Divorce. Marriage. Does it even matter?

Yesterday, I heard that two more couples I know have split. In that past six months, there have been five separations in my wider social group; in the past year, nine.

Now, you'd think that as a divorced woman I'd be delighted to hear of more women and men joining my ranks. More people like me! We're everywhere!

But in fact it deeply saddens me. I still very much want to believe that relationships can last the distance, that some people are gloriously happy in their marriages - or, at least, happy enough.

It's strange that this is so important to me. I am someone who fiercely believes that the value of relationships is not related to their length. A relationship is not invalid because it doesn't last forever. Some of my greatest friendships, and indeed my greatest romantic love, did not last forever. The fact that they had a shelf life doesn't at all change the profound impact those people had on my life, the tears and the laughter we exchanged, the support we offered each other, the experiences we shared together.

And yet I still want to know that some loves can last forever. I adore the idea of friendships spanning an entire life. I feel happy when I see an elderly couple holding hands and learn they have been together for seventy years.

I know some very happily married people and their happiness really does elevate me. There is something almost magical about a couple happily in love after twenty, thirty years. They are like a touchstone, proof to me that love can endure over time.

And every time I learn of another separation I feel pained, particularly when they are a couple I had thought were well suited. I feel sad for the kids, I feel sad for another lost touchstone, and, most of all, I feel sad for the partners. I know what they're about to go through. I know how rough it is.

Sometimes I even feel frustrated. When a person tells me that their ex is still their 'best friend', I don't quite understand why they would split. Wouldn't it be brilliant to be married to your best friend? Isn't everything else fixable? But I know - or at least, I remind myself - that separation is never the easy alternative. It comes at a huge price - socially, emotionally, and financially. No-one chooses separation without very good reason.

So tell me. Are you in a long term happy marriage? Do you know someone who has been happily married forever? Is there hope for marriage? And - most significantly - does it even matter???

Give The Woman Some PRIVACY

Poor Nigella Lawson. For those who have been in a cave these past 24 hours, she was photographed by paparazzi being abused by her husband, Charles Saatchi. Actually, let me rephrase that. I am not happy with the passive tense. The paparazzi photographed Charles Saatchi abusing his wife. So Nigella was a victim in two senses. For a start, she was a victim of her husband's abuse. And for another, she was a victim of the cold, money-grubbing photographer, who stood there filming as a female person was being attacked by male.

What a world we live in.

Many women are abused by their partners and I feel for them all. And hopefully Nigella is in a better position than many, in that she will have the financial resources to support herself if she chooses to leave her spouse. So many women do not have that luxury. So many women are forced to stay in abusive relationships because they simply do not have anywhere else to go.

However, Nigella has a disadvantage that most of us can not fathom. She is a celebrity. And as someone who has recently gone through a personal crisis of my own, I cannot even imagine the nightmare of having to live out my most intimate moments in the public eye.

I used to want to be famous. Like, super famous. When I became a woefully unsuccessful child actor, my principle motivation was not the love of theatre, nor even the joy of being in front of the camera; it was the promise of having my picture in TV Week. Once that happened, I lost interest in the whole thing.

But had I kept at acting, and had I actually shown some promise, I could have been super famous by now. I could have had paparazzi following me down the street. I could have been photographed through my bedroom window, or when I was out walking on Bondi beach. And when I was young, that sounded like excellent fun.

Now, at 44, with all sorts of life experiences behind me, I am grateful that particular childhood dreams never came true. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to deal with my private dramas privately. And I feel deep sympathy for those who have to live out their traumas in the public eye.

I hope Nigella Lawson finds the space she needs away from the prying eyes of the world. And I hope the next time a photographer sees a person in need, they will rush to assist them instead of standing at the sidelines taking pictures. Compassion, people. COMPASSION.

Why My Husband Has To Go

I love my husband. I do. Okay, so The Architect and I have a tumultuous relationship, and I *may* have once thrown an orange in his general direction, but we have been together for a hundred years and I never expected that we would part.

