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My Tool Room resembles my marriage.

Under the house is our car garage and off to the side is a little  room that measures roughly 7 feet wide and 12 feet long. We call it the Tool Room because that is where those implements of manly creativity and fixitivity reside. I know I am fortunate to even have such a room, as this kind of extra space is a luxury in many homes.

The problem with the Tool Room is the frantic pace of life we lead. Seems every home repair or honey-do is performed on the run. There’s never time to put stuff back where it belongs, so things just get piled up on and in front of the workbench.  As stuff piles up, the workbench and the tools needed for the next project get more hopelessly buried . Often I forget what tools I’ve got and repurchase supplies I already own. It doesn’t take long for the whole family to begin using the Tool Room as the default repository for Everything That I Want To Save But Don’t Know What To Do With.

Just yesterday, I found myself in the Tool Room, unable to get closer than 3 feet away from the bench and having to manually bulldoze to clear a spot for a little project I was doing. There was crap everywhere: on the floor and heaped onto the workbench. And I ended up getting frustrated as my back began to ache from having to lean over so far due to so much crap between me and the workbench.

Of course, I didn’t take a bit of time to clean up any of the mess. In fact I left things a little worse than I found them, because I just didn’t have the time or inclination to do anything about it. It will be worse next time I go down there to honeydo something. For sure.

I am guilty of letting my marriage get cluttered up, too.

Just a little, subtle criticism heaped into that corner.

A couple nights a week of overtime at work and missing dinner together.

Mid-week Bible study and coffee with friends until bedtime.

Ignoring the bad attitude of one of my kids toward my wife.

Forgetting to passionately kiss her when I get home in the evening.

Not initiating small talk.

Forgetting to compliment her on the comfortable home she maintains.

Leaving the seat up, so she can splashdown early in the morning.

Complimenting  that hottie on TV.

Not initiating sex.

Not saying “I love you” with emphasis.

Catching the TV news instead of her news. 

Leaving her to help with all the homework.

Forgetting to plan a night out together.

Avoiding going to bed at the same time.

Leaving my underwear next to the hamper.

OK, you’ve probably gotten the idea here- There are a thousand ways to clutter a relationship. Any one or two of them can be fairly ignored. But let ‘em pile up too deep and you are headed for a breakdown.  I do let stuff (issues, anger, frustrations, criticism, lonliness) pile up between us until we cannot stand close enough to connect any more.

I end up attempting Arm’s Length Loving. Just like down in the Tool Room, we don’t get much accomplished when too much junk has accumulated between us.

Usually, before we are able to get close again, we need to declutter. We must clear out all the little insignificant issues that have piled up into a monster. Often, the cleanup becomes an all day affair. And we promise ourselves that we will never let stuff pile up like that again.

Here is my question for you men- What would your wife say about Arm’s Length Loving?  Is there any of it going on between you two right now? You might not even recognize it, but I will bet your wife is aware of all the clutter between you.

Care to initiate a little Summer cleaning? Tonight?

Filed under the heading of Manly Leadership No Matter How Uncomfortable It Might Be: Commit to declutter your marriage starting tonight. Do the manly thing and get started. It will go so much smoother for you if YOU initiate this, not your wife.

The hardest part is getting started. 

Blessings

Technorati Tags: communication

Yesterday I gave a little tease towards today’s post. Sorry ’bout that. Promise, no bait and switch today.

I do need to tell you that I have been working on this post for 3 weeks off and on. Deleted it many times. Completely reworked things. Had cute videos to go with it (Fave was Sparks’  “All you ever think about is sex” from the early 80’s) but decided to abandon that idea, too. Let’s see if I can make something stick this time.

It is so easy to write about things that are going on in my life on the periphery. Those things that are fun or interesting, but non-essential: like getting humbled in Starbucks or battling raccoons.

And writing about stuff that happened as the kids were growing up is easy and safe.

And I am all over watching someone else crash and burn, then writing about that. Like here.

But this is fresh out of my -our- recent collective soul. We are still working through some of the loose end details, but overall I would say (and the Postmistress agrees) that our marriage has gone from “pretty good, I think” to “Outstanding”. It was “pretty good, I think” in most every area except our physical intimacy. In fairness, she thought that was okay, too. We were so not on the same page. We weren’t even in the same library. 

