Eight things you could do to get yourself in the mood for sex

When you’ve been married for so fucking long, sometimes the “yearning” or “hunger” for sex dissipates like magic, the same way our huzzband’s browser history disappears when we check his phone.

I know, bitch. It’s not just your huzzband — my huzzband does that too when he’s tired of seeing my Pluto-sized areolas. IYKYK.

That yearning is hidden under a pile of obligations, worries, and exhaustion — especially if you have kids.

“Eww! Marriage sounds like a fucking nightmare!”

I won’t sugarcoat. It is. When you’re married to a Virgo.

I’m fucking kidding. No, I’m not.

It will become a nightmare if you’re in it with the wrong person.

But if you’re in a marriage with the right person, it can be pretty fucking wonderful, exciting, and vibrant even with all the shit in the rubble.

It is quite wonderful.

I wouldn’t know. I was just told it is. Oh to be loved right. I’m kidding.

I love my huzzband. He’s the bezt.

Rolling my eyes so far back up in my head I’m unlocking infantile memories

Butt… truth izz… it happens. Okay? It just does.

The real ones know this — the real married ones, the OGs, will probably agree with me.

If you’re a newlywed, you’re probably thinking:

“That’s just not gonna happen to us. We will stay in love forever! There will be no such thing! My husband and I will have sex because we want to have sex all day everyday! No! That’s not gonna happen. We’re gonna be different! We’re gonna be in love!”

Hate to break it to you, sweetiehoneypiebooboo, it will happen. 99%.

But this doesn’t mean that the marriage is dead, or that you don’t love each other, or that you’re with the wrong person.

It just happens. It just izz. Mmkay? It’s the reality of marriage.

If you haven’t gone through this with your huzzband, good for you then.

Here’s a fucking medal. Condragulations! You are God’s favorites. Take this free pen!

I’m kidding. Didn’t mean to be sarcastic or crude. But the OGs, real ones who have been married for decades, can agree with me in some way that they go through this phase or have gone through such a phase.

It doesn’t mean you’re not gonna live happily ever after.

It just happens. So long as it’s not lasting half a year and it’s just a dry spell… you’re good, bitch. So long as it comes and goes and it’s not a permanent thing. You’re good.

Don’t overthink it.

Zow… when those days come…

I’m talking about those days… the days when you know it’s about fucking time that you agree to have sex and you wanna have sex, but life just gets in the way.

Days when you wanna have sex, but you’re so fucking exhausted.

Days when you wanna have sex, but you’re just not in the mood.

Days when you wanna have sex, but you’re not feeling sexy and you feel like shit.

Days when you wanna have sex, but even just the thought of having sex, just the mere idea, turns you off because you’re overstimulated, overtouched, and overwhelmed.

Days when you just got into a fight and you absolutely fucking hate his guts and wonder why you fucking married him in the first place when you know you could have done better and think you deserve better, but you stayed anyway because he dyicks you down so good?

Yah. I have a list of things you could do to overcome those days and convince yourself to remember that you actually love sex, that you were once a sex goddess, and that you are a hypocritical ho. Kidding.

That you don’t fucking hate sex now; it’s the getting there that you hate.

You’re just not in the mood for it, but deep down, bitch, ho to ho, you know you wanna get dyicked down.

Zow… to get there…

1. Double-blind curtains. Get yourself double-blind curtains, or blackout curtains. Whatever the fuck you call them, and I mean like those in hotel rooms that shut out the sun like they’re shutting out bad memories and dreams. Get it.

Why? You’ll be surprised that you will subconsciously convince yourself to agree to morning sex.

Because the main reason women avoid morning sex is because it’s the fucking morning, okay?

We look like shit, crusty eyes, crusty mouth, hello halitosis, and we feel like morning light amplifies our flaws.

We feel like we’re under a microscope, and you can see blemishes, hyperpigmentation, scars, and stretch marks in full HD. Especially when we’ve had kids. Our tits are like pancakes, our nipples are oversized, our areolas the size of Pluto, and our vaginas are shaped like a disheveled roast beef.

Bright lights? We don’t fucking want it.

Bright lights + nudity + aging + postpartum body = No, we’ll have sex when it’s nighttime and the lights are out.

But in reality… we also get horny in the morning. We just don’t want you to smell our morning breath and see our flaws magnified by morning light.

We do want to get naked; we just don’t want you to see us naked.

Zow… when it’s dark, not necessarily pitch dark, like curtain dark, we’re more likely to submit to morning sex.

If you’re worried about morning breath, keep those Listerine strips at arm’s reach by your nightstand and just pop a strip and you’re good to go.