But something has changed. Another woman has come between us. A girl, really. A pretty white girl, with blue eyes and ears that are - believe it or not - even bigger than mine. She is here with us, every single day. We can't go on forever like this. So a choice will have to be made.

Now, obviously, my husband wants the girl to go. He has been here longer, and feels like he shouldn't have to leave his own family. But I'm in two minds. For one thing, she is sooooo cute. For another thing, the kids are really attached to her, and while they totally love their dad too, it seems just cruel to break their hearts.

Artist's impression of The Architect leaving home (except The Architect wears black)

And it's not Bun Bun's fault that she makes The Architect sneeze. After all, Spunky (RIP) didn't do so. And Pretzel, Bun Bun's cage-mate, is not allergenic at all. How were we to know that the flat-eared bunnies are a different breed altogether, and have the capacity to make a grown man expel his very soul from his nostrils night after night after night?

My husband thinks it is best to send Bun Bun away now, before the kids learn to love her even more. But Bun Bun is part of the family now. She is another child. And you can't send your child away. What's more, Bun Bun doesn't have the capacity to reason, and won't understand why she is being rejected from her home. She could be permanently scarred. Or at least miss that bloody great hole she's dug under the cupboard.

The Architect, on the other hand, can reason and understand. He will know that it's nothing personal, that it is just a clash of allergans, and that someone has to go. He will regroup, and move on with his life. And we will visit him, of course, after we've all changed our clothes and had showers to remove any last bits of fluff from our bodies.

Still, he is fighting to stay, and it's going to get ugly. The only solution may be for the kids and rabbits and I to leave, and let The Architect stay in the house. He designed it, after all.

It will need a very good cleaning, though. That rabbit fur is EVERYWHERE.

M & E: A Love Story

Last night at about 9pm I realised I was out of milk. This is not uncommon for me, given that a) we get through litres of milk a day, and b) I have twenty billion things in my head at any one time and would forget my nose if it wasn't directly attached to my face.

I sighed heavily and trudged out of the house to the shops. I was extremely tired and a little cranky, as a) it had been a long day, b) two out of three kids were still awake, and c) I had tons to do before bed. All I wanted to do was get to the corner store, get my milk, and get home.

I pulled up outside the store and saw that the light was off. The owner's son, M, was closing up. My heart sank. In desperation, I called out "M! Stop! Can I please just have some milk?"

"Sure thing, mate," he said cheerily, and ducked into the store to fetch the milk. "Pay me next time."

M is a big, bald Greek boy who loves a beer and the footy. And, as he approached the car, I noticed that he was glowing like a pregnant angel.

"I got married yesterday!" he cried, pushing his face into my window, his face nearly split in half with the most magnificent smile I'd ever seen.

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed. "I didn't realise it was yesterday! Congratulations!"

"It was the best night ever," he told me, beaming. He was ecstatically happy, literally shining with joy. I couldn't help but smile with him.

"Is E around?" I asked. E is M's new wife. She is a big, beautiful Jewish girl, who I thought to be M's sister for years because they look so similar.

"She's over there!" M said, pointing down the road. He called her over and E bounded up to my car. She, too, radiated happiness. M wrapped his arms around her and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. Their love was so infectious I felt high. I wished I had been at their wedding.

"M sobbed the whole way through the ceremony," E told me, rolling her eyes. It made me laugh.

M and E have been together for ten years. TEN. They seem as madly in love as they did in those very first years. Now, as a writer, I spend a lot of time thinking and writing about the challenges of relationships, and M and E do not negate those. I am sure they have had their rough times, too. But they did remind me, just for a few moments, of the pure joy of true love. It is there and it is heart-soaringly magnificent, and it can be found in a suburban store in Sydney.

And I am grateful for having a glimpse into it last night. M and E, if you read this, congratulations again.

And THANK YOU.

Marriage Equality. It Really Should Be This Simple.

Yesterday I chatted to my ten year old daughter about gay marriage.

"What do you think about it?" I asked her. We'd listened to a news story about the PM's proposed conscience vote on the issue and I was genuinely interested to hear my daughter's opinion.

"I think gay people should be allowed to get married," she said, and I agreed. And then she continued.

