Sinful Sunday 493 – Two face

Lockdown has seen many of us get hairy. Deprived of access to waxing salons, bushes have turned to forests. From porcelain smooth to rough thatch.

Sinful Sunday 492 – Untitled

“Sinful Sunday is ALL about the image. It’s a time and a place …”

Openess

The last few weeks have been tough at Chez AM. I’m not going into details, but both my Wife and I seem to have felt increasingly that We’re on the brink of divorce. Even our weekly counselling sessions have been turbulent.

Amidst that, somehow We agreed We would sit down this last weekend and talk. One thing that has become increasingly apparent recently is our ability to have the same conversation and yet walk away from it as if We had had two entirely different conversations. So even that conversation nearly didn’t happen. Nearly.

Kirsty, our counsellor, has recently asked Us to think about what would be Enough to save the marriage. What would We respectively need as a minimum for it to be worth saving?
There was some discussion of Enough, and other things – fractious discussion – and then, at my insistence, We talked a bit about sex.
Yes. Dear Reader, We actually talked about sex.
Again, I’m not going into detail for the most part, but …

Sinful Sunday 484 – Drained

Having restricted use of an arm, albeit only temporarily through injury, has been a salutary experience. Especially as it has been that of my dominant hand. The number of things that have been harder to do has been innumerable. Chopping vegetables and making toast have been difficult at best, and not being allowed to carry anything of weight or drive has meant I can’t do the supermarket run. On a more personal note, (assuming your’e right handed) brushing one’s teeth left handed is surprisingly difficult and, as you will appreciate, Dear Penis-ed Reader, if like me you wear briefs, trunks or thongs rather than boxers, even getting your cock out for a piss with just your left hand is a real challenge. As a result, I haven’t worn underwear for a month.

But worst of all,

Barometric

I stopped wearing my wedding ring years ago. Well, I stopped wearing it on my hand. Instead it has hung on a chord around my neck, like some cadaverous albatross. Maybe that sounds a little morbid, but the chronic dysfunction of our relationship has long led me to feel We have not been married for most of Our marriage.

In the meantime,

Crossroads

It took more than 20 counselling sessions to get to the big stuff.
With two such sessions under our belt, there was perhaps some sense of progress, but my belief that what We respectively want from a marriage may yet prove incompatible, insufficient to sustain Our’s, and divorce may yet be the most logical way forward … this seemed to come as a surprise to my Wife.
We stumbled through the first half of the session, throughout which I knew there was an all too familiar elephant in the room.

Although I know it needs

Equally conflicted

In Our last two relationship counselling sessions with Kirsty, We have finally got round to talking about the the big stuff. The things that you don’t talk about in polite conversation: Politics, Sex, Money and Religion – the Four Topics of The Apocalypse. Despite my having had 3 individual sessions with Kirsty just talking about Sex and, to the best of my knowledge, my Wife having one of Her own [Ed: It is difficult to know whether that 3:1 ratio has more to do with AM being proportionately more willing to talk about the sex, or that his Wife just has disproportionately little to discuss.] it is perhaps less surprising than disappointing that

Bed

half empty half warm
cotton wrapped from night till day
the most lonely place

Sinful Sunday 482 – Hair

Every few weeks since the UK went into COVID lockdown, I have received a text message from the beautician that I get waxed by, relating how professional advice still prevents her from running her business face to face. [Ed: Or more accurately, for many of her clients, both male and female, face to crotch.]

Whilst some will have doubtless resorted to

(adendum) Really inconvenient!

[Ed: Unless you want to read the self pityings of a middle aged, over-libidinous man who really ought to be a bit more grateful for just being alive with the prospect of a fully functioning, injury free body just a few patient weeks away, please just pass on by. There are far less self indulgent posts to read out there in the blogosphere today.]

Further to Inconvenient, much to my disappointment and growing frustration, it turns out that fucking a Fleshlight when