6 Things I’ve Refused My Husband
I’m so unreasonable, but we’re so satisfied
I’m GGG. Toss out a sexual act or situation, and I’m pretty damn game. I’ll have sex in an air-bound glass orb (ok, it’ll actually be my idea), or on film. I’ll wear a dumb velvet bunny bonnet even though I dislike velvet and animals (eek, I know). My husband, Joe, and I have a policy of mutual selfishness. As he says, I give a lot, and expect a lot, too. Which includes, on occasion, saying no.
I’ve never refused sex, period. If I’m exhausted, we have what I’ve dubbed Side-Lying Face-Sitting. When I’m ill, we make lazy hand jobs enjoyable with a timer and accoutrements. I like the idea of “free use” — being effectively on call for his fulfillment — but he doesn’t quite take me up on it. Joe is, if anything, reasonable.
Which leads me to the first thing I’ve refused him…
BEING REASONABLE
I’ll be the first to admit to my intermittent neuroticism. I tried to be ‘cool’ and keep my emotional fragility tucked away where it’s convenient, but after the hormonal rollercoaster of my first pregnancy, that guise feels less natural. I don’t feel the need to be someone I’m not. I’m not Joe. And I refuse to be perpetually reasonable. I do try my best to not take myself seriously, either. For balance.
Speaking of unnatural guises, the next thing I’ve refused him is…
THE CREEPY MASK
In our extensive erotic expenditures of late, my husband occasionally procures items he’s not necessarily attached to, but thinks will be fun to try. When I first saw the creepy latex mask — a full hood with a zipper up the back and a few holes in the front — I felt so turned off that it was hard to recover. I love a moment feigning inanimate, but I don’t want to play dead. This mask crossed my line, and that conversation taught us both a thing or two about ourselves and each other.
Speaking of knowing things about each other, the next thing I refused was something we’ve always known makes us incompatible…
THE PERPETUAL SIMPLE LIFE
When I met my husband, he hadn’t taken a single vacation day in a decade. He didn’t travel. It isn’t how he liked to live. In the heat of New Relationship Energy, he accepted my offer to accompany me on a trip to Mexico City. His friends were shocked. I knew then I shouldn’t expect to travel as often for the rest of my life if I wanted to spend it with him. It’s only reasonable (which I have the capacity for! (people are multi-dimensional!)) to know Joe will continue to be Joe, and that I shouldn’t expect him to change himself completely for me. And he knew, too, that choosing to marry a woman from another country who had been living out of a suitcase for the last decade would mean adjustments to his baseline normal as well. Our union of opposites has benefited us both. I’ve found more grounding, and he’s extended himself beyond his comfort zone, and my goodness, has he grown.
Speaking of growths, the next thing I refused him…
THE HAZMAT LIPSTICK
Out of curiosity, I sent Joe a screenshot of a dozen lip color shades. It was from one of the few organic cosmetics companies I consider, but rarely buy, because I don’t like putting things on my skin that can seep into my pores and disrupt my delicate hormonal systems. I overthink things like this. (I’m not always reasonable.) But since I find a colored lip sexy, I wanted to know which aroused Joe. The prompt inspired him, and next thing I knew, a package arrived, and he was explaining his research into “the best lipsticks for blowjobs.” The box label read “HAZMAT,” which, as Joe explained, meant it was flammable and not air-travel-safe. I explained I didn’t want flammable things near my mouth. But now, as I write this, and reflect upon the martini’s I had the other night, I might loosen this refusal — everything in moderation.
Speaking of things I gave one shot before refusing…
THE SHITTY MASK
We’ve been on the lookout for blindfolds and masks. The kinds that add mystique to erotic encounters and confuse artificial intelligence image searches if we were ever to upload our private collection of sex videos online (Joe doesn’t care if people who already know us see our sex videos, in theory, but he wouldn’t want someone who finds our sex videos to then find us). In our search, we’ve found some duds. One black hood mask I wore during a blow job and shag left my face stained. As explained in the previous point, I’m picky about what touches my body. I no longer have much patience for shitty fabrics and colorfast dyes. Fortunately, my husband listens and develops solutions far better than the originals. With blindfolds, it took time, but he found someone who cleans and repairs vintage silk lace. We used an antique French strip the other day. It was hot.
Speaking of how Joe’s solutions usually get better over time, the last thing I’ve refused him is…
SLEEP TRAINING
Like all parents, Joe wanted our kids to have good sleep hygiene. He and I disagreed on how to teach this life skill. Joe gravitated toward structured sleep training, while I wanted the child-led path of co-sleeping. Since Joe is reasonable, he concluded that since I was exclusively breastfeeding, and the evenings were my ‘job,’ I ought to decide how sleep was run1. And now, five years later, with two boys with exceptional sleep hygiene, I think he might have come around to my side. Or, perhaps not, because he’d say we couldn’t exactly know, can we?
Fair enough, I say! But either way, here we are. In a safe, healthy relationship. With mutual respect and mutual selfishness, which gives us both the capacity to be satisfied, heard, and continue to know each other better with every disagreement and discussion, and know ourselves better to be honest with ourselves and each other. Not being honest about how you feel hurts everyone by depriving you of the opportunity for connection and mutual understanding.
To anyone claiming they don’t want to co-sleep because it interferes with parental intimacy, use this blog as decisive contra-evidence. I believe that excuse is a ‘self-own’ as people say — you’re admitting you can’t imagine sex outside of the evening, and the bedroom.
Isn't it cool that most paths to connection are a little uncomfortable? You guys are my role models, truly.
As ever, brilliant, funny, raw and oh so relatable — thanks Abby ❤️