"Eli's mums are gay, aren't they?" she asked, referring to a school friend of hers.

"Yes," I told her.

"Well, at first when I met them, I thought it was a bit weird, but now it's just normal to me." I nodded.

"You know, Australia still won't let gay people get married," I said. My daughter frowned.

"But Mum," she asked, "isn't not letting gay people get married just like not letting a black person marry a white person? In the old days black people and white people weren't even allowed to sit on the same bench. Now we'd think that was terrible!"

And I looked at my daughter and I thought, why? WHY can't adults think the way she does? Why can't adults be as clear and untainted and as lacking in prejudice as a child.

There are two sets of lesbian parents in my daughter's year at school, and to the best of my knowledge they have been as warmly embraced by the school community as any other set of parents. And whilst some of the kids may have initially thought it was 'weird', that sense of difference faded incredibly quickly.

I genuinely believe that kids are born without inherent prejudice. They will notice differences - different colour skin, scars, disabilities, family structure - but they don't attach meaning to those differences like we do. They may notice that their Asian friend has different shaped eyes, but they don't make assumptions about their friend's personality or attitude to money or ability to drive based on that eye shape. They may notice that their classmate has two mums, but they don't make judgements about the morality of that situation - they are far more concerned with what treats the mums keep in the pantry, and whether they let them stay up late during a sleepover.

We are the ones who pass on moral judgements to our children. We are the ones who teach them what is 'right' or 'acceptable' or 'normal' or 'appropriate' or 'God's will. Which means that if we stop - if just one generation stops indoctrinating our kids into believing gay marriage is 'wrong', or people wearing burqas are 'dangerous', or that refugees are 'criminals' - we can begin to eliminate prejudice.

Sure, this is simplistic, but you don't see a lot of kids from open, accepting homes wanting to ban the burqa, or stop the boats. We need to listen to our kids, and stop filling their heads with prejudice. And maybe one day, what was once as 'weird' or 'scary' to us as blacks and whites sitting on the same bench will be completely normal.

Life Without Husband

On Sunday, my husband left for a two week business trip to China. This bothered me tremendously, as he had to leave the house at 5am, and the alarm woke me on a lazy Sunday morning at 4.30*.

Since then, I have been living life as a single mother of three, and contemplating the pros and cons thereof. And though it has only been just over 24 hours, I believe I have a pretty good handle on things.

No Husband: The Pros

1. I do not have to cook dinner for my husband, and so I am (hypothetically) free to feed the kids sausages, and myself vast quantities of chocolate covered rasberry licorice followed by, ahem, cheese.
2. There will be a lot less laundry.
3. There will be a lot less arguments.
4. I can sleep soundly without being woken by my husband's regular 2am nose-blowing session.
5. There will be no piles of horrid tissues next to my husband's side of the bed in the morning as there will be no 2am nose-blowing sessions.
6. I can get into bed with a pore cleansing strip on my nose without my husband recoiling in horror and yelling 'My eyes! My eyes!'
7. I can lounge on my bed in my undies without any expectation of sex.
8. I can lounge on my bed in my undies and a pore cleansing strip without my husband saying 'Oh for gods sake, make up your mind.'
9. I do not have to wait for the shower so I won't be late getting the kids to school.
10. I can watch whatever I want on TV without my husband grabbing the remote and switching channels every single commercial break.
11. I can leave mess everywhere without my husband coming home and asking what I 'did all day'.

Tomorrow night's dinner

No Husband: The Cons

1. I do not have to cook dinner for my husband and so I can (er... 'hypothetically') feed myself vast quantities of chocolate covered rasberry licorice followed by cheese. This is probably not an ideal way to eat in the long run.
2. I have to take all three kids to school.
3. I have to take Boo to swimming lessons in the wee-wee infested waters.
4. I have to take the rubbish out. Or would have, if I'd remembered to do so last night. Woops.
5. I get nervous without a big, strong man in bed with me in case of emergency. Except that my husband isn't big or strong, and he'd probably sleep through it anyway, so that doesn't really count.
6. I don't have to wait for the shower so when I get the kids to school late I can't blame it on their father.
7. There is no-one on whom to warm my feet before sleep.
8. There will be a lot less laughing.
9. I kind of miss him.

