So, remember the reader who wrote me a couple weeks back to say that her hubby sucked ass at oral, and had for 25 years?
Now, a bunch of guys wrote comments, saying, “Well, maybe it’s not all his fault”, but what I’d neglected to say was that we’d exchanged about a half-dozen emails or so about the topic before I posted. I don’t like commenting when I don’t know the shit, ‘cos it’s so easy to hear 12 facts and think you can offer a solution. I actually like dialogues, so when people email me a question, they can expect that I’ll clarify points, and to respect people’s privacy and my blog space, I truncate in posts.
Well, the dear reader wrote me back today! Good news! We LOVES good news!
Turns out, she decided everything else in the relationship was fine but she was fed up with the bullshit. She told him his rules were stupid and that he completely sucked at it and it wasn’t worth the hassle and emotional turmoil it put her through to ask for it. She said, “I told him I never, ever wanted it again.”
I guess that was the reality-check he needed — he shaved his facial hair to show her that he wanted to try harder, and went down on her, breaking his own rules about how long since intercourse — and it was apparently fantastic! He said it became a matter of pride, and now he’s proud of himself for reducing her to orgasmic puddle of bliss. She says he’s strutting around like a peacock, going, “I knew I could do it!”
As she says:
He told me that I smelled clean, and also KISSED me afterward. I think there’s an alien in my hubby’s body, but he can stay!
And, you know, I’m just over the moon that it worked out. I’m thrilled she got back to me and filled me in. I’ve asked her to let me know a few weeks down the line if he’s keeping up with it.
This is why I love getting emails back afterward, though. Because it goes to show you that, there’s only so far all this nice, polite, please-and-thank-you shit goes. Life’s too fucking short. Sometimes, you just have to say bluntly that they ain’t getting the job done. If you’ve tried and tried, but you’ve always been nice, it’s time to get rid of the tact and diplomacy, and throw down.
Like Jack commented last week on a posting about the guilt after disappointing sex, he was surprised I didn’t call out the fuckhead who failed to give me the knee-quaking sex I so richly deserve.
Yeah, I was totally surprised too. What a total lack of character for me. I figger it’s only because I’d gone so long without a good shagging that I had this surreal, “Did I imagine all that good sex?” But I also confused the issue — I thought, “Well, he’s a nice guy, just…” But then it clued in the next day. No, he’s a selfish lover.
And it was a good learning lesson. But if I’d said something, I might’ve stuck with that fellow, and I’m hoping this Quest For Good Sex can be much, much better than I think he’d have mustered anytime soon, even with all my willingness to help.
(I’m tired of edumacatin’ the boys. I want me a good sexual equal. So, I’m holding out and scoping still, dates loom. I am NOT settling.)
Be blunt. Embrace the power of speech. Say what you really, really want.
Hell, you might just get it.
Image found on Chagrin/Tumblr.