When the Sex goes Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen, Arrivederci, Buh Bye

Recently, I was very honored to contribute to an article on Prevention.com.

The article, by Meghan Rabbitt, turned out great and really provided some good advice for couples who aren’t enjoying too much nookie in their relationship.

While I really enjoyed how she pieced together thoughts from other “sexperts” and myself, I also wanted everyone to read the full breadth of what I sent over to her as sometimes it can help to hear a single voice too.

She had asked me to answer 4 questions and here they are, along with my answers. I hope it can help some couples out there who are struggling with a relationship that doesn’t include much sex.

  1. Why does stressing about infrequent sex make sex worse?

Hopefully, sex for you is a joyful, stress-relieving romp with your significant other. But if it’s not and sex has become infrequent, it’s natural to start stressing about it. One of the big downfalls to that particular type of stress is that you’ll likely start to connect negative feelings to sex, which can create deep resentment towards your mate.

When sex becomes a scarcity and is no longer that wonderful, intimate release with your loved one, it can turn your thoughts to, “Why don’t we ever have sex? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him? Is this how the rest of my life is going to be? Is he having an affair? Does he not find me attractive anymore?” The list goes on and on. This type of mindset can breed hurt feelings, insecurity, a lack of trust, and an overall negative attitude towards the relationship as a whole. That negativity can easily spread into all aspects of your life if you aren’t careful.

Beyond all of the self-doubt and resentment that a floundering sex life can cause, it can also set up great expectations for when it does come time for sexual intimacy. It can be easy to think, “Well, when we do have sex it damn well better be amazing! After all, it feels like it’s been forever since we last made love, so why shouldn’t all that built-up desire and pent-up need make the sex just that much hotter?” Then, when the sex is similar to what it’s always or recently been, you find yourself let down and deflated, rather than thrilled and excited about the next time.

The constant hope that you’ll have sex…the letdown if it doesn’t happen…and the disappointment when it does if it isn’t particularly great, can put you on a rollercoaster of emotions regarding sex and your partner that seem to always leave you wanting more.

It’s hard on any relationship, no matter how strong, when those up and down emotions become pervasive. The more you stress about it, the deeper the anxiety and feelings of rejection can go. And typically those emotions lead to even less sex, so you’re existing in a self-perpetuating situation that it can be hard to find your way out of.

So, when you find yourself stressing about how much or little sex you are having, take some time to evaluate what might be causing the situation and then try and figure out some strategies for change. It never helps to point a finger of blame at anyone, and the Blame Game only causes further stress and embarrassment. Broach the conversation lovingly and if you just can’t find a way to talk about it, for whatever reason, then step up your game the next time you and your partner make love and see if that new special technique you bring to the bedroom does anything to reawaken the sexy passion you once shared.

  1. What are the downsides/detriments to talking yourself into having sex — even if you’re not in the mood?

This is a topic over which there is much debate. There are experts out there who will tell you to talk yourself into sex, even if you aren’t in the mood, because once you’re in the thick of it you’ll start to enjoy it. They reinforce that the act of having sex makes you feel sexier and will eventually lead to having more sex on a regular basis.

The flip side of that is that sex is hopefully some combination of a loving, wild, delicious, lusty, bonding, and exciting way of connecting with your mate. If you go into sex half-hearted, will the passion be there? Will your partner feel your apathy?

Having sex when one isn’t in the mood can feel at worst like a violation and at best like you’d rather be getting a root canal. Creating a sexual environment in which those are the emotions that you tie to sex isn’t healthy in either the short or long term.  When your feelings about sex are negative, your response to even the thought of it can become Pavlovian in nature, almost visceral. When that happens your desire can lessen even more, thereby exacerbating an already tough situation.

Sex should be the culmination of love, lust, need, want, desire and a whole host of other emotions. Not a Well, if I have to I guess I can endure it type of activity. Make love when it feels right to both of you for that is when you and your partner will achieve the closeness and satisfaction that comes with a healthy sexual relationship.

  1. Why is frequency not as important as intimacy?

It’s the old argument over quantity vs. quality. Is it better to devour a really good pizza once a week or eat some frozen cardboard pizza 3 times a week? I’d well imagine people could easily argue both sides. But here is why I’d vote for intimacy over frequency any time.

Think back to your most amazing sexual experience. Was it crazy and exhilarating? Was it loving and tender? Was it some yummy combination of both? I bet when you think back on it you can remember every tantalizing touch. Or maybe you only remember the overall feeling of “Wow. That was incredible. I need to sleep for a week to recuperate.” Either way, it left a delightful positive imprint in your brain about just how good sex can be.

Now, think back on the most boring sex you’ve ever had. How did it leave you feeling? I often joke with people that if the sex is not worth the cleanup, then I’m not doing it. Boring sex can be dreadful because it strips you of all the tingles and passion that we equate with good sex. It turns sex into a chore rather than feeling like you are tripping the light fantastic. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to think of sex in the same way I think of cleaning my kitchen.

