In loathsome clickbait news, many chumps sent me the Daily Mail’s “I didn’t want to cheat on my wife. But having children wrecked our sex life.”
Let’s take a moment of silence and reflect on this man’s suffering.
His episiotomy scars. His leaky boobs. His incontinence. That wailing barnacle barfing in his hair. .
Oh! I’m sorry. That would be Mr. Anonymous’s wife. Her suffering is immaterial. The important thing to know is she’s not putting out. Set that squalling newborn down for a moment and blow your husband, lady! He Has Needs.
The Universal Bullshit Translator is balking.
I can’t do this much misogyny before noon, Tracy.
(Furious procurement of Lebkuchen ensues.)
After some intense negotiations, the UBT has agreed to choke down portions of this, but demands songs of praise and a strong shot of motor oil to recover. It’s a cranky old machine.
The birth of your children is supposed to be the pinnacle of married life. So, after almost 20 years of marriage and with two fantastic daughters, am I thanking my lucky stars that my wife and I made the leap from partners to parents?
In short, no. A shocking thing to say? Yes, absolutely. But there’s more: the truth is, deep down, I don’t think any man ever wants to swap those heady days of coupledom for becoming a family unit.
Fantastic daughters, I regret your existence. I think I speak for all men when I say, as compared to a life of unfettered orgasms, you’re rather worthless.
Who can deny that children introduce stress and strife into a relationship? And parenthood often turns a formerly loving couple into, at best, exhausted comrades in arms — at worst, adversaries.
Sleep deprivation makes me craft dating profiles at best. At worst, hookers.
I’ve been married for 20 years and over the past five, I’ve had several affairs and numerous flings. And — be as disapproving as you like — I don’t regret it.
Be as disapproving as you like! I’ve written this anonymously!
In my mid-40s with a decent career in human resources, how do I get away with it?
No one can report me to Human Resources, because I’m human resources! #cleverboy
At first, everything was great. We had lots in common, enjoyed spending time together and had a great sex life, making love every day. Sex with her was the best and always left me feeling satisfied, like I could take on the world.
Within a year of marriage, our eldest daughter arrived and, two years later, we were a family of four.
Raising two daughters changed me profoundly — in good ways, to begin with. I became much more patient and tolerant, knowing I had to put them — and my wife — first, which I did happily.
Raising two daughters changed me profoundly — now I had fresh new girl-creatures to practice my misogyny on.
I’m patient, tolerant, I put them first — after the numerous flings, affairs, and sexy blow-up dolls.
Suddenly, the woman I desired, and who used to desire me, would barely touch me. If I tried to initiate sex she would move away or say she was tired, leaving me upset and frustrated.
It turned out we differed on how to raise the children, too. I believed they should slot into our lives, not the other way round. But she was more interested in mother-and-toddler groups and swimming lessons than us or me.
Four years into our marriage, we had a two-year-old and a baby — and a non-existent sex life.
Our non-existent sex life has created two children! That never happens with Cindy my blow-up doll. I just.. slot in… and no swim meets! Why can’t my wife be more like Cindy?
Before, my wife used to make the effort to seduce me, doing her hair, make-up and striving to look her most attractive. But post-kids, all efforts dropped off a cliff. She would live day-in, day-out, in baggy T-shirts and jogging bottoms. If I’m honest, I felt cheated and deprived.
Before my wife used to make an effort to frost my cupcakes, do her huckleberry fandango, and squirrel surf to look her most gallywag. But then, she dropped me off a cliff. “TADPOLES AT THREE!” echoed the canyon.
I’m sorry the UBT has malfunctioned.
If I’m honest, I felt cheated and deprived.
If I’m honest, I cheat and deprive
I was expected to carry out the hard but necessary jobs around the house — washing the car, emptying the dishwasher and, of course, helping out with the childcare
But there are only so many times you can hear a woman say how tired and exhausted she is before recognising that the problem isn’t with you, it’s with her. Something in my brain shifted.
The problem is this wife appliance is worn out. Do you ask the vacuum cleaner’s permission to shop for a new vacuum cleaner? No.
I tried to keep it to this — at first. But within six months I was out at a club at least one night every weekend. I would chat to countless women each evening. Some I would see again, others I would flirt with over text messages because I was enjoying the attention.
I’ve got a wife who tells me she’s exhausted. What will really help her find me desirable is me going out clubbing every weekend, cruising for strange. HEY, you have swim class. Daddy’s got disco.
How I dressed on nights out was different, too; I kept my new wardrobe hidden in the office. I was already in good shape, and started buying more expensive clothes, tailored to enhance my physique.
The biggest difference was that my confidence — along with my sexual mojo — was back.
We saw each other for three heady months. Then I ended things when she began to fall for me — it needed to be carefree.
Hey, this is just a cheap fuck. Don’t make me pay for it.
Infidelity is my coping mechanism
The UBT would like to feed you through a combine harvester. It’s his coping mechanism.