Unfortunately, I had to perform a domestic nuclear meltdown before things got better. Not that I meant to, mind you. The bottle of pent-up feelings just broke one day. Exploded really. All over my wife. It was really messy and we still occasionally discover little gobs of brain goo here and there.

The cause of my little brain vacation?

Duty sex. 

Or pity sex, if you will.

Same difference: it is worse than no sex at all, I finally decided. I didn’t realize what it was doing to erode my spirit. And she didn’t understand that I had perceived  for many years that most of our intimacy was just pity sex. Perceptions are rarely reality, but until dispelled they are.

My perception was that the only reason I got any at all was to keep me from having an affair and because the Bible says a good wife should “do that” every once in a while.

The recurring thought of “I am aware that you are planning out your schedule for tomorrow and also making a grocery list while you wait for me to come” during our lovemaking was thrill-kill for me.

It got to the point where I would never initiate sex. Never. For freaking years.

Don’t get the wrong impression- she has never refused sex. I just got tired of feeling like it was her job to make sure I got off several times a month. I was not interested in being the last item on her “to do” list any longer. I was willing to wait for her to initiate because it was safest for me. I was willing to wait until she wanted me.

Remember these are my perceptions that became reality to me because I wasn’t able to talk through my feelings. I found out that my perceptions were not reality at all. Just had to burst to figure it out.

The tipping point came a few months before the official meltdown when I went on Blood Pressure meds. I am not too high, but the doc just wanted me to see if we could exercise a little more and take some pills to put it well into the good range. A side effect of some BP meds is Erectile Dysfunction.

Yep. Happened to me.

And I rejoiced. I told my wife that this might be the answer to my prayers. (Huh?) If my libido would just go away with the erections, then life would be great I told her. I asked her to pray for that. Seriously- I wanted her to ask God for what I had been praying about for years: that I would stop wanting sex. It seemed to be a most merciful answer.

She said I was nuts and that I should see a psychologist about that. I’m thinking, “Why pay a shrink when you could solve my problem real easy by showing some enthusiasm in the bed. You might even start to like it if you would give it a chance.”

Remember- these are my perceptions. Reality is/was very different.

She had no idea that I was masturbating to simply stay sane.

From our early years I got used to sex being far too infrequent. It was not anyone’s fault, really. Just that life can make us crazy busy, and I came to accept that I would remain perpetually unfulfilled. We made the decision that she would stay home to raise our kids, which meant that I worked lots of overtime and many second jobs, with the occasional third parttime job thrown in. Our schedules barely overlapped, and the seldom times we were together usually included a baby next to us in the bed or a toddler eating breakfast in his highchair. We also had a steady stream of babies, which didn’t increase our opportunities for physical intimacy. I guess we did find the time to make ‘em, so it couldn’t have been so bad. Perceptions again.

I felt guilty that I was horny every day because I could see that she was just too overloaded with kids to meet my needs. A man should be able to see that his kids would take first priority, I reasoned. So I bottled up my feelings about my need for intimacy. (Notice I said intimacy: not sex). I quit asking for something I thought was a selfish need. “Besides”, Ifigured, “we will get back in the saddle more often once all the kids are into grade school and not so needy of mommy.” I could wait it out.

That time came and went with little change in our intimacy. “Waiting it out” wasn’t the solution I had hoped for. I was still in the habit of never asking for sex. My confidence was so shot that I couldn’t bear the thought that she might not desire sex with me anymore, or that I was incapable of turning her on, now that we had some time to actually do it. If we remembered how. I still had the perception that she was just doin’ me out of duty- to keep me around. I was still the last item on her list for the day.

Perception.

About this time, I told the doctor about the bit of ED the pills were causing and he switched up the prescription. Problem solved. Well, one problem solved. That was the easy one.

The prayers for reduced libido went unanswered.