So, if someone put the question to me: Would you rather have amazing sex once a week or ho-hum sex 3 times a week? I think the answer would pop out of my mouth lightning quick: Amazing sex!

It’s important to remember, especially in a long-term relationship, that your mate having sex with you more often doesn’t mean they love you more. And having sex with you less frequently doesn’t mean they love you less. It’s never that cut and dry. What you can do to show how deeply you love one another, when the sex isn’t particularly frequent, is taking the time to lavish each other with unbridled passion when you do have sex. Ensuring that both of you are happy, satisfied and feel wanted can help nurture a continued sense of closeness even when you are outside of the bedroom.

One of the most enduring results of good sex is the intimacy it breeds between lovers. Intimacy stretches itself into all aspects of life. It helps us feel loved, cherished, adored, understood, and safe. Those feelings create an overall sense of happiness and security that foster an environment where everyone knows they are valued, loved and respected.

  1. How can long-term couples invigorate their sex life, without the stress/pressure to have sex often?

I’m going to tow the company line here and suggest great communication. I know it sounds trite, but over time it’s easy to forget what your partner really likes in bed (or on the kitchen counter) and simply asking can remind us of the fun sexual things we did long ago.

It’s easy for sex to become rote. He kisses this. I rub that. I get into this position. Bang, we’re done. No one wants a script for sex that’s the same over and over.

If you want to liven up your sex life, try and remember the sex you had during the first year you were together.

  • Were there certain places you liked to have sex?
  • Were there positions you favored that you don’t do anymore?
  • Are there erogenous zones that either of you haven’t paid attention to in a while?

To start rebuilding your sex life without doing anything drastic, you can go back to what you liked to do when the relationship first began—that can go a long way to rekindling the spark. It’s amazing how just feeling wanted by your partner can liven up your sex life.

You can also try something new. I’m not suggesting that everyone goes out and buys a blindfold and handcuffs, but just easing into something you haven’t done before can be titillating and kick your sex life back into high gear.

For example:

  • Have you tried roll playing? If you haven’t done that before, start slow and warm into it.
  • What about lingerie or sexy costumes?
  • How about talking dirty?
  • Are their certain scents that get you revved up?
  • Do you romance each other outside of the bedroom to get revved up for fun in the bedroom?
  • What about a quickie in the bathroom or the back seat of your car?

Sometimes trying something new, even if you just barely dip your toe in the pool, can invigorate a sex life that’s seen better days. The thrill and excitement that comes along with new experiences can make us relive the butterflies in our tummies that we had when we first started out on our sexual journeys.

Ultimately, while having a satisfying sex life is important, it’s achieving a balance in a relationship that everyone can live with that’ll help you endure in the long run. For some people, sex just isn’t that important. For others it’s the be-all-end-all of life. Finding a way to communicate and compromise so that both parties feel loved, desired and safe is the real path to enjoying a lifelong adventure with the one you love.

Author Jodi Ambrose

jodiambrose.com | jodiambroseblog.com | @jodiambrose

Okay, so all that above writing was me trying to sound like an adult (and trying not to cuss or be overly sarcastic!), but the short and sweet reality of it is: Sometimes couples stop having sex. It just happens. It may totally suck, but it happens nonetheless. Whether there’s an inciting incident that somehow kills the spark, or it’s the kids, the job, being tired all the time, feeling like roommates, sexual laziness, someone’s porn habit, whatever it is, sometimes the sex just falls away.

Believe it or not, one of the things I get asked about most often is what to do when the sex stops. Or why do I think the sex has stopped. And it comes from just as many women as it does men. This is not nearly as gender-specific of a problem as you might assume. It’s not just the ladies saying no–it’s a good chunk of men too. I had one male friend ask me how I can help him get interested in sex even half as much as he’s interested in football. He is not unique in asking that question.

I think there are a million reasons why the sex can peter out to nearly nothing–but the real questions for your future are:

  1. Is it something you can live with?
  2. Is the relationship fulfilling in every other way (or most other ways)?
  3. Do you love and adore your partner to the point where sex being a rarity is tolerable because everything else is going so well?

If you are in this type of a relationship, know you are not alone. I can’t begin to tell you how many couples are in an almost-sexless relationship. It happens WAY more than you would think. But it’s typically something no one really talks about, even with their friends, because admitting you never get laid can be embarrassing and no one wants someone else looking at them like: “What’s wrong with you? Do you suck in bed? Are you that undesirable?” When the reality is that it’s probably (mostly) none of that.

