Dear Andrea,

Friday, 22 July 2011

My dear, I know it’s a sensitive subject, but if I am to help you, I must speak bluntly.
Here is the answer: if you want Herbert’s libido to go down a notch or two, all you have to do is demand sex with unerring regularity.
I know this can be difficult at first, especially if one has lost the appetite for one’s mate years ago, but if you stick with it, bite the bullet so to speak, it will work. At first he will be entirely delighted, and you will have a tough time, but sooner than you’d expect, he will lose his interest, until, finally, impotence sets in.
Yes, my dear, it is that simple. It is a well known fact to anyone even slightly experienced in matters of love, that when one partner moves away, sexually, the other moves ever closer. And vice versa. It may take months, but it will happen. Roll away with an irritated snarl when he tries to put his hands on you, and he will become nothing short of sexually obsessed. Touch him constantly, leer at him,  demand sex in a whiny way, and within no time you will be the captain of your marital bed. Or, if you keep this régime up, of your lits jumeaux. 
I used to have such troubles with impotent men. Simply because I enjoy a healthy appetite. With poor Raoul it got to the point where I demanded he would seek a cure, or we would break up. As he couldn’t bear the thought of living without me, he agreed to let me take him to a clinic in Baden-Baden, Germany. A Kurort with healthy air and hot water spa, and some very strict nurses. I would take strolls with him through the clinic park, he dressed in a bath robe, looking pale, me in normal attire being patient and supportive. It didn’t help, of course. How young and naïve I was.

Raoul and I broke up, but several relationships later I found the Cure. When Andrew (you remember him, the London cardiologist) started to wear those absurd boxer-briefs, my desire for him cooled “like lust in the chill grave”, as Emerson has it. I could hardly bear to look at him, let alone touch him, in that hideous underwear (Andrew I mean, not Emerson). Although at the time I didn’t mean it as an antidote, after 3 months he was completely cured of his impotence. Unfortunately, I no longer wanted him to be. I suppose I might have if he had returned to more appealing underwear, but the relationship had become a little oppressive to me anyway, so we parted ways.
I wish I could get the Nobel Prize for my impotence cure, as I deserve to. But there is little justice in this world, so I expect nothing from Sweden.
Hope this helps!


Anonymous said...

I will definitely try this...thank you!

Anonymous said...

Another great piece of advice from you.
Why did I not think of this myself! Well, I guess that's the mark of a Nobel-Prize-idea: simple yet illustrious.

Garner Davis on 31 July 2011 at 10:32 said...

Do you think you could suggest your foolproof method to my wife? I'm willing to chance impotence ... if I can first experience months of her demanding sex with unerring regularity.

Lisa on 5 August 2011 at 22:20 said...

Annie, you know by now that I'm a very modest woman, but yes - it takes genius to come up with ideas that simple and with such explanatory power.

I like to compare it to the discovery of the helix shape of the DNA molecule. Just one, light bulb flash of insight, and the whole of biology is changed.

Lisa on 5 August 2011 at 22:25 said...

Oh, Garner. How young and naive you are. You've no idea how soon you would tire of it. Sex, which once seemed alluring and desirable, will become dire duty to you. Married (carnal) life will go from frustrating to deeply oppressive. The only way out will be to find yourself, once again, a woman who always has a headache.

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