*of course I did go back to sleep, but I really do prefer not to be disturbed

Let Me Go The F**k To Sleep: A Wife's Lament

By now most of you should have heard of the magnificent new children's book (that is definitely NOT for children) "Go The F**K To Sleep". Author Adam Mansbach and illustrator Ricardo Cortes have captured the frustrations of parents everywhere, longing desperately for their kids to go the f**k to sleep so that they can get some f**king rest.

Well, I have come up with a new version of "Go The F**k To Sleep". I don't yet have illustrations, but you'll get the general idea.

"Let Me Go The F**k To Sleep: A Wife's Lament"

The kids are finally in bed
With sweet relief I weep.
I go up to the bedroom.
Time to go the fuck to sleep.

In only seven hours my
clock radio will beep.
I need to catch each minute
of my precious fucking sleep.

It's been a long, hard day
of work and chores and problems deep.
I cannot wait to get to bed
and go to fucking sleep.

I tiptoe through the door and
to my bed I softly creep.
Don't want to wake the hubby
who - thank god - is fast asleep.

I slide beneath the sheets
and fall into a crumpled heap.
I close my eyes then hear a voice:
"Hey babe, are you asleep?"

I lie there very still and then I
start to count some sheep.
I'm hoping he will take the hint
and let me fucking sleep.

Just as I drift into my dreams
his hand begins to creep.
He thinks it's time for making love!
It's time for fucking sleep!

He snuggles in and nuzzles me
and out of bed I leap.
"Don't even fucking THINK of sex!
I want to go to sleep!"

He looks at me so hopefully,
his boxers torn and cheap.
"I bet I can convince you
that you're not ready to sleep!"

I shake my head and climb back in
and lie on pillows deep.
"There's not a chance in hell," I say,
"now let me fucking sleep!"

"We never do it anymore,"
says hubby. But he'll keep.
Quite frankly I don't give a fuck.
I'm already asleep.

Married. AGAIN????

Two friends of mine in the U.S. recently got married. She wore white, with flowers in her hair, and was radiantly beautiful as she walked down the aisle. He wore a tux, and looked darkly handsome as he waited for his bride.

I was happy for them but I didn’t bother sending a gift. I thought the whole thing was a bit silly, really. You see, my friends were already married to each other. They were simply renewing their vows.

I cannot imagine anything that would inspire me to take a trip back down the aisle again, especially with the person I'm already married to. I love my husband, but marrying him once was more than enough. I know there are plenty of reasons to renew one's vows, but none of them make much sense to me.

For example:

To show that you would still choose to marry your husband, even if you just met him today.

Well, yes, I suppose I would marry my husband if I met him today, but this is largely because we have three kids together, not to mention a bank account, a mortgage and a rabbit, and it would be very inconvenient to marry someone else. But would I marry my husband if we weren’t already married? I don't know!!! Chances are I’d be married to someone else by now and have three kids and a mortgage with them, so no matter how fabulous my husband was I wouldn’t even notice him. And if I did somehow notice him, hopefully I’d be loyal enough to my alternate husband that I would just look away. After all, it would be kind of messy to change partners at this point, particularly with all those kids...

To show that you’re still happily married.

Well, some days I’m happy and some days I’m not. It depends on what kind of mood I’m in and whether my husband has remembered to put his boxers in the laundry.

To show that you’re still committed to your marriage.

Well obviously I’m committed. I’m still here, aren’t I? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had other offers! (Okay, so I haven’t had other offers, but I’m sure I would if I just put some feelers out and maybe wore a padded bra once in a while.) The very fact of my presence is indication enough that I plan to stay married, at least for the rest of the day.

As an excuse to have a big party.

Well, there’s nothing at all wrong with throwing a party. But a wedding party? My god, we barely survived organising the first wedding, let alone a second. With all the decisions involved – choosing a cake, a venue, a menu, the flowers, the dress, not to mention settling on a guest list – we’d be lucky not to kill each other before the big day. Remember, neither of us is on our best behaviour any more. We’re married, after all.

