You'll notice that today's print features last week's column because the Print Version People suspected that I may scare the bejeebus out of the print readers with this week's column on marital relations. We haven't gotten far enough in our relationship
to either discuss sex or ask each other to help the other move. I
imagined the print readers choking on their biscotti over their fine
china as they read "We tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep numerous
times because the ridiculous sounds emanating through the drywall
sounded as though one of my parents was loudly learning to pronounce
their vowels."
I swear I am not a heathen.
Nor am I trying to smut-up a well-written publication.
I tried to be as respectful of the whole marital relating issue as
possible simply because I feel it's a private matter and one of the
things I don't write about; but I wanted to write about an aspect of it
because the biggest gripe I hear from some of my married friends is
that their husbands let slide the romance but still expect the spoils.
Also, my mother may or may not whoop me - because I may possibly deserve it - the woman whose language can be more colorful than a rainbow when she chooses.
