Now please calm down and let me explain, honey! Look, we’ve been going through a rough patch for quite some time now. You were never in the mood to talk about it but now I guess we have no choice.
We haven’t had sex in over 18 weeks. Yes, I’ve been counting. I’m a man and I have urges, Lydia, so when I look up every day and see Amelia wearing those large hats adorned with bright plumage… well, I’m only a man.
But I swear, it was just sex! And not even good sex. In fact, it was awful sex. You know how she always misinterprets our checklists? Like when you asked her to straighten up the den and she proceeded to line up all of our downstairs’ possessions into one big line? Well, I thought she was just playing dumb and, sadly, I have to admit that turned me on, but it’s no act. She responds the same way in the bedroom.
Do you really want to know the details? Does it matter at this point? Fine, Lydia, as you wish.
It happened while you were on that business trip to Chicago. She was in the living room doing god knows what to our grandfather clock. I approached her from behind, grabbed her oversized apron and whispered in her ear to spread her legs. She responded by darting out of the room. I thought I had crossed the line and she was upset, but before I could chase after her and apologize, she returned carrying a tub of margarine and started rubbing it all over her calves.
As peculiar as this was, it was starting to work for me. I told her to talk dirty to me and she started jabbering in detail about some cesspool she once swam in because an employer told her to “dive into her next project.” Normally, imagery that grotesque would get me out of the mood, but oddly enough, it was still doing something for me.
In a moment of passion I laid down on the chaise lounge and ordered her to ride me. So what does she do? She gets on my back and rides me as if I were a horsey! At this point I’m still under the impression that she’s merely acting obtuse, so I yelled at her to not ride me like that, to which she replied, “But you didn’t say how to ride you!” That’s when it finally dawned on me.
She really is an idiot.
I gently bucked her off and explicitly asked her if she wanted to have sex. She said yes, but requested that I only speak in literal terms. Regretfully, I complied. It was like reading an instructional pamphlet for sex out loud. There was nothing romantic about it.
Honestly, the only satisfying thing about the whole experience is that she baked a delicious cake afterwards.
I know what I just told you is tough to hear, but I hope you understand that she means absolutely nothing to me. I’m still in love with you, Lydia.
Now what do you say we eat this leftover cake and get this marriage train moving again?
Spencer Ham is a writer for You Don’t Know Jack. His Twitter handle is @spencerham.