And I still needed a kind of intimacy that we had not developed as a couple. I thought I needed more sex, but in reality I was starved for a kind of intimacy I didn’t even know I needed. I was taught that guys only needed sex to be happy. That is only partly right. We do need to ejaculate pretty regularly to mitigate that frustrated feeling we get inside ourselves. Grumpiness, we call it. But nobody ever told me that I would crave intimacy with my wife as much as she needs it from me. Turns out I needed more than nookie . . .Who knew?

We guys can do a little hand jive to solve the ejaculation problem. But, though my nuts might feel lighter, my heart was never happy about taking matters into my own hands. In fact, my loneliness and yearning for something intimate grew and grew. I even felt lonely most times we made love, because I thought she wasn’t into it with me. I perceived that, because she wasn’t expressing herself to me like I hear her do with her goodgirlfriends, she was not into me.

Then I blew up.

I told her, over the phone thank you very much, how I was feeling. I couldn’t look her in the eyes so I told her via telephone. Quite manly.

She had known something was up ever since the “libido prayer”, but I had decided to try to stuff my feelings. Turns out she thought I wanted to leave her.  She thought I was ready to move on. We were both perceiving that the other was not interested in trying any more.

Wrong. Totally wrong. Wrong perceptions on both of our parts almost sunk us as a couple. We were both heartbroken about the same thing, we just didn’t know it yet.

So I told her I was bored. Bored with sex with her. I had read books to try and understand why she was uninterested in sex with me. I even bought a deck of cards that show different positions for us to try. She wasn’t interested.

I told her that sex 3 or 4 times a month was nowhere close to enough for me. And that I knew she only did it those times to try to keep me from having an affair.

Told her I was tired of hearing her say that she would be okay with never having sex.

Told her that wearing “old flannel”  and Granny panties to bed was about the unsexiest thing I could think of.

I said , “Should I bring tissues to bed?” was not an acceptable way to initiate sex. Made me feel like she just thought of sex in terms of disposal of the waste byproduct of the deed.

Mentioned that I was tired of feeling like I was just masturbating in her vagina.

Hate being a “to do” on the list, I said.

Wondered aloud if she could ever remember deliberately touching my cock. (I kept track. Had been over 6 months).

Told her that “she can talk all day long with her lady friends, but won’t say a word in bed.”

Said “You can give specific directions to the kids about anything important to them, but you won’t tell me anything that might help me to know how to please you in bed. In fact, the only time you WON’T talk is during sex.”

 ”Pity sex would no longer be tolerated. I’d rather jerk off than hear you say ‘are you done?’ one more time” I said.

And I told her how profoundly lonely I was, especially when we were in bed together.

I hurt her feelings pretty badly, needless to say. I should have said what I did many years earlier and in a much gentler fashion. I am lucky to still be intact. But she is an incredible woman and was able to set aside her hurt long enough to try to understand the flood of emotions I let loose. It took us several weeks to start to get this sorted. I don’t regret telling her what I did- I do regret letting it fester for so long. I deeply regret hurting this faithful woman by my words.

Here is my takeaway of the Pity Sex Meltdown:

