Some poor soul found this gay, gay little blog yesterday after he (I'm assuming sex, but I'm assuming right) googled:
I am so very intrigued about This Man.
Is This Man a wonderful, loving husband? Always on the search for exciting, gloriously pleasuring techniques that will keep his partner writhing and gasping for more, yes, more? Or looking for ways to meet her every emotional and (I daresay) spiritual needs? Is This Man on a quest to pave the rose-petaled road to a lifetime of marital bliss, a union of souls to become the thing of legends? When asked what makes him whole, happy to be alive, This Man doesn't have to think about the answer. "Satisfying my Wife," this man says, his voice breaking just slightly.
Or does This Man hate his life? He finds the memory of shared nuptials the greatest of frauds? Hearth and Home a world a misery? Is This Man desperate for something sexier, something younger? None of what has come to be is This Man's fault, not one little bit. It is Her! The Evil Woman! So now This Man is searching, desperate to find that one thing that makes life worth a damn. "A Satisfying Wife," he says, the look in his eyes betraying his firm voice. This Man no longer really believes in such a creature.
To both This Mans-- he of gentle spirit, and he of no soul:
You're both shit out of luck around here.