But, beetch… I’m telling you right now… men don’t fucking care about morning breath. Real men don’t care about morning breath because everybody gets morning breath; stop stressing too much. Of course they’d care if it’s like an everyday thing and your breath smells like shit and stomach acid all the fucking time, but in the morning, they don’t fucking care.

It’s just us that care. Because we worry about too much of what our huzzbands think of us.

Zow… switch to blackout curtains and keep a Listerine strip pack on your nightstand; see where that shit takes your marriage.

2. Warm lighting. On top of blackout curtains, switch to warm light. Everywhere, in all the rooms of your house, switch to warm light. Even in the fucking bathroom.

Nobody benefits from fluorescent lighting, okay? That white light is atrocious. Even when Thomas Edison invented light, the fucking lightbulb was fucken warm yellow, like the sun, not white as ice snow.

Edmund Germer, the inventor of white, fluorescent light should go through unmedicated labor contractions that are 1 minute apart for 48 hours for inventing this fucken bright light. Kidding.

We love a warm yellow light. Warm lighting… dim lighting… is associated with romance.

It gives the similar feeling it gives when you’re near a candlelight, and candles are associated with romance because it’s live fire, it’s warm, it gives off an ethereal/spiritual feeling, and it helps induce that feeling of intimacy. It’s drama.

It brings us back to when we were primal beings, when we lived in caves, when we were animals, and we were starting fires to cook and get warm. It subconsciously reminds us that we’re alive.

That’s not actually true… I made that up. But can you see? Can you just try to connect the two? Yah.

But that’s why you don’t see white lights in fine dining restaurants or clubs or bars. White light is just not romantic. Keep that shit in hospitals. Warm lighting all the way.

And nobody looks good in fluorescent lighting. Nobody. Mariah Carey fucking hates it. As she should. As anyone should. It’s fucking atrocious.

Anyone can look good under warm lighting. Anyone can feel good under warm lighting. Notice how you feel sexy in a fine dining restaurant with warm light? Candles everywhere? That shit should also be brought at home.

The atmosphere feels so sexy, chill, and dramatic in warm light, and when you feel it, your body feels it, which will convince you to feel that you wanna have some romance. You just wanna cozy up with your lover. You’re not afraid to be looked at, because you know you look good under warm light.

But when you’re under white, fluorescent light, you can’t fucken chill, you can’t fucken relax, you don’t feel sexy. That’s why you don’t see warm lighting in office buildings, because they don’t want you relaxed; they want you working, they want you productive, and they don’t want you feeling sexy and romantic.

Zow… switch to warm lighting at home so you can feel sexy and romantic all the fucking time, which will be good for your marriage.

3. Brush your teeth. Keep your mouth clean all the fucking time. Dentist every 6 months. Floss every time you eat. Clean your tongue every time you brush. Hydrate all the fucking time. A dehydrated mouth breeds bacteria. Bet you didn’t know that.

Listen. When you know you don’t have bad breath and you know your mouth is clean, you’re not reluctant to get in your huzzband’s face.

You’re not afraid to talk to him.

You’re not afraid to get close to his face.

You’re not afraid to suck on his tongue.

You are more open to being embraced. You are more open for kisses. You are more open for some tongue time.

You may not be aware that it’s an issue, but now that you’re thinking about it, you’re probably going, oh, shit, yeah.

Coz, I’m the same. I don’t sit near my husband when I know my breath is hot and I’m feeling lazy to brush my teeth. I don’t wanna kiss him, and I don’t wanna be kissed.

But when I just brushed my teeth, and I know I’m smelling fresh, I position my face so close to his neck; we’re almost breathing the same fucken air.

When the wife is not afraid to get close, the husband will stay away from hoes.

Zow… keep it fresh, ladies. Your marriage will benefit from you having a clean mouth.

4. Fruity-scented, not floral-scented, lotions or perfumes. Sorry to break it to you, but men respond better to fruity fragrances instead of floral ones. I know. I know.

“But all the best perfumes are floral!!!”

Well… it’s because women love flowers. We love the smell because it’s feminine. It exudes femininity. The target market of the perfume industry is women, not men. Because men rarely buy perfumes, because women are the ones doing the shopping. Zow… primarily, they will sell perfumes that smell good to women.

But in reality, men and women respond more positively to sweet, fruity scents. Vanilla. Strawberry. Cherry. Watermelon. Even cucumber. Cinnamon.

Place one floral-scented lotion on the back of your hand and a fruity-scented lotion on the back of your other hand, smell each other alternately, close your eyes, and then ask yourself, “If I didn’t know there’s lotion in my hands, which hand would I rather taste?”

A hundred percent, you will choose the fruity-scented lotion over the floral one because the fruity-scented lotion is the closest to being edible.

