Sex In The Suburbs #2

Those of us with children know the dangers of sex (and I don’t just mean conception).

Imagine the scene: you and your partner actually find the time, and the energy to have a romantic dalliance in the privacy of your bedroom. Candles and incense burning, a nice bottle of wine on the bedside table, music playing gently in the background. Sounds lovely doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for your putative sex life – you are parents!

You hear a pitiful sobbing (and it’s not your husband). One of your children has woken with a nightmare. You stop what you are doing,  reluctantly drag yourself out of bed, throw on a dressing gown and go down the hall to sort out the problem. You comfort your child, give her a glass of water and take her to the toilet.

By the time you crawl back into bed, your “romantic ideal” is snoring away merrily.

Oh well, maybe we can try this again next week!


Men Talking About Sex

One of the funniest things I discovered about men was how they talk about sex, and how it changes over time.

When my husband was single: he and his mates sat around bragging about how much sex they got, with each man trying desperately to outdo the others.

Now that he’s been married for a long, long time: he and his mates sit around whinging about how little sex they get, with each man trying desperately to outdo the others.

Can someone explain that to me, please?

TV Sports Widows Unite

All right, I’ll admit my shame to the world: I am a TV Sports Widow.

I married a man who will watch any sport on TV at anytime! He’s a TV Sports Addict or TSA for short.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t actually know anything about a particular sport, if it has a ball, or wheels, or water – he will watch it. If you try to change the channel because he’s snoring (obviously he is not paying attention) – a dark voice utters the grim words: “I’m watching that”.

There should be a Support Group formed for TV Sports Widows. Somewhere we can go to exchange strategies, and share comfort in the fact that we’re not alone.

TV Sports Widows live in a world of grunts. Talk to my husband while he’s watching sport and all you ever get is an unintelligible noise in response. And please don’t tell me talk to him in the ads – that’s when he channel surfs,  desperately looking for another sport to get his fix.

I once tried to seduce him during the cricket – desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

He looked over my shoulder to check the time and informed me there would be a lunch break in the cricket in 20 minutes, and then he’d be all mine. Really? Let’s just say this was one man who was definitely not going to score that day.

His favourite TV (we have 3) is in the lounge room separated from the bedrooms by a hallway and several doors. If I hide in the bedroom I can STILL hear him yelling at the referees.
Does he truly think that he’s going to make a difference? Does he really think the referees or the players can hear him?
And to make it even more absurd: it’s a replay of an earlier played game – it’s already happened – nothing is going to change the result now. This is a reasonably intelligent man who just hasn’t seemed to grasp the fundamentals of television viewing. Even our children learnt that TV was not really real at a very young age.

When we were first married I used to sit with him while he watched TV. I’d embroider something, anything, so we could spend the time together. Now I just try to hide.

My social life has improved incredibly since I came out of the closet. I discovered that my neighbourhood simply abounded with fellow sufferers. Now we go out for lunch and leave the TV Sports Addicts at home to watch to their hearts’ content.

However, revenge is sweet, and incredibly satisfying – so when we TV Sports Widows go off to lunch – we leave the kids at home!

Sex In The Suburbs #1

OK, this article is titled: “Sex in the Suburbs” but it should really be called: “I’m too old, and too tired, to have an affair”.

Now seriously, if you have small children – where would you find the time?

You’re too busy trying to snatch the odd few seconds power napping whilst standing upright (well, leaning against something handy like a wall or a sink for instance).

Imagine trying to actually sit down or even, god forbid, lie down?

Would you waste those few precious moments on someone else? Of course not! You’re too busy trying to hide from the children.

And who can blame you? You are on call from the moment you wake to the time you finally crawl into bed at night.

Even the lowest paid menial job lets you have a break occasionally. But not you, because you’re a “mum”. And mums are superwomen who need no sleep, have no personal needs and never, ever, have sex!

Why, even your children were born of an immaculate conception – don’t believe me? Just ask your kids.


The title “Have A Woman’s Look” is taken from a family saying used when a member of the male persuasion can not find something. It’s become so prevalent that even my 16 year old son was using it on his friends.

I love my husband (as one is supposed to or so I’m told) but if I hear one more time: “Honey, where did I put …?” How the hell should I know where he put something?

He had the audacity to tell friends that I sticky-taped things to the underside of drawers so that when he went to find them – he couldn’t. But when I looked – there they were.

This is his permanent excuse for never being able to find anything, ever. And so, instead of getting up and actually looking for something, I hear: “Honey, where did I put … ?”