For the romance.

Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that renewing one’s vows is no doubt very romantic, and no doubt my husband would look very nice in his suit. But realistically, it’s not like I haven’t seen him in his suit about twenty thousand times before. And as for the wedding night, well, it’s not like we haven’t had sex approximately twenty BILLION times before. I’m sure it would be nice, but hardly white-veil-and-garter-worthy material.

So in the end, Vow Renewal just doesn’t work for me. But a second honeymoon? Without the kids? Now that sounds like a mighty fine idea.

The Marriage Cure-All

As you may have noticed, one of the main themes of my writing (actually, one of the main themes of my life) is that marriage is hard. Really hard. Living with the same person day in, day out for 150 years can be challenging, to say the least. Shoes on the bed, undies on the floor, hair in the sink, and major differences of opinion on everything from child care to whether Girls Of The Playboy Mansion is acceptable viewing entertainment.... It's tough.

Normally I just whinge about how difficult it all is, and offer nothing in the way of solutions. Today, however, is different. Today, I have a solution.

Before I offer you my cure-all for marriage discontent, though, I need to give you some background.

This past weekend, I have been the parent of an only child. My mum took my big kids to the coast for the weekend so I had only Boo to look after. And it was easy. Heavenly, in fact. Boo is an energetic three year old who enjoys noise and mess and chaos as much as the next child, but having her alone - without the additional noise and mess and chaos of her brother and sister - was a breeze.



When you have only one child, it seems hard (mainly because it is). However, when you have more than one child, being left with only one seems easy in comparison.

Which is how I stumbled upon my Marriage Cure-All.

Now, obviously we can't make marriage easier. Men and women living together in harmony??? That's just silly talk! But what we can do is to make marriage seem easier, by tricking ourselves with a bit of comparison.

What do I mean? Well, when your man is making you crazy, surround yourself with many men. You think living with one man is difficult? Try living with three or four or even five! Hell, try a dozen! Live with them for a week. Listen to them blowing their noses in the middle of the night. Argue with them over finances. Watch them hogging the TV remote. Negotiate with them over when to visit the in-laws. Hear them complain about not getting enough sex.

And then just when you think you've had as much as you can take, send all of them away except for your partner. He'll be the same old partner, and he won't be any easier to live with, but as there'll only be one of him, life will seem easier. I promise!

Cranky Pants

My husband has had his Cranky Pants* on for the past few days. And I’m fed up, because this bout of Foul-Moodedness has come after a particularly bad run in our family.


Just last week, Little Man was exceedingly grumpy for a period of several days, due to Too Much Homeworking, insufficient Nintendo Time, and other unspecified Dissatisfactions. Prior to that, three year old Boo was a nightmare for a week, from a combination of Exhaustion, Adjustment To Pre-School, and Spoiled Third-Childedness**.

And before that, well, I was in a bit of a bad mood, for no reason other than...well... I am me. And I seem to get into bad moods fairly regularly (using ‘fairly’ in the sense of ‘very’).

Sometimes, of course, I have reason to be grouchy. I may have had bad news that day. I might be pre-menstrual. Or menstrual. Or pre-menopausal. I might be tired. Or stressed. I may be suffering severely from Excessive-Offspringitis***.

I might have lost my keys in the cold aisle of the supermarket. I may have lost three year old Boo in the supermarket. I may have watched Pinkela eat the last spoon of Nutella and realised there’s none left for me.

On the other hand, I may be cross for no reason at all. I’m a temperamental person. Which is fine – charming, even – as it goes with my fiery, passionate nature. Except that my husband is fiery and passionate too. And to stir things up a bit, so is our son. And to tip us completely over the edge, so is Boo. Which makes for a hell of a lot of fire in just one family.

Thankfully, nine year old Pinkela is extremely even-tempered and calm (which actually is a bit of a worry, as I have no idea who her real parents are). However her older brother and baby sister more than compensate for her serenity, making my husband and I look like beacons of calm by comparison. Between the four of us, we are one big rollercoaster of emotion.

