Dear Madame Toujours,
How long after having sex should a person wait before swimming?
Sincerely,
Careful
Cher M. ou Madame Careful,
Half the hour. If you are swimming too soon, your lover will be thinking that you are the big jerk. I am recommending that you are swimming first. This is the very good warm-up for preventing the cramps and improving the aerobic fitness.
Dear Madame Toujours,
What is the best way to handle an embarrassing personal bodily noise on a first date?
Sincerely,
Blushing
Cher M. ou Mlle. Blushing,
This is depending on whether you or your date for the evening is making the unfortunate sounds. If you are suspecting that your date is being the culprit, resist the urge to be jumping up in surprise and uttering the startled cry.
If you are being the guilty party, then it is more difficult. Upon emitting the undesirable noises, raise your head, glance suspiciously around at the other persons in the theatre or restaurant, then return your attention to your dinner or your conversation, making very clear with your expression that you are being far above noticing the vulgar noises.
Ah, but what if you are alone with the date and there is being nobody else to accuse? This is not the big emergency. Simply cock your head and demand to know if your date is "hearing that sound." Next, suggest that he or she "have it checked by the professional." As the alternative, you may insist that you are hearing the cry of the North American barking tarantula, the very large and aggressive hunting spider. Insist on going indoors immediately. If the date is still being dubious, suggest calling 911.
Dear Madame Toujours,
When meeting a woman for the first time, I often wonder whether to address her as Mrs. Miss, or Ms., and even when I surreptitiously check her ring finger, I guess wrong more than half the time. Is there some way to figure out which form of address to use before some woman snaps my head off?
Sincerely,
Headless
Cher M. Headless,
Non. There is being absolutely no way to be knowing this unless you are being formally introduced. This is one of the many privileges of being the woman. The woman, she is always knowing the correct address for les hommes, but the men, they can only be guessing for the women.
To make this even more amusing, Mme. ou Mlle. is being perfectly free to be waiting for you to make the best guess, and then no matter what you are guessing, she can be telling you that you are wrong and scorning you because you are being the big, hairy male chauvinist pig.
Bon Chance, Cher Readers, and remember that the etiquette, it is the foundation of the romance.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Dear Madame Toujours,
My husband complains I am no fun when he is drunk. I married him because 95% of the time, he is the sweetest, gentlest most easygoing person I have ever met, but when we go out late with friends, my sensitive guy turns assertive and opinionated, and one of his opinions is that I am a party pooper when I insist on driving home and not dancing naked in public fountains.
I could live with the fact that he turns into an ignorant, insensitive boob when he's inebriated. Our friends all love him anyway, and it really happens only once a month or so. It just really frosts my fanny to blush and apologize through a dinner party only to have Richie accuse me the next day of embarrassing him by being a stick-in-the-mud. Is there a solution?
Sincerely
Not the Life of the Party
Chere Mme. Party,
There are being only the two solutions to your big trouble. Either you must become very, very amusing at the parties, or you must demonstrate to M. Richie that he is being the big, obnoxious boob. Since I am assuming that you are not being interested in entertaining your friends by singing "Cabaret" while sitting in the punchbowl wearing only the feather boa, we will be concentrating on M. Richie.
Since you are saying that M. Richie is the very sensitive fellow when he is not wearing the lampshades on the head, I am recommending that you are presenting him with the documentation. You see that the problem is being that M. Richie is waking up in the morning and remembering that he was being very suave and erudite—much like M. James Bond. This is because his brains are being swollen from the alcohol.
For you is being the responsibility to correct for him the faulty memory.
I am not recommending that you are telling him that he is the big, stupid boob. This is only making him feel hurt and resentful and possibly driving him to drink. Non, I am telling you it is time to purchase for yourself the sleek, little video camera. Involve M. Richie in the purchase. Encourage him to study all of the gadgets and the settings. This is important because somebody will have to be knowing how to be plugging it into the television.
