Why I Had to Ravish my Husband

Marriage Advice from a Wife Dominatrix: Last weekend I wanted to eat my husband alive. His eyes were more cerulean blue than a ‘Sconset sky on a bike-ride Sunday. His pecs were glorious mounds of muscled filet mignon and just looking at his wrists and hands, both surgeon-pianist delicate and stevedore strong, had me feeling decidedly … how shall we say, damp?

Michael Kissing Me in the ocean pic
(With my sweetheart before giving birth to my beloved succubi.)

If you are my mother-in-law stop reading this right now … I’m serious, just walk away … go whip up a batch of Coq Au Vin … I can still see you hiding behind the potted fern in the vestibule … I’m contacting Edward Snowden in the furthest reaches of Siberia to have him hack into your computer and shut it down or maybe worse … he and I only communicate in cryptographic code so it's very spy games.

Alright. I think that scared her.

So, fellow married people. Why? Why did I find my husband of thirteen years (on May 27th) so hot I was tempted to become a cannibal? I'll tell you why ... there were no children around. Not. One.

It took me almost eleven years to realize that when my mom comes down here to visit us from her gorgeous ranch-style home in Hope Ranch, Santa Barbara that means her home is EMPTY.

No one is there.

There are whole empty bedrooms with empty beds. There’s a whole empty kitchen with a full refrigerator. There’s an incredible mountain view that NO ONE is seeing.

And guess what? Henry and I don’t have to pay money to stay there! It’s actually fucking free!!!

I had a bonafide AHA! moment! My mom can stay here with the kids -- her days as a 1970s Peyton's Place bored housewife tippling martinis drenched in cocaine are over and, if not, the kids are old enough to post her bail should the need arise (don't ask me how I know).

So Henry and I can drive two hours away, let ourselves into my mom's house, disconnect all means of communication on our bodies and in our bags, and actually BE ALONE! Not just physically, but mentally too.

Over the last year it’s been really hard to find our Couple Mojo because the onslaught of two girls in puberty has maimed our romantic love receptors. We've basically been roommates who tag team with the kids. I'd gotten in the habit of thinking, well, I like the guy. He’s really kind, he’s really helpful, he saves my ass day after day by taking over 50% of the parenting, he’s just an all out good guy who I enjoy using as a security blanket at night, pressing my chest into his back and sleeping as spoons.

But hot stuff? We've had to force it. (which is a good thing, it's like bread, but you've got to have some caviar from time to time.)

Who knew all it took was 48 hours alone, not as parents, for me to fall in love with my man all over again? He looked good, he smelled good and, it must be said, he tasted good (I'm referring to his earlobes, of course).

We’re home now. The closer our vehicle came to our house that door of romance began to close again. And when we opened the front door and two beloved daughters spilled out and into our arms, desperate to inform us of how big an asshole the other one had been during our absence, the romance door slammed shut and we were parents again.

But here’s the good news, we can do this again, maybe in the not too distant future. And now I know the man I’m hot for is still there and he’s better than anything else going.

 (If you'd like more of my marital tomfoolery you can sign up for FREE UPDATES or LIKE ME ON FACEBOOK. Onward ho!)

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