Zow… when you get out of the shower, dry yourself, and put a fruit-scented lotion/perfume/oil all over you, immediately, you won’t be aware of it at first, but in the back of your mind, you’re ready to be eaten. You’re ready to be devoured.

Subconsciously, you and your husband will get the idea that you’re delicious.

This will convince you that you are delicious, and you will most likely want to be close to your husband and not be afraid to be devoured.

It’s so miniscule. It’s so minute, but when you think about it, it changes things now.

Zow… switch to something fruity, ditch the floral for a minute. Just try it. If it doesn’t change things or improve things, you’re welcome to slap my husband in the face. Not mine. Coz, my face is precious.

5. Keep the air in your house smelling good. When you enter a hotel lobby or a café or just any place that smells really good, don’t you notice how it elevates your mood?

When you enter a hotel lobby, you feel rich, luxurious, bougie, and sexy. You feel like you’re from old money, right? Nobody can touch you.

You’re like, “Who are these peasants?” I’m kidding.

When you enter a coffee shop, you get energized. That first slap of the smell of freshly ground coffee beans? It’s like cocaine for intelligent people. When you’re at a café, you just feel like you wanna go. You’re ready for the day. Ready to grind. Let’s go! Get this money, bitch!

When you step into a bakeshop and the smell of butter in the oven hits your face? Bitch… don’t even… I fucking love the smell of bread. The smell of a blueberry danish, bitch, fresh? Glistening before you take a bite? Some pan au chocolat, fresh? Ugh! Apple pie? Shiiiet. Doesn’t it just make you feel like a kid? Like everything’s gonna be okay? Like you’re safe. Like you’re loved and you just wanna love? I can’t be the only person that feels that way.

It’s because when you smell something nice, or you smell your favorite scent, and you’re in that atmosphere for quite a while, it relaxes you, lowers your stress hormones, and makes you feel delicate and feminine. And when you’re in that particular mood, you’re more open to physical touch because you feel like you just wanna be loved and give that love back.

Zow… keep Febreze at hand, keep a candle lit in a safe corner, diffuse a fragrant oil, or keep coffee brewing. Just let your house smell good all the fucking time, see where that shit takes your marriage.

Imagine if your house smells good all the fucken time, just close your eyes and imagine it smelling like a café or a Yankee Candle store, smelling like coffee beans or roasted marshmallows or a brown sugar pecan cinnamon roll. Right? Right? Don’t you just wanna cozy up with your lover? Just be near him, cuddling or dry humping?

Yeah. Zow… keep your house smelling good all the time. It seems like it’s such a minor thing, but it actually has a significant impact on your marriage.

6. Take a bath before your husband comes home from work.

This is not for him, bitch. This is for you. Stop complaining!

After taking a shower, our body temperature drops. We become more relaxed — more loving.

Not to mention, when we’re clean, we become more willing to throw ourselves at our husbands. We’re not worried about smelling like fresh caca or fermented vagina juice.

When he comes in for a hug after a long day, the hug is longer when we smell good. They bury their face in our hair. They

Make it something he’ll look forward to during the drive home.

“I can’t wait to get to my wife and hug her with a big, hard on.”

A lot of us don’t notice or are not aware of it, but men love hugs more than we do. And it means more to them that it does to us. Most of the time, they’re nonverbal with their emotions, so they communicate through physical touch.

A hug from their wife is like a period to a long day. And when he comes home and you’re smelling good? Even better!

Men love the smell of shampoo. Freshly shampooed dry hair. Ask any man what his favorite smell is; he’s not gonna say “when she smells of perfume.” Instead, he’ll say something like, “Her smell after a shower.”

Because in his mind, it’s “Go time.”

And when he comes home to you smelling good, smelling clean, he’s gonna wanna come home every fucking day, instead of dreading it. On top of that, he’s gonna realize (subconsciously) that you’re making an effort to smell good for him, which will also influence him to smell good all the time. On top of that, he’s gonna love his life, he’s gonna love who he’s married to, which will influence him to make more fucken money to give to you. Yaz. SEE? I told you. This was for you.

I’m kidding. But yaaaaah… go take a shower before he comes home. See where that shit takes your marriage.

7. Keep it hairless. I know. You’re like, all this fucking upkeep for man?

Let’s face it, bitch, deep down, we prefer our vaginize city hairless. It’s the process of getting it hairless that’s fucking annoying. But we do. We love it when it’s hairless, don’t we?

It smells cleaner. It looks cleaner. It feels more fresh.

We feel like porn stars or sex nymphs.

When our kitty is bald, don’t you notice that we’re more open to having our husband’s feast on it? When she’s hairless, we’re not worried about what it looks like to him or how it smells. We just let him have it.

“Like, yes, bitch, breathe the fermented air of my pussy. Get all up in it!”