Now you can be bringing the camera to the parties with you. Playfully record all of M. Richie's adventures. At the very least, this will be making M. Richie to feel that you are being the very amusing person to take so much the big interest in him.
Wait several weeks. The next time that you are having the friends to visit, leap up from the chair and cry, "Let us be watching the very amusing video of M. Richie that I made at the party."
Now, while you are watching the video, you will point to the television where M. Richie is staggering about with the red face and the foolish expression and say, "Ha ha. My Richie, he is the card, n'est pas?" Possibly, M. Richie will begin to think that perhaps he should be sticking to the root beer at the parties, but more importantly, he will be convinced that you are, in fact, being very much more playful and frolicsome than he was once supposing.
Bon Chance, Mme. Party, and perhaps you should be learning all the words to "Cabaret" just in case.
My husband complains I am no fun when he is drunk. I married him because 95% of the time, he is the sweetest, gentlest most easygoing person I have ever met, but when we go out late with friends, my sensitive guy turns assertive and opinionated, and one of his opinions is that I am a party pooper when I insist on driving home and not dancing naked in public fountains.
I could live with the fact that he turns into an ignorant, insensitive boob when he's inebriated. Our friends all love him anyway, and it really happens only once a month or so. It just really frosts my fanny to blush and apologize through a dinner party only to have Richie accuse me the next day of embarrassing him by being a stick-in-the-mud. Is there a solution?
Sincerely
Not the Life of the Party
Chere Mme. Party,
There are being only the two solutions to your big trouble. Either you must become very, very amusing at the parties, or you must demonstrate to M. Richie that he is being the big, obnoxious boob. Since I am assuming that you are not being interested in entertaining your friends by singing "Cabaret" while sitting in the punchbowl wearing only the feather boa, we will be concentrating on M. Richie.
Since you are saying that M. Richie is the very sensitive fellow when he is not wearing the lampshades on the head, I am recommending that you are presenting him with the documentation. You see that the problem is being that M. Richie is waking up in the morning and remembering that he was being very suave and erudite—much like M. James Bond. This is because his brains are being swollen from the alcohol.
For you is being the responsibility to correct for him the faulty memory.
I am not recommending that you are telling him that he is the big, stupid boob. This is only making him feel hurt and resentful and possibly driving him to drink. Non, I am telling you it is time to purchase for yourself the sleek, little video camera. Involve M. Richie in the purchase. Encourage him to study all of the gadgets and the settings. This is important because somebody will have to be knowing how to be plugging it into the television.
Now you can be bringing the camera to the parties with you. Playfully record all of M. Richie's adventures. At the very least, this will be making M. Richie to feel that you are being the very amusing person to take so much the big interest in him.
Wait several weeks. The next time that you are having the friends to visit, leap up from the chair and cry, "Let us be watching the very amusing video of M. Richie that I made at the party."
Now, while you are watching the video, you will point to the television where M. Richie is staggering about with the red face and the foolish expression and say, "Ha ha. My Richie, he is the card, n'est pas?" Possibly, M. Richie will begin to think that perhaps he should be sticking to the root beer at the parties, but more importantly, he will be convinced that you are, in fact, being very much more playful and frolicsome than he was once supposing.
Bon Chance, Mme. Party, and perhaps you should be learning all the words to "Cabaret" just in case.
Dear Madame Toujours,
Well, it has finally happened. My boyfriend of the past three years has finally asked me to marry him. Madame Toujours, I just don't know. For one thing, my three teenage sons are not particularly fond of Zeke. They ignore him, and he is always making jokes about sending them to military school.
Zeke has even gone over finances, and he says that, between my nursing salary and his unemployment check, we can easily afford military school for the boys. Then if I quit school, we could use the tuition money from my parents to bring his daughters to live with us and put them in a private school near our home.
On the one hand, I can see his point. The boys are completely out of control. They seem angry all the time, which is strange because they used to be sweet, happy children. On the other hand, I can't think how I would manage without them. I work all day then go to school at night. If it weren't for the boys, who would do the laundry, clean the house, cook dinner and take care of all those nagging little household repairs?