The problem, of course, is that this is utterly exhausting. I’m no expert on statistics, but it’s clear that if I’m in a bad mood around once a week (using ‘once a week’ in the sense of ‘a lot more than that’), and my husband, Little Man and Boo are each in a bad mood around once a week, then at least one of us is in a bad mood on nearly any given day. Which means that the family emotional rollercoaster tends to be a race downhill more often than it is coasting on the flat.

Still, the rollercoaster ride won’t last for long. We only have another 18 to 20 years before the kids will hop out of the car and leave my husband and I in the fun park alone. And then we will hobble over to the Merry-Go-Round, and circle gently in nostalgic quiet, as the families scream wildly around us.

And I shall look back upon our rollercoaster days, and smile.

*These are metaphorical, rather than literal, pants, although his choice of trousers has been somewhat limited by my failure to pick up the drycleaning earlier this week (a factor no doubt contributing to the donning of said Cranky Pants).

**(possibly not an actual diagnostic term.)

***( if this isn’t an actual term, it should be.)

Marriage, The Eruption

Yesterday I was in a delightful bookstore and bought several very delightful books (actually, that's not quite true - one was on drug addiction and prostitution, one was on suicide, and one was a series of essays on social phenomenon. But they all had very nice covers.)

I also bought a tiny book called 'Don'ts For Wives', written in London in 1913. Despite its fairly negative title (I would have thought 'Do's For Wives' was rather more catchy) it is a marvellously upbeat little tome, full of nuggets of wisdom that need only minor modernisation to stay relevant today.

So, for your elucidation, education and entertainment (and a totally gratuitous use of alliteration) here are some of those nuggets, helpfully updated by me:

"Don't moralise by way of winning back the love that seems to be waning. Make yourself extra charming and arrange delicious dinners which include all your husband's favourite dishes."
= After you've been married for a while, you and your husband will go off each other. Find solace in food.

 "Don't argue with a stubborn husband. Drop the matter before argument leads to temper. You can generally gain your point in some other way."
= Don't bother fighting with your husband because he'll never give in. Withhold sex instead.

"Don't be shy of showing your love. A playful caress as you pass his chair, an unexpected touch on the shoulder, makes all the difference between merely knowing that you care for him and actually feeling it."
= Oral sex will keep your husband happy.

"Don't get angry if your husband says that he never now tastes cake like that his mother used to make. Write and ask her for the recipe."
= Live far away from your mother-in-law.

"Don't try to excite your husband's jealousy by flirting with other men. You may succeed better than you want to. It is like playing with tigers and edged tools and volcanoes all in one."
= Stay away from other men's tools or you could cause an eruption....

"Don't arrange for the chimney sweep to come on the day your husband happens to be staying at home. He won't like either the sooty smell or the subsequent upset for cleaning purposes."
= Ignore the above.

The Husband Speaks

Hopefully by now you all will have rushed to Booktopia to pre-order my book and watch the instructional video I made (using 'instructional' in its lesser known sense of 'rude'). Of course, if you're coming to my launch or planning to buy the book in a bookstore then you are excused from pre-ordering, but I highly recommend you still watch the video.

The video is a re-enactment of a dissertation I once gave called "Marital Advice" (you can tell it's a re-enactment because, well, it's a cartoon). I presented the dissertation at a Women's Function a year ago (using 'Women's Function' in the sense of 'Girl's Night Out').

However, the video offers only one side of the marital story - the female's. So, in the interests of journalistic fairness, I give to you: Marital Advice Part Two: The Husband Speaks.

Watch. And learn.

My Ideal Man

Last night on Twitter, my friend Yvette mentioned that she wished she was married to an editor - presumably because she needed assistance editing something, as opposed to editors being so devastatingly attractive (which is not to say that they're not devastatingly attractive, but that's just the way I read it).