• I (and probably most men) am not quite so simple as the “typical man” stereotype. Hot suppper+Hot sex+TV remote= Happy man is just not true. Not that I don’t love those things, it is just that none of them meet the deep internal need that only intimacy with my wife can. The sooner I grasp this- the sooner we can move into a closer relationship. The longer I believe the stereotype to be true- the closer I get to melting down.
• It is unfair to make her guess at my needs. A manly man will (politely and) directly deal with his desire for sex and need for intimacy. I did tell my wife, sorta, about my growing unhappiness in regard to our intimacy. I just didn’t work hard enough to make sure that she understood me. I let her stay ignorant. I should have been saying, for years, “Please help me understand why I feel empty inside even when we are getting it on.”
• A man will look for substitutes if real marriage intimacy is lacking. Sports, hobbies, clubs, affairs, porn, overworking, you name it. None of them satisfy. In fact, most substitutes for intimacy push him farther from his goal.
• Both husbands and wives crave intimacy. But since wives generally define it more in terms of communication and bonding she can get a fair proxy for her husband’s love through close girlfriendships. Not the same, but passable (according to my wife, anyway). Husbands rarely bond or communicate with other men like the ladies can with their goodgirlfriends. For us, intimacy is expressed in and around a sexual context generally. It is fair to say that feelings of intimacy and sexuality are very much intertwined. Pretty much, (because of the sexual overtones) married men are only free to express intimacy toward one person-their wife. On one hand we are taught to not put all our eggs in one basket, yet that is exactly what is expected of husbands. This helps me understand my hesitancy to commit.
• I like sex, but it is not the reason I chose to marry. If I wanted swing-from-the-branches nightly orgies I would have not chosen marriage. Duh to this point. I married because I wanted to be monogamous and intimately vulnerable to one woman in particular. For as long as we live. So why do I make getting sex a higher priority than becoming intimate? Why do I perpetuate the myth that “all I ever think about is sex”? Why do I persist in asking her to do wilder and wilder (in her mind) things with/to/on me to satisfy my cravings for sexual exploration? I can see how she might think that I don’t care about becoming close to her.
• I must maintain my respectability. AND HERE IS THE MONEY. The Bible says for a man to “love his wife and for the wife to respect her husband.” Respect, especially in the bedroom is key to intimacy for us guys. Is there anything more disrespecting than being offered pity instead of intimacy? Do I feel respected when she does her nails while waiting for me tofinish? Does her only wanting to do me to keep me from looking elsewhere feel respectful? Do I feel the respect when she refers to sex in terms of Kleenex instead of closeness? So guess what- if I want the bedroom respect that really satisfies, I’ve gotta learn how to love selflessly. Loving selflessly is certainly the subject of a book, but real quickly, it means that a good husband expresses himself self-sacrificially. He thinks first of what is most meaningful to her. He gives up all involvements that might detract from intimacy within the marriage. He learns how to speak her love language.

Now that we are past my little meltdown, maybe you are wondering how things are between us. Thanks for asking.

Incredible. Better than we could have dreamed. The intimacy is heart stopping.

We connect more deeply, more naturally, and more often than ever before.

We love making love again. We prioritize time for it. We even enjoy a little experimentation

“Drive differences” between spouses might be overstated, I now think. I used to think we were once a day versus once a month. Turns out we are pretty well matched after all. Frankly, I can’t keep pace with her. I believe in miracles.

We have arrived at a level of honesty that makes life much simpler for us. We can just talk about anything we want. 

There is no question in our minds now that we are committed to each other no matter what. This helps me to allow myself to be more vulnerable to her, which is the thing I feared pre-meltdown.

I also mentioned perceptions. Fact is, I had made a bunch of assumptions that were not true, or were only barely true. And I let those assumptions linger and fester for years. BAD ME.  She had her own perceptions, too, and they indicated that I was not being the man she needed me to be. OUCH. We we not keeping close enough tabs on each other’s intimacy needs. We failed to communicate, which could have easily lead to wanting to separate.

Man, if you find yourself getting pity sex on anything near a regular basis- it is time to man up and put an end to it. It is eroding your marriage. Talk to your wife. Likely she is unaware of your feelings. LEARN TO LOVE HER PROPERLY, too. Commit to understand how you are not being perceived as being a loving husband. Learn her love lanaguage. Become selfless in and out of the bedroom. Earn her respect.

I hope that this hasn’t been TMI for anyone. My guess is that I am not the only man out there who is/has struggled with sexual (intimacy) issues like these. In fact I am sure I am not the only one. I hope that maybe this could be a way to encourage someone to do something before he blows up like I did. I know it took me over 15 years of marriage to begin to figure out my own intimacy needs. I am a little slow.

Blessings  

Technorati Tags: communication, sex

Are you “doin’ that crazy hand jive”?

I am really not sure what possessed me to post about this, but sometimes you just gotta throw down and deal with the consequences . . .

Today’s topic is not about a dance move, if you haven’t picked up on the double entendre yet.

Masturbation:

That’s the crazy hand jive we are gonna discuss.

And I will be so totally Not Offended if you choose to read no further and come back tomorrow.