I don't know what to do.
Sincerely,
Confused
Chere Mlle. Confused,
Here is being the perfect example of the fellow who is NOT the ornament to your life. I am hoping very sincerely that he is the enormously pretty fellow because if he is not, then I am not understanding why you have not thrown him out onto the street and found for yourself the new lover.
M. Zeke, he is not the decent, honest gigolo who is making himself pleasant and charming to the family and the friends. Non, he is pretending that he is doing for you the big favor to be in love with you. Meanwhile, as you are working very hard to support him, he is getting rid of the inconvenient boys who are the rivals for his power and making room for the daughters so that he will not be having to pay any of the child supports.
Eh bien, always, I am hearing from les femmes, "Ce n'est pas possible. He is not having these thoughts. He is the poor, helpless one. If I am throwing him out, how will he eat? Where will he sleep? Who will be taking care of his children?"
Of course you are thinking this. You are not heartless. You are the very kind person. What you are not realizing is that M. Zeke, he will weep, and he will bluster, and he will make the very big noise. Then, when you are ignoring the big tantrum, he will go down the street to the house of your neighbor who has always been spiteful to you, and he will live with her.
Bon Chance, Mlle. Undecided. Do not worry. M. Zeke, he will be always landing on his feet.
Well, it has finally happened. My boyfriend of the past three years has finally asked me to marry him. Madame Toujours, I just don't know. For one thing, my three teenage sons are not particularly fond of Zeke. They ignore him, and he is always making jokes about sending them to military school.
Zeke has even gone over finances, and he says that, between my nursing salary and his unemployment check, we can easily afford military school for the boys. Then if I quit school, we could use the tuition money from my parents to bring his daughters to live with us and put them in a private school near our home.
On the one hand, I can see his point. The boys are completely out of control. They seem angry all the time, which is strange because they used to be sweet, happy children. On the other hand, I can't think how I would manage without them. I work all day then go to school at night. If it weren't for the boys, who would do the laundry, clean the house, cook dinner and take care of all those nagging little household repairs?
I don't know what to do.
Sincerely,
Confused
Chere Mlle. Confused,
Here is being the perfect example of the fellow who is NOT the ornament to your life. I am hoping very sincerely that he is the enormously pretty fellow because if he is not, then I am not understanding why you have not thrown him out onto the street and found for yourself the new lover.
M. Zeke, he is not the decent, honest gigolo who is making himself pleasant and charming to the family and the friends. Non, he is pretending that he is doing for you the big favor to be in love with you. Meanwhile, as you are working very hard to support him, he is getting rid of the inconvenient boys who are the rivals for his power and making room for the daughters so that he will not be having to pay any of the child supports.
Eh bien, always, I am hearing from les femmes, "Ce n'est pas possible. He is not having these thoughts. He is the poor, helpless one. If I am throwing him out, how will he eat? Where will he sleep? Who will be taking care of his children?"
Of course you are thinking this. You are not heartless. You are the very kind person. What you are not realizing is that M. Zeke, he will weep, and he will bluster, and he will make the very big noise. Then, when you are ignoring the big tantrum, he will go down the street to the house of your neighbor who has always been spiteful to you, and he will live with her.
Bon Chance, Mlle. Undecided. Do not worry. M. Zeke, he will be always landing on his feet.
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am a young woman, twenty-seven, and my lover (Herbert) and I are planning to get married in about six months and I am trying to plan the wedding. This is harder than I expected. We are thinking of having some kind of theme wedding. You know, a western wedding, or a hillbilly wedding where Dad walks me down the aisle with a shotgun over his arm, or maybe a nude wedding; I have heard that this is very touching. What do you think would make a good theme?
