Confessions From a Sexless Marriage

shutterstock_100583104Two months ago, I made a decision that would affect my nether regions in ways unknown: I lounged in a hot tub. I even Instagrammed it. There was no naughty business to be had; it was just me and some Bud Light Raz-ber-itas in a very hot hot tub for like, two hours. I then did what no vagina-having person should ever do: I spent the remainder of the day in my damp swimsuit. The next morning I woke up to two unfortunate realities: a ridiculous Raz-ber-ita hangover and widespread vaginal burn. Sh*t.

After popping a few pain relievers and WebMD-ing myself with a urinary tract infection, I began the arduous process of drowning my internal organs with all the water and 100% pure (and repulsive) cranberry juice I could get my mitts on in a desperate attempt to rid my lady bits of Satan’s static burn.

Three days later and no closer to relief, I briefly considered visiting my doctor, but not before treating myself for a yeast infection, because a 7-day course of Miconazole 2% couldn’t hurt anything, right? Wrong.

As a busy wife and mom, I’m not known for spontaneous romps in the sack or cinematic sexcapades. I have homework to check and Housewives to watch, but that doesn’t mean I undervalue the pleasure and importance of sexual intimacy with my husband. [read more…]


  1. arriacross says:


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