But if you are still with me, I hope we can push past our embarrassment and talk about something that will improve your marriage. I will confess that this discussion happened only recently in our marriage, and the positive results make me very sorry that we didn’t talk more openly from the very beginning. I was ashamed, so I didn’t feel compelled to initiate talk about this very delicate subject. Turns out that my shame, or embarrassment, was misplaced. She appreciated knowing more about my sexuality, to my great surprise. And she responded, errrr, copiously.

When our kids were little, we made sure that they had an age-appropriate understanding of marital intimacy. It was easy to tell them that “Mommies and Daddies like to hug and cuddle. And a really special part of being married is getting to live and sleep together. Sex is special cuddling that only mommies and daddies do.” This level of “birds and bees” talk was pretty easy, and the euphemisms were fun.

As the kids got older, the “talks” got more into the mechanics of how babies come about and the like. Often these conversations got started quite organically, like the time our little daughter walked into our bathroom when both mom and dad were undressed. “Mommy, why you not have tail like daddy?” was her entree into basic human plumbing 101.

Our oldest 2 kids are boys, so as they approached puberty the “talks” fell into the dad’s jurisdiction. Unfortunately, my parents never told me squat about getting hair down there, morning wood, blue balls, masturbation and the like. We just didn’t talk about sex, period. But I determined that I would do better by my boys, so I very nervously set about trying to create an atmosphere of free expression about sex no matter the topic. I can’t say that we have it down pat, but let me share a joke that our oldest boy told us at the dinner table just last night:

“Dad, have you heard on the news about those babies that are being born with eyelid deformities? Yea, it is really sad, but some doctor came up with a miracle surgery. Somehow he uses the foreskins of circumcised babies and fixes the deformity. The procedure is very effective, except that the babies end up a little cock-eyed.”  We all have a good laugh, even the 11 year old daughter. “Kate, what are laughing about: you don’t know anything about cocks”, says the joke-teller.

“Oh yes I do. I know it is that thing you hold on to inside your pants when you are watching TV. Duh.”

OK, so maybe this kind of dinner table talk is a little more raucous than most Christian families would tolerate, but this Christian man and his wife want to enable their kids to talk about difficult, even sexual subjects, with those who love them. Yes we have talked about masturbation, but not at the dinner table, at least not yet.

And if our little family can benefit from dinner table nasty talk, why can’t my manmail family also benefit from speaking openly about taboo subjects?

I would guess that the typical reader of manmail (and I would like to thank all 2.625 of you) is both married and male. “I am married now: Why would I want to talk about masturbation? That is something just single guys need to do.”

Because you didn’t stop doin’ the hand jive.

Maybe some of you did, but I doubt it. For sure, the early months of marital bliss fooled you into thinking that the days of self satisfaction were blessedly gone. But at some point most guys pick the habit back up.

(Did you notice that I said masturbation and Christianin the same paragraph earlier? Have you decided yet whether I am for it or agin it? Me neither. Keep reading.)

Lots of things might cause us to revert back to our old whacky ways, and they pretty much all involve some type of stress or stressful situation. Could be pregnancy. Or a really big fight.  Stress at work. Unresolved anger. Boredom. Feelings of inadequacy. The length of the list of potential precursors would cause your wife’s jaw to hit the floor, undoubtedly.

Here is how I talked to my boys about masturbation: I told them that is natural for them to want to explore and understand their sexuality, their manhood. A penis is a pretty curious appendage, if you think about it, and typically most guys like to figure out how things work. It is just natural to be inquisitive. You are going to figure how to work that thing and that an orgasm feels good. Sometimes it relieves that great pressure you can get in your balls. But masturbation is not usually your best choice. It is not necessarily wrong, but it is often the result of making unwise choices. Like looking at pornographic images. Like having too much ”alone” time with a girl and giving yourself blueballs. Like giving yourself the right to so much free time that your mind can’t help but wander to inappropriate places.

And so I say a similar thing to you married men: It isn’t necessarily wrong, but it is an accurate indicator that there is something amiss in your relationship with your wife. There is a reason that you are pleasuring yourself to avoid intimacy with your wife.  There is always a reason we choose to give a brief moment of orgasmic pleasure to ourselves instead of investing that same time into our intimacy with our wife.

And no, the Bible doesn’t have much to say about this subject. Some preachers will mention the “sin of Onan”, but that passage is completely not about masturbation. Way off base.