Sincerely,
Want to do something different
Chere Mlle. Different,
What is it that you are thinking? You are wishing maybe to kill your mother? Me, I am not understanding what for is the wishing to be different with the wedding. The wedding, it is not for the young people who are getting married. It is for the mother who is wishing that she had not been in the family way when she was married and so did not have the time to plan the big, fussy wedding.
It is for the father who is wishing that his baby girl, she was not grown up. For him you are wearing the silly, white dress that is like the one that you wore when you were the little girl. Your father, maybe he is wishing that he was not having to pay for the very big, expensive wedding, but the dress, it is the one thing that he is not minding to pay for. Especially, he is not wishing to see his baby girl in the nude with the bosoms and so on.
Now me, I am wondering why it is that you are wishing to get married at all. If, as you Americans say, you are getting the milk for free, then why is it that you are wishing to buy the cow?
Bien sur, in the old days when I was the girl, it was that the careers for the women, they were not exciting. You could be the washerwoman, the seamstress, the milkmaid, the prostitute. Yes, you could have the little business in the home that pays for the meals. You could be for yourself the employer, but there is not the advancement, the growth, the satisfaction of crushing the employees beneath the heels. So the woman, she married the man who was the most wealthy, and she bought for herself all the clothes and the jewels and the silly, little dogs that could make her happy.
So you can see that you are the very lucky one who is not having the need to be married. You can have the lover and the exciting career and grind the employees under the heels all at the same time. Unless it is that your Herbert, he is the very wealthy fellow? This is good. Especially this is good in the state which has the laws about the community property.
Bon chance, Mlle. Different, and repeat to yourself every morning, “His money, it is my money and my money, it is my money, too.”
I am a young woman, twenty-seven, and my lover (Herbert) and I are planning to get married in about six months and I am trying to plan the wedding. This is harder than I expected. We are thinking of having some kind of theme wedding. You know, a western wedding, or a hillbilly wedding where Dad walks me down the aisle with a shotgun over his arm, or maybe a nude wedding; I have heard that this is very touching. What do you think would make a good theme?
Sincerely,
Want to do something different
Chere Mlle. Different,
What is it that you are thinking? You are wishing maybe to kill your mother? Me, I am not understanding what for is the wishing to be different with the wedding. The wedding, it is not for the young people who are getting married. It is for the mother who is wishing that she had not been in the family way when she was married and so did not have the time to plan the big, fussy wedding.
It is for the father who is wishing that his baby girl, she was not grown up. For him you are wearing the silly, white dress that is like the one that you wore when you were the little girl. Your father, maybe he is wishing that he was not having to pay for the very big, expensive wedding, but the dress, it is the one thing that he is not minding to pay for. Especially, he is not wishing to see his baby girl in the nude with the bosoms and so on.
Now me, I am wondering why it is that you are wishing to get married at all. If, as you Americans say, you are getting the milk for free, then why is it that you are wishing to buy the cow?
Bien sur, in the old days when I was the girl, it was that the careers for the women, they were not exciting. You could be the washerwoman, the seamstress, the milkmaid, the prostitute. Yes, you could have the little business in the home that pays for the meals. You could be for yourself the employer, but there is not the advancement, the growth, the satisfaction of crushing the employees beneath the heels. So the woman, she married the man who was the most wealthy, and she bought for herself all the clothes and the jewels and the silly, little dogs that could make her happy.
So you can see that you are the very lucky one who is not having the need to be married. You can have the lover and the exciting career and grind the employees under the heels all at the same time. Unless it is that your Herbert, he is the very wealthy fellow? This is good. Especially this is good in the state which has the laws about the community property.
Bon chance, Mlle. Different, and repeat to yourself every morning, “His money, it is my money and my money, it is my money, too.”
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am concerned. Recently my lover of five years has started calling me "Stubby. I do not think of this as a term of endearment. I told him as much, and he hit me on the shoulder in a friendly and jocular way. Obviously, the thrill is gone, but I care about the big galoot and I want to renew our passion. What can I do?
