Men and women will never come to agreement on the amount of sex that is acceptable in a relationship. The
best we can ever hope for is a compromise. Adam and Eve must have reached this compromise. Or Adam, upon hearing all the commotion
and screaming as those two nice boys, Cain and Abel, were born, must have simply slunk off into the forest saying, "My work
is done, here." And, indeed, fathering two children must have been a big accomplishment for a guy whose only job was to avoid
Shortly after apples came onto the consumer market, however, times became a bit more difficult. The sexual
encounter was necessary for procreation and the survival of the species. Forget about romance or "dinner and a movie". Forget
about spending your teenage years sneaking out in back of the cave to drink some fermented grog. During the dawn of time,
you were considered a "geezer" at twenty so you had better have produced a litter of enterprising toddlers and pre- teens
ready to step in and run down that saber tooth tiger.
After a few famines, plagues, crusades, explorations and conquests, our lifespan increased. Now man could
expect to live long enough to enjoy a cold beer, so he invented refrigeration. Television caught on. Now man could stay home,
order a pizza, watch a ball game on TV and fall asleep on the couch in his underwear. Life was good.
Women, of course, long ago recognized these evolutionary changes. We figured out that once we had captured
the alpha male of our dreams (the one with the least genetic predisposition for flatulence, beer and sports) and spawned a
couple of kids, we were pretty much done. Which is why we invented shopping malls and romance.
My husband has failed to grasp the importance of this concept. Like all men, he is still under the ancient,
primal, testosterone-laden dictum that men must continue to procreate like rabbits. Or, at least, tell his friends he is.
He is the ninth child of ten and claims some privileged super gene in the procreation department. I claim his mother was simply
too tired to outrun his father.
Now it's not that I don't have sympathy for this male genetic faltering. But I have given agonizing birth,
"late in life" shall we say, to my required two heirs to the Franklin throne, thereby cementing my place in genealogical history.
Barring any unforeseen complications, I should be able to retire and "guilt" my children into taking care of me until I'm
So, out of consideration for his needs, we have created "Franklin's Tips For A Happy Sexual Relationship"
which have managed to sustain us through seven years of marriage:
- Sex may only be had between the hours of 10am-11 pm (Special consideration will be given to holidays, vacations
where kids are not present or when we've hired a sitter and run away to a motel).
- Kids must be safely padlocked in their rooms with no chance to escape and observe the festivities.
- Male participant must have showered and shaved at least once on the day in question.
- Foot rubs and back massages accumulate bonus points.
- Male must perform at least one household chore that has the potential to embarrass him amongst his friends;
laundry, tampon shopping and oven cleaning come to mind.
- Male can skip #4 & #5 if dinner, dancing, soft music and an alcoholic beverage is involved. Sports bars
do not count.
- Male must, however, talk...to mate... during dinner.
- Male must at least make an effort to tell mate that she is still stunning...even if she looks like she's
been attacked by feral cats.
- Male must actually act out foreplay, rather than use Cliff Notes to describe it.
- Say it with flowers...or diamonds, or gift certificates, just say it!
If my husband does all these I can guarantee that he'll see action at least once a week. On the other six
days I promise I will give him that extra important 10 minutes in the shower. And he can count himself lucky that he's married
to me and not a Black Widow Spider or Praying Mantis; after all, they bite the heads off the male partners after mating with
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