I can tell you right now that I wouldn't want to be married to an editor. Not because there's anything wrong with editors (quite the contrary, some of my best friends are editors (which is actually not true but I'm trying to make a point here)) but because I need editors in my line of work and there is NO way I could work with someone I'm married to. Particularly not the person I'm married to at the moment (and when I say 'at the moment', it is because if we did work together, we wouldn't be married 'in the future').

I couldn't work with my husband for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I wouldn't want to spend that much time with him (I think from 7pm to 8am weeknights and one day on the weekend is the perfect balance), and secondly I think he's really bossy and he thinks I'm really argumentative, and the combination of attitudes just doesn't make for a smooth working relationship.

However, it did get me thinking about the kind of person I would like to be married to (apart from the one I am married to, of course). And my first thought was: A gourmet chef who also loved to do the laundry. It just sounded like that would make for a pretty fun life.

My second thought was that I'd like my laundry-loving gourmet-chef to be able to moonlight as a model, because of the magnificence of his physique and the luxuriousness of his hair, but for him to choose not to, because in his spare time he prefers more cerebral pursuits such as reading philosophy (critically, of course - I don't want someone who blindly accepts any propaganda he is fed), studying architecture, and writing for publications such as The New York Review Of Books and The Australian.

I would also like him to be a self-made millionaire - something to do with internet start-up companies would be good - and to be fabulous with kids, fabulous with parents, fabulous with my friends, and fabulous with me. Oh, and a fabulous lover. But not too 'fabulous'. If you know what I mean.

A couple of other women tweeted about their ideal husbands before the evening was over. Susan wanted an 'independently wealthy orphan who can cook', which pretty much says it all. Rebecca wanted a handyman, which would be useful, but I'm thinking I could afford to pay for a handyman if I married an independently wealthy orphan. And Tara wanted a masseur, child-whisperer, gardening-guru sex god who was also a talented mechanic, Tupperware addict, and social butterfly. Which didn't seem unreasonable at all.

However, Alison's needs were more simple. "I want one that speaks, doesn't fart, cooks and cleans" she tweeted. But, as I haven't come across a man yet who fulfils all those criteria, I suspect that's as hard an ask as any.

Still, the final word must go to Jo.

"Bloody hell," she tweeted. "I just wish I was married!"

Just not to one of our men, baby. Not to one of ours.

Men: How To Get More Sex

Hanging around Twitter (as I am wont to do on a Wednesday morning (using 'Wednesday' in the sense of 'every') I noticed a tweet from the illustrious Carol Duncan about sex. I tend to notice tweets about sex. It's what I do.

After posting a link to this article with the mind-blowing revelation that men never stop wanting sex, Carol posed the question: How can men get more of it from the women they are with?

Well Carol (and to all the men out there whose eyes immediately became transfixed on the screen) - let me offer a few suggestions.

1. Take responsibility for feeding and bathing the kids and putting them to bed. This doesn't necessarily make you look more sexy, but it does allow your partner to take a nice, relaxing bath before sleep time. Being all warm and clean and bubbly and scented and refreshed before getting into bed will make her more inclined to have sex when she slips between the sheets. Oh, and that whole whole 'gratitude sex' thing will kick in too, giving you even more of a chance of getting lucky. You'd better time it carefully, however, because if you take too long with the kids, or she is too quick in the bath, you're likely to find her snoring in the bedroom, and no-one likes to be woken up for sex (at least not after the birth of their first child...).

2. Tell your parter she looks incredibly gorgeous and sexy, even if - in fact, particularly if - she's having a bad hair day and feels fat. If a woman feels attractive, and if she feels ACCEPTED and WANTED for who she is - floppy boobs, flabby tummy, wrinkles and all - then she will feel sexy. And a woman who feels sexy is likely to want to have sex.

3. Have a shower and brush your teeth. Believe me, there is NOTHING appealing about getting into bed with a man who is all sweaty and yucky after a long hard day. We like you clean and smelling nice. A bit of aftershave won't hurt either. As for shaving, well, I personally like a bit of stubble, but then I like a guy who's a bit rough around the edges (and as I ended up with a cleaning living architect, stubble is the best I can do). However, if your partner likes you clean shaven, then for godsake have a shave. In fact....

