Bad wife jokes. We all know them. From the mild ones like, "What food decreases a woman's sex drive? Wedding cake," to the downright nasty ones such as, "What do you call all that useless flesh around a vagina? A wife." There has to be some basis in reality for jokes of that sort to make the rounds. Say all you want about how wrong it is to pigeonhole people, but somewhere underneath every stereotype are the very folks who cause the various stereotypes to exist. And, sometimes believing the generalizations is easier than facing the realities.
If I'd stumbled upon the sex blogs of the women who write them back in the shitty days of my married sex life I think I might've been tempted to take a gun to my head. It was comforting back then to think that I was just one of most married men who had shitty sex lives, who couldn't stay out of trouble no matter how hard we tried, who had wives who were always right, who were expected to read our wive's minds no matter how impossible we proved our abilities to be in that regard, and who just couldn't be content because any time we dared to think that things were looking up, our heads would get smacked right back down to staring at our shoes again, and hardly ever for any really good reason.
I would not want to have been forced to believe that there are women - married women with ravenous appetites for sex, who enjoyed sucking a stiff cock, who love to be fucked, who like it - really like it - up the ass. Neither would I want to have been made to face a world in which there were married women who were pleasant to be with at every turn, who didn't expect you to read their minds, who didn't criticize your every attempt to do on your own without fucking it up something good, or right, or nice. It was much easier back then to believe that most married guys floated in the same boat adrift on a sea of, "So this is it. This is as good as life gets," than to hope against all odds that it could be different.
So many of the mails I get are from guys who are as I was just a few years ago. I'm sorrier than anything that I don't have answers for them - that I can't snap my fingers and somehow make their lives better for their wive's sakes as much as for their own. All I know is this - that if I'd stopped loving Dee back then during those 16 years of hoping and wishing and dreaming that somehow things could be different and better - I'd not have this joy now. All I can possibly offer to anyone is hope - the hope of seeing that in spite of what seems to be a total impossibility, sometimes things can and do get better. I'm the living proof - and I'm very conscious of how lucky I am even without being reminded by many of the folks who write to tell me just that.
For the record, I still believe that the old stereotype of the typical nagging, never happy, wife without a libido is, for the most part, true. I do know, however, of some noteworthily wonderful exceptions and I count myself blessed for not only knowing of them, but for truly knowing some of them in the flesh, particularly this amazing, hot, special one to whom I'm married.
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