The Bible does indirectly discuss masturbation, in the context of denying love or affection to your spouse. It seems to indicate that if you can do it to yourself in such a way as to not cause your spouse to feel cheated or less loved (or icky about the whole thing), then I suppose you have the right to do it for yourself. Perhaps “concession” would be a word to apply to this activity: not the most noble of endeavors, but okay if both agree about it. But It would seem to me that your wife would need to be aware of and approving of this activity for it to have any chance of becoming edifying to your relationship. 

So, yes, there might good and legitimate reasons for a married man to masturbate. This situation could qualify: your wife is pregnant or seriously ill and has physical restrictions. She knows that you get grumpy after prolonged abstinence and encourages you care for yourself temporarily.  Or perhaps you two are physically apart because of work: a little phone sex (with each other) with a happy ending could be just the ticket. Maybe you are a guy who is (ahem) rather quick. She might appreciate the extra endurance that a handjob done in advance could give you. (’Course, she could do that job for you. Just saying.)

But I believe the vast majority of the time, we are doing it to avoid intimacy. Not good. Not good because masturbation doesn’t feed our soul. It just gets us off. But that good feeling is so fleeting: “Oh great, my balls feel better but I’m still frustrated, the stressful situation is still there. Back to reality now, except now that my ejaculation urge is satisfied, I feel even less motivated to try to connect with my wife. Maybe I will just beat off again tonight after she falls asleep.” Follow me?

Sorry for being blunt about this.

Another HUGE reason guys masturbate is because they are choosing to look at pornography. This is NEVER good or right, and I am so happy to see more man blogs taking this stance. They say it is addicting: I don’t know. I do know that looking at that stuff is like injecting nitrous oxide into your sex drive. Problem is that you are using images of other women to do it. Going through the process of initiation, arousal, and ejaculation is pretty much called having sex. And in this case it is with someone you haven’t even met or know. Ask your wife how she feels about this: Bet she says that sounds like adultery to her. It does to me , too. Next time you’ve got a porno mag in your left hand and your woody in the right: consider that masturbation is adultery.

Some men become habitual masturbators because they are convinced that their wife’s sex drive is so much different than their own. This may be true for you, but it is more likely true that you have not allowed yourself to meet her intimacy needs. Generally, when a wife’s need for emotional and spiritual connection are met she becomes much more turned on and responsive to her man’s sexual initiation. It is even likely that she will initiate sex more often with you when her tank is full. I am not saying that she will necessarily feel the same physical pressure you do to seek release, but a wife who’s emotional and spiritual tank is overflowing will most certainly be most receptive to her husband’s advances.

Who would have thought that the thing that frustrates many men: mismatched drives: is most likely perpetuated by the activity that he supposes will relieve his tension: masturbation? (And, yes, I know that there are a fair number of couples out there where the wife has a higher drive than the husband. I am guilty of generalization and stereotyping.)

You might even be doing it for righteous reasons, like believing that your sex drive is putting unfair pressure on your wife to perform. So you help yourself so that she doesn’t feel like you are some kind of maniac; what with wanting her every other day or more. Odds are good that she would choose to be intimate more often rather than picture you taking care of yourself in the bathroom. I will buy you a cup of coffee if this doesn’t prove to be true.

It seems to be accepted as gospel that the only thing on men’s minds is sex. You know; “every six seconds”, blah blah blah. WRONG-O. Sure an orgasm feels good. But the big secret is that men (real manly men anyway) crave intimacy just as much as our wives do. Problem is that we do stupid stuff that causes our wives to believe we prefer sexualness over intimacy. Like staring at other women’s breasts. Or going to Hooters for lunch with the guys. Or masturbating. Nothing like like a solo ejaculation to prove this point to her. She needs to become 100% certain she is the one and only locus of focus of your sexual attention. She needs to know that you prefer her even more than you love your own orgasms.

