A Very Brady Sex Life

 I recently read an article that states: “You ask me to have sex when the dishes are still piled up in the sink, and I’ll just consider it another chore I need to do before I get to the dishes. Sex for most women most of the time is a performance we put on so we can get on with doing other things.” ~Caitlin Johnstone

  So, this got me to thinking about the difference in my sex life during marriage as opposed to the last three years. There is much truth in the above statement. Running a household is a never ending to-do list, and it can be a struggle to shut those things out of your mind. There were times I would silently pray as I closed the bedroom door, “Please, God, give me the energy and desire for this sex that is about to happen.” 

(Note: husbands are neither aroused nor amused when you tell them you prayed that God would help you want sex.) 

  I remember my husband saying things like, “I think you’d be a lot more passionate with someone else.” 

  Well, yeah, that turned out to be true. I’m more passionate with literally everyone else. I’ve always been a highly sexual person, and I wanted to be a passionate wife, I just couldn’t figure out how to make it happen. Especially after 20+ years of monotony…errr…monogamy. 

  So, here is a key that I think could be helpful to every woman, including those in a long time marriage: NEVER HAVE SEX IN YOUR HOUSE!! Go to a hotel, or the backseat of the car, or borrow the neighbor’s house for a couple of hours. Just physically distance yourself from the place where you have the most work to do…your home. 

  Now granted, there are people who have managed to create a bedroom oasis, and always have the housework caught up. I don’t know any of them, but I’ve read about them in magazines. 

  Not once since my divorce have I had sex at home. I’m always at a hotel, or the guy’s place, or maybe in a parking garage (don’t ask) or on an airplane (do ask). 

  The point is, I am completely, 100% mentally relaxed. My entire focus is on the other person and our time together. Not one single chore or household responsibility crosses my mind. 

   Every time I go to my lover’s house, he cooks dinner. Or we order in. Or walk to a local restaurant. Or sometimes, when our hunger is of a different nature, we skip the food. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe part of the allure is that I’m not required to provide a meal.

  But anyway, when I’m sitting at his kitchen island, watching him cook, I never once think, “Oh my god, he is using way too many pots and pans. I’m going to have a huge mess to clean up.” 

  I never walk into his bathroom and think, “Crap. Why isn’t he using the squeegee after he showers? Doesn’t he know how hard it is to remove water spots?”

  I never, ever, ever complain about his socks being on the floor, but that’s for a whole ‘nother foot fetish reason. Sometimes, I do feel compelled to pick them up, but only because I want to tuck them in my bag and take them home. 

  The man is an exceptionally skilled lover, no doubt, but I can’t help but wonder if the sex continues to be insanely good because he has a housekeeper. Sure, some of those dishes piled in the sink are dirty because of me, but they never cross my mind on the other side of the bedroom threshold. And I feel zero guilt when I walk past them in the morning, on my way to the front door. 

  Instead, I embark on the day feeling lighthearted, at peace, and ready to tackle my to-do list with fervor and aplomb. It is good for your brain and your body when you can free your mind from everything but sex. 

  Maybe Mike and Carol Brady transitioned the television world to a joint marital bed, rather than twin beds like Ricky and Lucy, because they had Alice.

Carol didn’t have to worry that hard core sex would make her forget to switch the Crock-Pot on in the morning. There’s a reason she always walked into the kitchen smiling, oblivious to the vegetables that needed chopping, and the serious heart-to-heart conversation Alice was having with whichever kid felt troubled that week.

  Thankfully, Alice got a reprieve whenever she met Sam at his “meat” shop. She always left smiling. I guarantee she never once thought about his dirty dishes the entire time she was there.

 

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