A 90 Day Hiatus and a Box of Broken Dreams

My friend and her husband of almost ten years (I think) had a difficult week last week and it has carried over in to this week. When she called me today, I wasn’t expecting to be put on speakerphone to have a therapy session with the two of them, because, let’s face it, my experience with solid relationships is nil. But maybe my track record for failing gives me some sort of insight in what you should do  to avoid ending up a lonely old spinster like myself. My friend thought that I was going to be 100% on her side, but there were valid points to both sides of the argument, which there usually are if an outside party were to look in.  Nothing is usually as one sided as it seems. At first, I think she was upset with me for not seeing her side 100% but she was only 75% right and real friends shoot straight so I had to be honest. In the midst of this very civil argument they were having, I started to feel like the child of divorce. In reality, I am the child of divorce. Of two divorces. But it never affected me. This one did. I immediately started thinking if these two perfectly matched people could not get along, then my plans of ever finding someone to exchange foot rubs with while watching movies and debating on waffles or pancakes for breakfast for the rest of our lives just got packed into the box with the rest of my broken dreams. I wanted to help, but I know nothing about marriage or long term relationships for that matter. My job pattern and my dating pattern closely resemble a lawnmower trying to cut grass that’s too tall. Push through for a bit until it stalls, try another time or two and then just say fuck it and go enjoy the beer that’s waiting for you in the fridge instead. Endurance is not my strong suit when it comes to relationships.  So basically I just stuck with what I do know. The last week’s events won’t matter 5 years from now and although everything can’t be fixed with sex, it definitely helps to keep the peace. Basically, I told my friend to fuck her husband and, of course, he was all high fives through the phone because she was withholding sex which I thought and think is a terrible idea because men are simple creatures. Most of them don’t need much to be happy. A few good friends, unlimited sports networks during their favorite season, and sex. Right? I could be totally wrong and maybe that’s why I’m single, but I have this idea in my head that I’m sure the feminists will disagree with, but if I have a man who loves me enough to want to marry me and see my naked make-up-less face every day for the rest of my life and if I love him enough to even ponder saying yes, then when things get slow and he is irritable and agitated, I think I would feel like it’s my duty to fuck him happy. My friend disagrees because the urge is gone for her, so I went on to give her another piece of probably terrible advice and I told her that every day we do things we don’t want to do and we usually do it with a smile on our face so nobody knows that we actually have no desire to be there. I feel like a little goes a long way. I told her she should offer herself to him and act like she wants to be there, because I imagine nothing is more of a boner killer than knowing you are having sex with a woman who doesn’t want to have sex with you. Again, I could be wrong. I’m just guessing here. But at least she won’t have to worry about him getting it from someone else.  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that every wife has a duty to have sex with her husband even if she doesn’t want to. If he’s a lazy douchebag piece of crap, then carry on with your strike, but if you have a good husband and a good marriage and for whatever reason that is one of your “issues,” I say get over it and give him some. He will be happy, you will be happy, and I will be happy because currently I’m living vicariously through other people’s sex lives. I’m on another man strike. Not really. I just don’t have the energy to find a new one and I don’t want any of the old ones which leaves me trying to talk my friends into fucking their husbands because sex is beautiful and I think we should all be having it with each other. Except for me. I’m taking a time out and when and if I do meet someone, I’m going to continue to hold out and I’m going to go with my friends’ suggestion to wait 90 days to see his true colors because Mr. Derek seemed perfect until he got the goodies and then he turned into every guy I had ever known: selfish, self absorbed, manipulative, self-serving, etc. You get the point. Mr. Perfect quickly turned into Mr. Typical and I turned into the girl kicking herself for not listening to her friends the first time. Her friends with the perfect husbands and the perfect marriages.  So I’m going to try their 90 day rule, though I don’t know if that means the 90 days starts over if I meet someone before my 90 days of abstinence is up. I would say it does. I’ll have to clarify. One of my friends also said that self pleasure was also not allowed for the first 90 days. I agreed, but I’ll be less disappointed if I break that promise because I am slightly in love with myself.  So I guess if I’m back on the wagon, there’s no need for me to get on a new dating site even though I found a super cool one today that was called meetmindful. If the universe wants me to meet someone, they will put him in my path preferably with a mushroom pizza, a six pack of coronas with lime and a couple of Redbox movies in hand. But to all you women who have what the universe meant for you to have sleeping in the bed with you every night, happily, do me a favor, and give him some even if you don’t feel like it. It will make the world a better place. And don’t be disappointed if my 90 day hiatus doesn’t go full term. Nothing makes you stronger than continually failing. Or something like that.

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