How about the guy that secretly masturbates while thinking of his wife doing all those things to/on/with/for him that she doesn’t do now? This is certainly better than gawking at porn, for sure. But is this guy just setting himself up for disappointment if she never becomes his Madonna? I think this kind of thinking has the great potential to cause a man to become bitter at her for his unspoken fantasies. Not that fantasies are necessarily wrong: He just needs to include her in the festivities if he intends to keep intimacy alive in their marriage. She married you with the hopes of being that special one person who could thrill you: Give her the chance and stop doin’ that crazy hand jive.

“I masturbate because it is less lonely than the duty sex she doles out.” Oh man, this one cuts close to the hearts of so many men. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge when a couple gets to this stage. If you find yourself feeling this way I strongly suggest talking to your wife about your feelings and seeking experienced counsel. You are close to the brink. That hand jive might be keeping you alive, but it is just a band-aid on a shark bite.

“Our schedules are just too crazy for us to get together for sex very often. I masturbate to take the edge off.” May I just state the obvious? YOU ARE TOO FREAKIN’ BUSY ! Now I am not talking about the periodic busy times that come up occasionally, like at the holidays. But in general, if you are so busy that palm time is all you can manage, then it is a good bet that your wife is not getting her emotional needs met either. Does this sound like a sustainable situation? I suggest making immediate corrections, even if it means giving up the time share in Cancun.

So we are nearly 2100 words into a taboo subject and you are still reading. Good Lord, you are patient.

Here is the crux of the matter: We can spin our wheels all day long debating the rightness or wrongness of the Big M and probably not sway anyone’s opinion. 

What is not up for debate is the fact that masturbation within a marriage is a measure of deeper issues within the two individuals.  I guess it just took me this long to say that if you are doin’ the hand jive very often at all, I would start looking introspectively at the reasons. Sorry for being so long worded.  

Men, we are doin’ that crazy hand jive as a response to stress and unmet expectations. It would be the manly thing to address these issues before they bust up your marriage, or at least rob the joy of marriage from you. Don’t you feel it is part of your duty to your kids to demonstrate and live out a happy and fulfilled marriage?

OK, so here is my challenge to you: talk to your wife about the hand jive. Tonight. Print off a copy of this post and show it to her: use it as a discussion starter. I threw it down- now you pick it up and run with it.

I guarantee that, if you haven’t had this talk already, this will be one of the most difficult and awkward talks you two have had to date. But, if your experience is half as good as mine your relationship and trust in one another will blossom because you initiated this conversation about such a touchy subject.

Let me know how it goes. And tell me how to get that little tune out of my head now.

Blessings

Technorati Tags: communication, marriage, sex

I met the Postmistress and 3 of our kids for lunch at The Happiest Place on Earth today.

Not Disneyland, though we live close enough we could do that. But that would be so old school for this modern family. I mean, seriously, if we measure the happiness of a place by how much money we spend each time we go there . . . I sure don’t see Mr. Toad flippin’ back any $300 rebate checks each spring.

Costco fine dining, anyone?

Buck and a half for a dog and coke.

So, here we all sit at those tables that strangely resemble the ones from grade school. Packed together real close. Brushing backs with the sweaty lady in the ballcap. Actually saying hello to someone you recognize from soccer last season. Sharing the other end of the table with Laurel and Hardy, who look like they could be married.

And you think we could just smile and make a little small talk with each other. Nothing heavy ’cause we’re just hooking up for a quick lunch. Should be plenty of safe topics at hand for the next half-hour: “Nice weather, how were finals, what would you like to do this weekend, can I buy a new bike, how’s your day.” How hard can it be, really?

We could have carried on with the nice conversation about the raccoon family that broke into the dogfood bin last night. That caught my attention.  I thought it was really cute when they paused to wash their little paws in the swimming pool. Judging by the hysterics of my wife at 3:00am, one would think that this would warrant at least a few minutes of banter. Nah.

What about the dangerous gang of rodents that moved in to clean up the mess the racoons left behind? I thought it clever that they would climb the screen door outside our bedroom, then launch their little selves into the waiting dogfood bin. Sleep deprived and still in intruder alert mode, the wife pulled back the drapes at 4:00 am to see what was making such a clatter and locked eyes with a certain Mr. Mouse, who deftly performed a backflip for her into the dogfood bin. Did I mention how fond she is of beady eyes and hairless tails? HO HUM.