Sincerely,
"Stubby"
Chere Mlle. Stubby,
Very wisely you are turning to me before it is too late. Eh bien, if your lover has begun to call you, for example, Blobby or Pudgy, then I would be compelled to advise that you crush him publicly in a most painful fashion, and get for yourself the new lover.
"Stubby, however, this is not so bad. Vraiment, you are moving into a new phase of your relationship. Ce n’est pas le disastre. What you must do now is cling like the limpet to the old phase wherein he was addressing you as his "Little Love Blossom or at least "Fire of my Passion. If he was never calling you "Love Blossom" or "Fire of my Passion", crush him publicly and get yourself the new lover.
But non, you are wishing to keep your galoot. Tres bien. You see, he comes now to think that he is the only one for you, that you will not leave him, that he can impugn your height with the impunity. C’est tres maleheur. I will tell you what to do:
1. Wear the red or the black dress.
2. Go out in the evening without him.
3. Come back.
4. Be imprecise about your activities. For example, "Where have I been? Oh, with friends, or "What have I been doing? oh, not much."
5. Repeat steps one through four two or three times a month until your lover ceases to call you by the unflattering nicknames, then reduce to once a month.
I give you one word of warning. I do not tell you to have the affair: you wish to inflame your lover not (in this case) to crush him. Also, you will wish to have the proof of your innocence in case he is too much inflamed and accuses you of the unfaithfulness. You then present for him the assorted theater tickets, receipts and friendly witness who will say that they saw you to resist the advances of the many eager paramours. Handle this properly, and your lover will feel guilty and be very attentive to you for a month or so.
Bon chance, Mlle. Stubby and as we say in France, Vive L'amour
I am concerned. Recently my lover of five years has started calling me "Stubby. I do not think of this as a term of endearment. I told him as much, and he hit me on the shoulder in a friendly and jocular way. Obviously, the thrill is gone, but I care about the big galoot and I want to renew our passion. What can I do?
Sincerely,
"Stubby"
Chere Mlle. Stubby,
Very wisely you are turning to me before it is too late. Eh bien, if your lover has begun to call you, for example, Blobby or Pudgy, then I would be compelled to advise that you crush him publicly in a most painful fashion, and get for yourself the new lover.
"Stubby, however, this is not so bad. Vraiment, you are moving into a new phase of your relationship. Ce n’est pas le disastre. What you must do now is cling like the limpet to the old phase wherein he was addressing you as his "Little Love Blossom or at least "Fire of my Passion. If he was never calling you "Love Blossom" or "Fire of my Passion", crush him publicly and get yourself the new lover.
But non, you are wishing to keep your galoot. Tres bien. You see, he comes now to think that he is the only one for you, that you will not leave him, that he can impugn your height with the impunity. C’est tres maleheur. I will tell you what to do:
1. Wear the red or the black dress.
2. Go out in the evening without him.
3. Come back.
4. Be imprecise about your activities. For example, "Where have I been? Oh, with friends, or "What have I been doing? oh, not much."
5. Repeat steps one through four two or three times a month until your lover ceases to call you by the unflattering nicknames, then reduce to once a month.
I give you one word of warning. I do not tell you to have the affair: you wish to inflame your lover not (in this case) to crush him. Also, you will wish to have the proof of your innocence in case he is too much inflamed and accuses you of the unfaithfulness. You then present for him the assorted theater tickets, receipts and friendly witness who will say that they saw you to resist the advances of the many eager paramours. Handle this properly, and your lover will feel guilty and be very attentive to you for a month or so.
Bon chance, Mlle. Stubby and as we say in France, Vive L'amour
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am a 25-year-old woman. A few days ago, a young man who I know slightly asked me out to dinner. He is good-looking, has a good job and is a very good conversationalist. The problem is this: I think he may be as psychopathic ax murderer. We have several mutual friends, and it is hard for me to avoid meeting him in social situations. What should I do? I am thinking of changing my phone number and moving out of town.
