Relegation of icons

There are points when one senses nails in the lids of coffins.

For far longer than my Wife and I have slept separately, I have, from time to time, tormented myself by looking in Her underwear drawer. For no reason less noble than to fuel my own self destructive optimism, in the hope that maybe today She’s wearing the Infamous Red. That maybe something has changed. That a positive decision has been made.

Today was such a day.
Today was different.
Today was not the same.
Today there was a

Confirmation and bias

The night We got back from holiday I thought I’d make an effort and sit next to my Wife on the sofa. On the same sofa. We’d not been getting on great, but with just the right amount of gin in me I can feel motivated. I encouraged Her to rest Her legs on my lap as we binged a TV boxset. It was OK.

Then something was said and

Optimist or deluded fantacist?

[This is the 2nd in a short series of posts written whiqlst on holiday, but having got to rhe point of publishing, hy heart isn’t in it. But seeing as the reasons behind that, including my own self destructive nature, perhaps this us the most pertinent. so publish and be damned.]

Two weeks holiday. We were to spend a fortnight in the same bed and my Wife would have around 30 opportunities to see me naked for the first time in months.
So …
I shaved off what little pubic hair I had so the sight of my morning wood would be even more eye catching.
I looked forward to my Wife getting Her tits out for the sun. Perhaps the orange bra was indeed a bikini?
I silently rehearsed accidentally dropping a tantalisingly small reference to historic beach nudism with exes.
And I packed a lightweight novel I hoped would be surprisingly salacious and that might provoke even a modicum of conversation.
[Ed: You don’t need to say it, Dear Reader – it’s plain to all AM has some serious issues.]

Roughly half of these things happened.
And not the desired half.

Ce qui sera, sera

Apartment booked : check.
Passports checked : check.
Flights booked : check.
Sunscreen bought: check.
Bags packed : check.
Pubes completely shaved : check.

Pubes completely shaved? You may well be thinking that seems quite out of character, Loyal Reader, and you’d be right for a couple of reasons.

I’m not usually a fan of completely shaved pubes: the aesthetic doesn’t quite work for me, and I far prefer waxing to shaving (unless I’m getting to shave a pussy, in which case I’m an A-Grade Ultra Fanboy!) So why have I completely shaved my pubes?

For the

SEP (Somebody Else’s Problem)

Whilst I was looking for the official definition of sex addiction, I stumbled across another classification. And having had a limited knowledge of Greek and etymology, I knew the difference between hyper~ and hypo~

HA00 Hypoactive sexual desire dysfunction
Hypoactive Sexual Desire Dysfunction is characterized by

Sinful Sunday 375 – Underdressed

It’s not that it promised to be a bad party, what ever that might constitute. And it’s not that I dislike the hosts (friends of my Wife), far from it. It was just going to be dull. I wasn’t going to know any of the other guests, and have little with common any of them.

Whilst the invitation didn’t specify a dress code, as the party was at an up market hotel, We assumed smart was the order of the day.
For smart, I opted for a suit. A few other guests had dressed up, but as it turned out, there were more than a few pairs of jeans (at least one ripped), various randomly logoed t-shirts, one baseball cap and I was the only person wearing a tie.

However, in an effort to rise above the anticipated tedium of the party, I’ll wager I was also the only person to

Binge-worthy

We’ve been box-set binge-ing. We’re about 6 series behind. (I’m sorry, Dear American Reader, I can’t bring myself to call them seasons, even though it’s an American show.)
There’s sexual tension all over the plot lines. Office politics and who’s fucking who … or in most cases who’s not fucking who, but would really like to fuck them. [Ed: Thankfully there’s not as much actual fucking as in House of Cards, which AM removed from Netflix’s shows-to-watch-list about a year ago because, despite his love of porn, watching people fuck with his Wife in the same room was just far too uncomfortable. Jeez, AM’s fucked up!]

After a mildly