s the difference between having a magic wand that can make everyone in the world (household) happy and bluffing the other side with your Weapon Of Mass Distraction, so that they walk uncertain and on eggshells. If momma ain't happy, no one is happy--so let your husband make momma happy.
Ms. Conley’s article continues with a bunch of good points that have merit, but it is clear that much of her philosophy was taken from my original article. While my calls to editors over at the Post haven’t been returned, I promise to keep you guys updated.
*The story above is a lie. Ms. Conley's article is her own work and I am not suing The Huffington Post. This was my way of describing the passion I share for her and womankind as a whole.