New Year’s Eve.
New Year’s Eve.
I can’t even believe that I just sat down for the first time today. I mean really? I’m exhausted. And I’m drinking wine. Ma nishtana. Or for all you non-Jews that’s a little Hebrew for “what else is new?” Just in time for Passover. Gettin’ my Jew on. I mean, since I moved to Charlotte five years ago.. I pretty much have a glass of wine every night. Glass. House. Stones. Go. Whatever. I don’t get drunk, or slam a bottle, for fucksake. I have a glass of wine. It’s a little weird to some of you, I’m sure. And to others, it’s strange that I only have one glass. Ha. Anyways, I’m now in my sweats..curled up with my doggies, and drinking my glass of wine. Ahhhh. Life is good.
“I don’t care where my SCAR is, Dr. Sherbert. Like I’m ever getting naked for another man again? Unless I’m going to be a stripper in my next life, or Mark’s going to kick-it.. NO guy is ever seeing this body naked. Never. Ever. NEVER. Let’s do this thing. Just make sure I’m hot. And thin. And you wake my ass up. And put my tits where they used to be, UP. I don’t want them huge.. I just want them UP. I look like a cover of a National Geographic, and I have 50 more years to live. I deserve this. Right? Right”.
What do women want?
Ya, ya. What do women want? This is where I lose all my girlfriends. All my female readers. And my poor father crawls under his desk, and hides for all eternity. Who gives a rat’s ass what women want? Is it always about us? Is it always about the women? Sure, women want to be listened to, and loved..and wanted. Blah, blah. blah. But after much thought, I am super convinced that I just might have been the reason my marriage failed. Yup. Me. Not all me, but I played a big part. And here is why…
This is The Truth Hurvitz, right? So.. let me give you the truth.
Women, read this, listen to it.. and maybe I can save you a lot of heartache, and lawyers fees. It takes two to tango, so stop your whining.. and drop to your knees. Stop bitching. And crabbing. Pretend you like having sex, and start putting out. Or as one of my close friends says it, “play dead starfish”. Ya know, lay on your back, and stare at the ceiling..naked. Who cares. Just do something. Anything to let your man know you want him. I recall one of my dear friends making “sex appointments” with her hubby every Sunday night. Still married! Shit. Sounds dumb, but sex is the way to a man’s heart. Forget the cooking. Just fuck him. It’s the only way to stay married. Or in a relationship. Or happy. There. I said it. And it’s only going to get worse, (my poor father) so buckle up.
I got married. I wanted a house. I wanted kids. I wanted it all. I want. I want.. I want. I wanted everything, but sex. Well, I had sex to get pregnant. FUN! No, it was work. And I would call my mom for advice. Like NASA, for fucksake. Charts, and planning. Legs up, legs down. Wait 20 minutes after we do it, ha. Mark was such a trooper. We got preggers in a minute. And I swear, I cut him off. I wanted Mark to give and give and give. And I wanted to put out, like.. um.. never. I was too tired. I was too fat. I was too fucking bitchy. I had diarrhea. Whatever. I was a tired, angry, nasty-ass biatch. So, he worked his ass off to provide a great life for me. And our kids. And I had it all. And sure, he was crabby. And maybe wasn’t home all the time, cause he traveled for work. But shit, wouldn’t you? I was so fun to be around! not. I complained about everything. And the minute he walked in the door, I would throw the kids at him. Instead of being nice, or kind.. or the girl he married. I saved “fun Jen” for everyone else.
And then, when I did want to have sex.. he didn’t want me! Well, WHOOOOAAAAAAA!!!
He didn’t want me? But why? Why didn’t he want ME? I was like, ME! And I was so hot! In my sweat pants, and ponytail…with barf and shit all over me. I was like.. a pornstar! Ya. Well. He wasn’t “emotionally attached” to me. That’s what he said. What he told the therapist. Ouch. Sound familiar, ladies. Are you pickin’ up the shiz I’m laying down? Sad, right? But hey, it’s the truth. And the strong survive. And the insecure, weak, lonely ones.. head to Facebook to flirt with old high school boyfriends. Or sext with college ex’s late at night. Or maybe start losing weight. Or even get new tits. And realize, they better get some fucking attention from somewhere, or they might shrivel up and die. And they have mid-life crises, and get their balls back. And want “more”. And they decide they deserve “better”.
So, the truth hurts. And egos get hurt. And feelings get hurt. But it happens. And you start to fight. And resent each other. And grow apart. And the kids pick up on it. And then.. you don’t have sex for a month. Or six. Or a year….
But hey! Who’s counting? All your friends are having AMAZING sex! You go out to dinner with other couples, and they are all telling stories about how fucking great their sex is.. and how they fuck every single night! And how they are just SO close. And you are holding back the puke in your mouth, while you know how full of shit they are, and they are divorced a year later. Life gets in the way of life. It just happens. I actually sat with a group of my girlfriends once, and listened to one tell me she gets paid to give her husband blow jobs. Yup. Pick your mouth off the floor, y’all. A fifty dollar bill is left on the nightstand the next morning.. and she loves it! I mean, if it works, it works! I’m not judging. They are still happily married, and she has a wicked shoe collection! ha.
So, you stay. I mean, right? You stay in your marriage. No one would ever get divorced because of sex? Or lack thereof. You stay for the kids. They are all that’s important. Even though you aren’t so happy. And you are having sex like, never. And you basically hate each other.. because neither of you are getting the attention you need, or deserve. Or getting LAID. For the love of all things holy.. everyone is happier when you’re getting LAID! COME ON, PEOPLE! It’s just a scientific fact. Your endorphins are up. You release amazing sex hormones. You live longer, and healthier lives. Everyone is loving it up! And wow, you just feel better. It’s a fact. No BS from me. No Jen-isms. Just the truth. So you are miserable, not having sex. But you stay, and you become best friends. Best friends that really hate each other, because you resent each other for not wanting one another. When really, you do. I did. I really did. Want him. Sigh. I just didn’t know how to get back there. He was so far away.
How do you stop this from happening? The distance, the space…the resentment? The truth is, girls.. and boys, to never let it start in the first place. Keep it real. Make it happen. And have SEX!
This Part One was just for Mark…to say, I’m sorry, for being so nasty and angry. And to thank him, for giving me our boys. Oh, and for putting up with this blogging stuff. I would probably kill me. And for all the women out there, still in their marriages…think about what your man wants for a change. Maybe 13 years ago, I should have. Not to say, it was all me. We both made mistakes. Sometimes I wish I had a blog like this to read, some crazy lady slapping me with a dose of reality. Ha. Well, at least now, my new relationships will only be better. And filled with lots and lots of SEX…sans the bitchy, crabby and hopefully the diarrhea. ;)