4. Look the way your partner likes you to look. Wear the kind of clothes your partner likes you to wear, and do your hair the way your partner likes you to do your hair. I mean, think about it. If she likes to see you in jeans and tee shirts, and you're wearing your skivvy tucked into your tracksuit pants, you can't really expect her to ravish you that evening. Likewise, if she prefers you with a Justin Bieber hairdo, and you're sporting a dyed purple mullet, the chemistry just isn't going to happen.

5. Take her to a hotel. The combination of fresh sheets, chocolates on the pillow, room services, and no cleaning or washing to do make hotels about the sexiest place to be in the world. Provided the children are elsewhere, of course. Or at least locked in a different room.

6. If all else fails, get her tipsy on her favourite alcohol (NOT drunk as that will result in 'unconsciousness' rather than 'lovemaking') and feed her chocolates in bed. Works for me. Although I must stipulate - be circumspect about how many chocolates you bring into bed. If you bring a whole box, and your partner is anything like me, you'll have to wait for her to finish the lot. And that can take a long, long time....

Wives Talk

Here is another video I made for your viewing pleasure. It's two wives talking about their sex lives. (Well, what else would I make a video about?)

It's been up on YouTube for a little while so excuse me if you've seen it, but if you haven't, go ahead. Go on! You'll laugh out loud, I promise. Of course, the acting is a little weak and the set a tad bland, but the script is outstanding and there is a clever twist ending. Sadly, the husband in his underpants doesn't appear, but he is alluded to.

The video is called 'Wives Talk'. It is not the most creative of my titles, but hey, it's accurate.

Choc Wars - The Official Post

Over the past few weeks, the Choc Wars has been fought bravely.

In the Wrong Team, Sarah and Cate have argued that 'white chocolate' is not an oxymoron.

In the Right Team, Kylie and I have laughed derisively.

In the middle, Heath from ColesOnline (thisisnotasponsoredpost) has moderated, and will soon come to his own, no doubt well considered and mature, conclusion.

There have been many words spoken, and many words written.

But, as we all know, actions speak louder than words, and I believe, my friends, that now is the time for action.

So I present to you this footage, taken from my home just this week. The footage is genuine, but faces and voices have been disguised slightly to protect my family.
Once you have watched it, you will know, without a shadow of a doubt, that white confectionary is not worthy of the fine name of ‘chocolate’.






Now don't forget to go to the ColesOnline ChocWars site, read the other arguments, and then vote for TEAM REAL CHOC!!!

The Stupidest Ad In The Entire World

The Stupidest Ad In The World is on Sydney radio at the moment (and yes, I know that's a big call, but I'm going to make it).

I won't disclose the name of the company because I don't want to give them any more publicity (and... you know... I haven't discounted the possibility of using them yet). Let me instead just take you through the ad.

A man is talking to his male friend about his wife.

"It's her birthday coming up," he says (or something to that effect). "She's turning 40."

"Great," says his friend (or something to that effect). "But you don't look very happy about it. What's up?"

"Oh, it's just that she always looks so tired," says the husband.

Well yes. Of course she's tired! She's 40 years old. She's married. She has kids. She probably works part time, too. Poor darling. Who wouldn't be tired?

"Well, I have the perfect gift idea for her," says the mate. Fabulous, I'm thinking. What a great guy. He is sensitive to his friend's wife's needs. No doubt he'd make a brilliant boyfriend. So what is he proposing? A holiday? A weekend away with the girls? A day at a health spa?

Well no. Not exactly.

Now, I can't tell you exactly what the mate suggests, because that would kind of be giving things away. Let me just say that I have put together a little video that gives an indication of how things might go, should the hubby take his friend's advice.

Which I strongly suggest he doesn't.



So what do you think? How would you feel if your partner bought you that for your birthday? If anyone bought you that for your birthday?

If anyone bought you that at all???

The Confrontation....

If you haven't yet, watch the first vids in the series (see previous posts below), and then rejoice as Hubby Gets A Penis!!!

Please Darling, May I Have A Shirt?

A Conversation......