January 19, 2010 | 2:30 pm
Posted by Mihal Levy
I was in the bookstore the other day and overheard two moms talking while their less-than-one-year-old girls slept in their cushy Bugaboos. (Okay, I overheard the beginning of their conversation, but made it a point to stick around, of course pretending to give a care about the new issue of Real Simple I was holding. Sometimes organizing tips just have to take a backseat to juicy gossip.)
The mothers appeared to be in their forties. One mom clearly had her lips and eyes done, apparently not long after giving birth, it seems. They were both well-dressed, well-manicured and well…just all around well for new mothers. I started to imagine how these two met. Wives of CEO’s Club, temple sisterhood, or friends since childhood, even planning their births at the same time, apparently…and the gender of their child (or did they meet at a mothers of one-year-old girls group?) Nonetheless, they looked as though they had it together, until…
The first mom, a blonde who resembled Jennie Garth (but no, was not her), picked up a book and handed it to the second mom, who was basically a Barbie doll with red hair (do they make those?). The book Jennie handed Barbie was a trashy romance novel with a photo of Fabio embracing a woman with a tattered red dress, drenched and soaking wet from the waves crashing over them at the beach, the sun setting in the background; they stare at each other as if in pain or moments before their death. (Not sure what the title was, but must have been something like “Into the Sunset” or “Waves of Forever.”) What struck me first was their choice of novels. I expected something a little more profound, perhaps. (I guess I am just always shocked when women are attracted to “those” books.) But what struck me even more was the conversation they were having. I glued my nose to my magazine and tried to flip the pages rhythmically, so they would not catch on that I was more interested in their conversation than learning how to organize my home. (Shame on me…bad mom!)
Jennie started, “You should read this one. I loved this one. I love any of these romance novels, they are filled with so much sex. And we all know that is something I haven’t had in almost years.” (Well, we didn’t ALL know, until you said it out loud at Barnes and Noble. And I think it is quite obvious that was more like a year ago from the looks of that little one in the Bugaboo….I wanted to chime in, but didn’t.)
Barbie chimed in, “Tell me about it. But do you HATE your husband? Because I do. I would much rather get lost in a romance book then even think about sex with him, let alone doing it.” Then they both laughed.
Was this some kind of joke? I wasn’t laughing.
Jennie continued, “It doesn’t turn out the way you hoped it would. My husband is just so boring. Thank God for those vampire films too. Now those are men!”
I couldn’t help myself at this point and really wanted to butt in and say “No, those are boys.” But, I felt this was my cue to grab my how-to-organize-your-home magazine, a cup of tea and begin to blog.
This was not the first time I heard moms talk about sexless marriages. The other time was when I heard about Twilight Moms, who used the films to spice up their sex lives. There was also another time that a good friend of mine took me to her weekly creative friends circle, where moms sat around, painted, sipped wine and bad-mouthed their husbands. I lasted all of ten minutes at the creative circle; I painted, drank wine, but did not have any juicy gossip on how sad my life was or what a horrible husband I have, so I left.
I have even known couples who are married and have separate bedrooms and even separate homes in separate states. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that at all, but why be married in the first place? Is it the money that is so appealing to these women? From first glance, it did not seem that money was an issue for Jennie and Barbie. But they did prove that money can’t buy love, even though it can buy new lips. They had the bags removed from their eyes, but Coach bags added to their Bugaboos. Not sure I would have made the same decision, I’m just sayin’.
For me, the answer seems quite simple; if it is broken, get a new one. If you don’t like it, then leave. Why are these women staying in these marriages? And why are they bad-mouthing their husbands in public? And why, why would they ever give up on love or sex? For expensive Bugaboos and facelifts? Is it worth the sacrifice? I would rather have my eyes sag and my lips shrivel than my love life. Is it just me?
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