Sincerely,
Spooked
Chere Mademoiselle Spooked,
Ah, how I am missing the old days in France when the parents, they chose the husband, and the woman, she was only worrying about her lovers. C'est difficile, aujourd'hui to know the important details about a young man, but me, I will tell you what to do.
Some women, they have the difficulty to find out what kind of man is the one who has asked them to dinner. You have the big advantage because you are having the mutual friends. Is he the big chum for everybody, or does he lurk in dark corners and talk to the people who are invisible? Does he own the ax of his own? Does he spend the moonless nights digging the holes in his basement?
Speak to the past lovers of your gentleman friend. Are they all alive? Do they disappear in the mysterious fashion? These, they are the warning signs.
"So," you say, "What if I am asking all the questions and everybody says he is OK for everything?"
Me, I know ce n'est pas comfortable, the dating. There is the nervousness, the spilling of water in the lap, the spinach between the teeth. Almost, it is better if he is the ax murderer, non? But, l'amour, she is finding in the strange places sometimes.
But perhaps you are not wanting l'amour. Perhaps, the big fear with the ax murderer, it is because you are wishing to live alone with the forty cats and spy on the neighbors, oui? Me, I prefer l'amour, but I do not say that you must have a lover. The cats, they are the good company. They are affectionate. They are grateful to you for the food.
Bon chance, Mademoiselle Spooked. Do not forget to lock the doors on the moonless nights.
I am a 25-year-old woman. A few days ago, a young man who I know slightly asked me out to dinner. He is good-looking, has a good job and is a very good conversationalist. The problem is this: I think he may be as psychopathic ax murderer. We have several mutual friends, and it is hard for me to avoid meeting him in social situations. What should I do? I am thinking of changing my phone number and moving out of town.
Sincerely,
Spooked
Chere Mademoiselle Spooked,
Ah, how I am missing the old days in France when the parents, they chose the husband, and the woman, she was only worrying about her lovers. C'est difficile, aujourd'hui to know the important details about a young man, but me, I will tell you what to do.
Some women, they have the difficulty to find out what kind of man is the one who has asked them to dinner. You have the big advantage because you are having the mutual friends. Is he the big chum for everybody, or does he lurk in dark corners and talk to the people who are invisible? Does he own the ax of his own? Does he spend the moonless nights digging the holes in his basement?
Speak to the past lovers of your gentleman friend. Are they all alive? Do they disappear in the mysterious fashion? These, they are the warning signs.
"So," you say, "What if I am asking all the questions and everybody says he is OK for everything?"
Me, I know ce n'est pas comfortable, the dating. There is the nervousness, the spilling of water in the lap, the spinach between the teeth. Almost, it is better if he is the ax murderer, non? But, l'amour, she is finding in the strange places sometimes.
But perhaps you are not wanting l'amour. Perhaps, the big fear with the ax murderer, it is because you are wishing to live alone with the forty cats and spy on the neighbors, oui? Me, I prefer l'amour, but I do not say that you must have a lover. The cats, they are the good company. They are affectionate. They are grateful to you for the food.
Bon chance, Mademoiselle Spooked. Do not forget to lock the doors on the moonless nights.
The Kiss
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am getting married in two weeks to my boyfriend Elwood. I have been planning this wedding for two years. I had to quit job as a teller at the bank three months ago because the wedding was taking up so much of my time, and you wouldn't believe how expensive everything is, although I am saving almost five-hundred dollars on flowers by buying a vacant lot and planting a flower garden in it.
Anyway, I thought I had everything under control until my aunt Gerta asked me, "Now honey, what are you doing about the kiss?"
The kiss? I thought at least we had that covered. I mean, Elwood and I have been kissing regularly now for almost three years. Is there some kind of special wedding kiss we're supposed to know about? Is it supposed to be open-mouth? Closed mouth? Wet? Dry? What do you advise?
