You think I’m a hot and horny fuck kitten who sells her pre-moistened panties to strangers on Craigslist, makes porn, and after the kids go to sleep I try out all my toys and surra de bunda my husband’s face all night long, right?
Well, not so much.
The truth is that I have a hard time getting in the mood to do Sexy Time.
I know this shatters some pretty awesome images–and I’m sorry, I really am–but it’s high time I came clean and revealed the truth about my mostly lame sex life because I know you’ve all been jealous and you’ve been sitting there going “God! What I wouldn’t give to be that girl!” and I don’t want you to feel bad about yourselves anymore because even I’m not that girl. Most of the time, I’d rather go the hell to sleep than get it on till the break o’ dawn. Or even for an amazing 20 minutes.
(Just now this very moment my husband came downstairs totally naked and said “hey bay-bey,” did a windmill with his wenis, and ran down to the basement, giggling. I can hear the baby screaming her head off from her crib because she doesn’t want to go to sleep, and the cat is head-butting me because he wants his dinner. Is it any wonder why I’m not in the mood? This place is a fucking circus, and I’ve never been turned on by carnies.)
It wasn’t always like this, you guys. Before we had our two little crotch fruits there was sex on the dining room table and on the floor and in cars and in the pool and JESUS. I don’t even know those people anymore. Nowadays, the phrase “I might let you touch me later” is our “signal” that one of us might be interested in Sexy Time. And by “one of us” I mean me. (Protip: Notice the non-committal “might” in there. I always leave myself an out because while my intentions might be good when I say it, the events between that moment and the time we get the kids out of the way can totally obliterate that shit.)
Actually, it’s not just me: my husband is wicked tired too. Like most guys, generally, he’s better at rallying for Sexy Time than I am… but not always.
Take last Friday night for example. We had a romantic evening planned, but as soon as the kids were in bed, we both fell asleep with all our clothes on in awkward spots on the bed, our glasses of wine left half-sipped on the nightstands. We both woke up confused at 2:30 am and wondered what the fuck happened. We’ve even had sex in our sleep because we were too tired to do it when we were awake!
On the whole though, he is much better at getting in the mood because, well, he has a dick. Those things seem to always be ready to spring into action. Sadly, my vajeen is not so eager. Some nights, when the tiredness knocks me out, I wake up over and over and apologize to him for falling asleep AGAIN.
It’s not just tiredness though because if by some miracle and coffee I manage to stay awake after the kids go to bed, I want to be touched about as much as I want to pick up toys and wipe asses for another 12 hours. What I WANT to do is vegetate and watch me some horrifying, yet strangely compelling Real Housewives or read a book or just sit there and drool on myself. I’ve been climbed on and grabbed at and argued with all day long. The mommy machine has run down. It needs to do NOTHING for a while.
I’ve tried all those stupid, predictable things Cosmo suggests like having a romantic dinner (Yeah, right. Ever eaten dinner with some kids? Romantic ain’t the way to describe it), take a hot bath (with a 5 year-old banging on the door looking for her Care Bear), light some candles (we all know how that shit works out for me) give each other a sensual massage (if he massages me–and he often does–I fall asleep in .05 seconds) open a bottle of wine (ZZZZZZzzzzzzzz….), and play some sexy music (that wakes the kids up for a dance party).
Basically, even if I’m not asleep, all the stuff that’s supposed to help ya get in the mood is not totally possible/effective for me at this juncture. The spark is there, but the tinder and kindling ain’t takin’ it. Eventually it gets to the point where I offer my husband a playthrough, just to keep the peace, but then I’m the one left with the blue balls.
I don’t know, Toy with Mes. Maybe this is just the stage of life I’m in? It’ll get better, won’t it?
Do any of you guys have a lame sex life like me? What gets you in the mood?
Photo by Stuart Miles.