“So what exactly were you thinking when you went outside to scare off the ‘coons in the nude?” The mistress inquires.

“I didn’t imagine I had time to put on a suit, what with all the hysterics you were throwing off.”

“You know how mean those things can get. What if they turned around and attacked you? How would we explain the wounds on the private parts to the emergency room doctor?” Devious grins were exchanged between boys. Demure, knowing smiles crossed the faces of the girls. Dad was in the crosshairs again.

I suppose the mental picture was just too much for everyone. A Vulcan Mind Meld occurred between the 4 of them: A Mom who should know better, a 17 year old boy who knows too much, an 11 year old girl who has heard waaay too much, and our 7 going on 17 year old boy. “I have an idea . . . Let’s talk about Dad’s vasectomy!” Here in Costco. While rubbing backs with Mrs. sweaty-back. And maybe we should all sing It’s a Small World After All.”

“Those raccoons could have saved you some money on the operation, Dad.” Hoo-boy, here we go. Some men receive  honor through the retelling of stories of past greatness.  Some men’s children sit quietly in rapt attention while dad tells stories of his prowess on the athletic field. Some men have kids that brag on their dad-you know:”My dad can beat your dad” kind of stuff.  Some men.

They wanted to rehash V-day. “A day that will live in infamy” to loosly quote FDR.

“So, like, you’re sitting there in just your shirt when the doctor comes in? Just your shirt? Nothing else? Weren’t you really embarrassed to have another guy poking around down there?” the mistress prods. Somehow, my sterilization has become a cathartic experience for my wife. The 6 months prior to her “yearly exam” are a simmering pot of anticipatory stress. Then, for 6 months after, I hear about how lucky I am not to be a lady and how humiliating the “yearly” is and “How would you like to put your feet up in stirrups?” So I suppose fair is fair. Have at me. Just not in Costco, please.

“Well, it didn’t hurt did it?”

“Not at first.” And the cutting really didn’t hurt. <Exaggeration alert>Different story when he pulled the first nad out and tucked it in the cleft of my first two toes. Only minor relief when he tucked it back in. The balance of the procedure took place on the ceiling. <End alert> In the end, it was only 2 or 3 minutes of agony. He forgot to mention that some men feel a little discomfort during the tie-off.

“Didn’t you want to watch what he was doing?”

“Honey, you forget I am the man who fainted last time I had blood drawn. And I would want to watch such a delicate procedure?”

And here is where things went south: Michael says, “Yeah, I have watched a vasectomy before. I saw how they cut the tubes, fold them over and put the little clips on them. I can’t see how those tubes would ever grow back together.” I stare, intrigued to find out if he is just messing with me. “Really, I saw one done on a cadaver in Biology class. Saw it done to a dog when the class visited the Vet, too. I even did one myself during a dissection.”

Well, this boy has been around.

“Your whole class, even the girls, watched a vasectomy on a dead guy?”

“Sure, it was neat. They wanted to show us how a surgery was done and they didn’t have a lot of time, so they did a V.” Neither I nor my wife knew what to say. Who knew our 17 year-old had gotten such an education? And I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned this until now, since the last Biology class he took was last year.

I suppose he thought that if he brought up those particular anatomy lessons at the time, his parents would then feel license to discuss more personal anatomy issues with him. And he would have been right. I am so glad that he is feeling more secure about himself today. I guess I don’t mind being the object of their jokes if that helps him along with sorting out his manhood.

I think I have forgotten the turmoil that is going on in our kids as they continually work through the process of growing up. Progressing from little kid, to big kid, to young adult, to adulthood is a herky-jerky affair. I remember a lot of self-doubt and insecurity inside my self. I wished more people would have initaited conversations that would allow me to explore the questions I had. I wish now that my parents were more vulnerable.

I was glad for the reminder that we cannot ever take the job of parenting lightly. Even when we just want to have a simple lunch at the local warehouse store. Our children need to see us model how to talk about “difficult” subjects. I think we owe them vulnerability: it helps us to be perceived as more accessible to them.

I owe my dear wife a debt of gratitude for her leadership in this area. Her “gift of gab” is truly a gift to our children.

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