Sincerely,
Frazzled Bride
Chere Mlle. Bride,
Bien sur, the wedding kiss, it is being the exceedingly important business. You will be in front of the crowd of people all watching closely and judging your performance on the basis of the style, the creativity and the conviction. Everybody is noticing the slightest awkwardness and shaking the heads with the disapproval.
Fortunately, this is being the very little matter to overcome. First, it is mostly not mattering what kind of the kiss you are selecting. The chaste peck, it is tasteful and elegant, and it is not offending even the most prudish of the old grannies. This was being very popular when everybody was liking to pretend that everybody was very romantic and virginal and that the babies were mostly being left by the fairies under the cabbage leaves like the snails.
The slow, soft romantic kiss is being very popular now that generally everybody is supposing that even if you were not having the sex before, you are almost certainly doing it now that you are married to each other.
Whatever kiss you are selecting, the important thing is that you and M. Elwood are selecting the same one. You are not wanting to be going for the discreet peck while M. Elwood, he is coming for you with the tongue dangling.
Also, the practice, she is very important. You are not wanting to risk M. Elwood becoming nervous and forgetting which kiss he is supposed to be performing. If you are practicing before the ceremony, you can be smacking him very firmly on the head every time he is doing it wrong until he is thoroughly conditioned.
Bon Chance, Mlle. Bride, and remember: the only kiss which is entirely inappropriate is involving the lustful groping and slobbering. What are you thinking? There are the children watching you.
Under Pressure
Dear madame tourjrs
I think my wife may be over-sexed. I guess that isn't fashionable, or politically-correct or something, and some people will say I'm just a tool of the oppressive patriarchy that hates women and tries to dominate them through their sexuality, but I'm getting really desperate. She wants it twice a week, and I'm just not up to the job. Once a month would be fine with me, and the rest of the time we could just cuddle. It's not that she isn't gorgeous and sexy, and I like, you know, being with her, but gee, I'm busy, and the NBA playoffs were on, and I'm tired in the evenings. I don't dare stay in the house if she's watching a romantic movie, and I get chills when I see her reading one of those novels with the slab-chested guys on the covers.
She hasn't suggested Viagra yet, but those darn commercials on the television make me cringe. It's not like I can't perform. I just don't feel like it. Isn't there some way to cool her jets? I don't think I should be pressured for sex if I'm not in the mood.
Sincerely,
Put Upon
Cher M. Upon,
What for are you not being in the mood? Bien sur, you are having the fatigue and the amusing hobbies, but possibly you should be considering the inconvenience if you are being obliged to find the new wife. The divorce, it is being quite tiresome, and afterward is never being financially the same. Also, there is the time and trouble of finding the new wife and having the frequent sex with her so that she will be wishing to marry you. This is the exhausting work, n'est pas?
Oui, many of the husbands who are in your position, they are considering the subcontractors. This is not usually being the good idea. Generally, Madame is becoming so distracted by the new lover that she is no longer appreciating the old husband, and you are feeling neglected and having the risk that she is deciding to divorce you and marry the new lover. Now you are once again having the inconvenient divorcings.
Since you are wishing to be conserving the energies, I am giving you the handy tips for the efficient performance.
1. Plan ahead. Select the time when the marital duties are not interfering with the interests and amusements.
2. Assemble any props or accouterments you will require such as the astronaut costume or the champagne and flowers.
3. Explore the grand old tradition of the "faking it." Ask yourself, "What would M. James Bond be doing?" or "How am I doing this if I am the ruthless pirate prince?" Then do that even if it is not what you are actually feeling like doing. Naturally, this is making you feel silly. However, nobody is asking you to tell anybody you are a ruthless pirate prince only to give Madame the thrill as if you are him. This is the very simple gesture requiring very little effort and giving the enormous returns. Madame will be excited. She will be quickly satisfied, and will possibly feel so grateful, she will make you the sandwich while you are returning to the sporting events and the personal scratching which are your real interests.
Bon Chance, M. Upon, Soon you will be satisfying Madame on your own terms and with much less inconvenience to yourself than you suppose.
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