But when it’s been weeks since we’ve shaved/waxed/trimmed, we’re like,

“No! I haven’t shaved! I have to shave first! ”

Instead of it being spontaneous and romantic, it becomes a tug of war.

When the vaginize city is bald, he’s going to think/believe that you’re his little, slutty porn star. Because you rarely see a porn star with a bush, unless it’s a porno with Linda Lovelace as the main.

Hate 70s pornos. Like, bitch, I can’t even see shit from all the bush.

Zow… unless you’re Linda Lovelace reincarnated, let’s try our best to get rid of it.

8. Watch porn. More specifically, watch “Cunnilingus.”

1 minute of screen time, then close it. A minute is enough to want some tongue flicking on your bean.

Obviously, don’t fucking do it if you don’t like watching it, but if you’re okay with porn, go ahead, watch just 1 minute of it. Or two. That’s it. Just a taste. Just a swig to fire up your brain.

Just enough to make you go, “Oh, shit. I want that. I want his tongue on my bean, too.”

This is just when he’s been asking you back-to-back for some jackhammering, but you just can’t fucking get there, you know?

For when you want to, deep down, but you just don’t wanna fucking do it because you have absolutely no energy for it.

Just 1 minute of watching “pussy eating” then you’re good.

No shame in this. It happens all the fucking time, especially if you’re a mom. This happens to me all the fucking time.

And when I watch porn-on-the-cob, my brain goes from 10% brain activity to 100%.

But why do all this?

“It’s too fucking much! It’s fucking exhausting! All this for my husband? It’s too male-centric!”

Bitch… shut the fuck up. Okay? Why did you even get married in the first place?

Marriage should be a 24/7 exchange of energy. Why?

What’s the goal of it in the first place? Why did you get married to this one person?

It’s to give love and receive love 200% forever, right?

Be with your soulmate — your person.

To be with the one who’ll make this life on this doggone earth worthwhile.

If you’re not willing to do the work, don’t get fucking married. Period. No backspace.

If you’re only gonna give 80% in a marriage, get a divorce. Give it to somebody who actually wants it.

Because… obviously, if that man is good to you, faithful, loyal, gives you money, loves your kids, sucks on your clit like it’s a crawfish head, and worships the ground you walk on, then give him your body, mind, and soul, bitch. Stop fucking holding back. Give it all!

He may not be perfect, but if he checks off 8–9 boxes of your 10-point list, bitch, you’re good. Stop holding back!

Like… I wanted a 6-foot man. That was my number 1 criterion.

A man has to be over 6 feet for me.

What did I end up with? A fucken 5’7.

Am I okay with his height? No. Fuck no. Not until I die.

But those men that I’ve been with who were over 6 feet didn’t treat me the way I wanted to be treated, didn’t think I was for marriage, and had smaller dyicks.

I was suprised too. I don’t know what the fuck happened.

Maybe all the growth went to their height; there was none left for their dyicks.

I’m saying, you can’t have it all, bitch, but if he’s genuinely good to you, loves you like a queen but fucks you like you’re a slut, then love him right!

Love the fucker right. No ifs, no buts. Don’t make it transactional. Make it unconditional.

If he worships the ground you walk on, worship the ground he walks on back.

If he licks your clit like he wants it to peel off of your cunt, then suck on his dyick like you have no throat, bitch.

Compete with each other. The competition izzz, who can love whom better!

You only have one life. Your huzzband only has one life.

The average marriage lasts 50 years. That’s if you get married in your 30s.

Together, you’ll be spending the rest of your life for 2,600 weeks.

You only have 2,600 weeks together with your huzzband.

Think.

Zow… Does it really matter if he didn’t take out the trash twice this week? When you asked him 10,000 times?

It does. It fucking does. Yup. Yes, it does.

Butt!!! My point izz…

Should you really keep count of the faults?

Should you really hold back?

Should you really make it transactional?

“I will only love you more if…”

“I will suck your dyick if…”

“I will give you some later if…”

“Why should I give you all of me?”

Stop it. Just stop. Mmkay? Let the minor things slide. Just let them go.

Don’t waste your time bickering; spend your time fucking.

When you’re dying, and the light is leaving your eyes, you don’t wanna go…

“He should have taken the trash when I asked him to.”

You wanna think…

“I have been loved like no other, and I have loved like no other. What a life i have lived.”

And when your huzzband is dying… the last thing you would want him to think about is how happy he was to have experienced life being loved by you or your kids. You would want him to be so happy and fulfilled to go and leave this one life because he was so loved.

You know what I mean? You don’t wanna die and think, “I’ve never experienced true love.”

Zow… give that fucker true love. And get yourself some true love.

We only have one life, bitch. Suck his cack. Sit on his face. Get his money. Love him like his testicles are made out of popsicles. Bye.