I have realised that over the past 25 years I have managed to manipulate or as it is called in upper class circles managed the art of ‘House Husbandry’.
Below are some tips passed down to me by various women who used to drink in my bar years ago…they are fucking scary…
1. Always pretend not to be able to cook, burn everything you touch, (this way you will never have to cook EVER). This is good but I suppose dropping a baby to avoid nappy changing is a bit too far.
2. Spend months being lovely, pliable and amiable and at the drop of a hat, scream into his face that ‘You don’t understand me, I hate seafood’
3. Tell him you are a twin and your twin died at birth, then explain that was just a joke. Three months later cry about your lost twin, burn down the house and say you were hearing your twins voice. (An old pal told me that one, scary and a bit extreme).
4. Refuse sex for weeks, then in the middle of the night wake him up and demand powerful jungle sex, bite and scratch and demand three orgasms.
5. Buy loads of clothes on a joint credit card, when the huge bill arrives, cry into your dress and weep about your poverty stricken childhood and threaten to cut off all your hair!
6. Pluck out his hair when he is drunk and make him feel sad about baldness.
7. Put Ralgex heat cream inside a condom and make him think the burning on his cock is his badly managed thrusting and his quickness at sex.
Ok I have NEVER done any of the above, because it just seems like too much effort, I prefer to use my secret powers of passive/aggressive personality to weaken him slowly.
I could never pretend all that shit above and try to get away with it, it takes a lot of ‘play acting’ to carry out the above and I would never fucking remember if I was supposed to be Mary Poppins or Myra Hindley and possibly get both mixed up and that’s not good when you are dealing with children!
I just want to be me and I am happy with the man he has become, its better than the 16 year old he was when we got engaged, he was arrogant, annoying, immature and I was perfect! (Well nearly).
Jerry Hall told us we had to be a whore in the bedroom and chef in the kitchen. I was neither. I don’t intend to wear red peep hole bra’s, suck cock and make quiche. Life is too short._