I’ve also heard from men and women that they’ve already tried everything they can think of to re-kindle the spark. Boudoir photos shoots, lingerie, stepping up the foreplay, more romance, sensual massage, talking dirty, being the best lover they can possibly be, being spontaneous, buying toys, role-playing, losing weight, gaining weight, wearing make-up more often, dressing nicer, being nicer…you name it. And sometimes none of that works. No matter what you do, the sex still just limps along like it has a broken leg. And arm. And back. And neck. And dick. And muff.

It can be so incredibly frustrating and it can be easy to translate a lack of sex to rejection as a whole. And no one likes to be or feel rejected. It hits home down deep where all the worst of our emotions lurk and eat away at our happiness.

Alas, sometimes, sex just falls by the wayside. So, it’s up to you to either find a way to fix it (with some of my awesome suggestions above!) ;) or find a way to live with it, or get out of the relationship. Walking around miserable all the time because you never get laid will only lead to resentment and pain that worsens over time. So your options are to fix it, forget it, or leave it. But you can’t mope about it forever. It will ruin all of your joy.

Of course, my hope for everyone is that they get the best damn nookie of their life as often as they want it. Three Cheers for Awesome Bang-Bang-Time! :) :) :) But if that’s not you, know that you aren’t alone and that less sex is not a direct correlation to less love. Sex is just one way of showing love. If you can’t do it that way, make sure to show it in every other way you can.



I’m trying something new…NO! Not bestiality! Ya bunch of perverts! ;)

Over the last few years I’ve had some requests to turn my blog into a podcast of sorts.

As I’m lazy as fuck (in reality I just work too damn hard during the day!), I’ve been putting it off. But with my last post I got a few emails telling me they want to hear it instead of read it. So, I’m giving in.

But I must warn you…I’m doing it in one take. So if I fuck up horribly, sneeze or decide to eat dinner while recording…well, you are just going to have to hear it all. ;)

Here’s my first try. It’s a recording of my last post, “I’ve HAD it,” which is a rant about dumbfuckery.

It’s not word-for-word, but it’s close.

Don’t be too hard on me and all my mess-ups.



Here’s the link if ya wanna see the last pic in the post. :)


Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

I still believe that icecream should be one word. WHY ISN’T IT ONE WORD??? It doesn’t make any sense. Iceberg is one word. So is Iceland. What about iceman? Even iceweasel is one word–though I have no flippin’ idea what it means.

Anyway, I digress!

You guys know I love chocolate.

If I could eat it all day, every day without dying of malnutrition, I’d do so. To hell with being able to fit into a car. Chocolate rules!

So, in an effort to eat food that is as healthy and non-processed as possible (meaning if it contains plastic, shit I cannot pronounce, or metal shavings, I’m trying to shy away from it), I thought that what I’d do is when I’m dying for some chocolate I’d just eat one spoonful of my favorite chocolate iceCREAM (dammit!) on earth: Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. Just the name of it makes me a bit randy! And it contains ingredients that don’t tongue tie me.

Believe it or not I’m perfectly capable (though it takes ALL my strength) of eating only one bite per day. It sates my chocolate craving and is only about 25 calories for a small bite.

About a week ago I realized that my month-old pint of B&J is down to the last bite. Yes! It lasted a whole month. I am quite proud of myself.

I was so excited about getting that last delicious morsel of orgasmic chocolate heaven into my gaping maw that I attacked the pint with a ferocity typically known only to mother lions protecting their cubs.

Alas, that damn stuff was so frozen that it was not very accepting of my spoon. It bent the damn thing in half. (I know I’m not the only person with like 10 oddly bent spoons in their silverware drawer from where hard iceCREAM bent it and you had to try and mush it back into shape with only moderate success.)

Dang bendy spoons!

Dang bendy spoons!

So, back to the inaccessible B&J: GAME ON BITCH! I was gonna get that chocolate onto my spoon come hell or high water. PMS waits for NO frozen iceCREAM.

Finally, after digging at it and prying it away from the edge of the pint, I get some success. The spoon is in and the iceCREAM is slightly mobile, if not still a wee bit stuck.

With one final YANK I free the chocolate bliss from its wretched home and watch it go sailing through the air to land with an unceremonious splat on my kitchen floor.


Now, I don’t know about you, but my kitchen floor isn’t…well…clean.

As I refuse to clean anything in the kitchen and it all falls to the hubby, I can’t complain if the kitchen floor is gross. If I’m not willing to clean it, I also can’t bitch if it’s not clean.

I look lovingly upon my iceCREAM splat and say, “5 second rule!” I’m eating it and I don’t care.

I pick it up off the floor, analyze the 8 cat hairs and various other ickies now attached to it and decide that it’s worth the risk.

I remove all of the extra floor sprinkles now added to my piece of chocolate heaven and go to put it into my mouth.

Alas, my fingers are warm and with all the picking off of the ickies the iceCREAM has slightly melted and whoops! Through my fingers it falls again onto the floor.


But, eh, to hell with it. I cleaned it once, I can clean it again.

Now I’m back to removing cat hair and other Typhoid-carrying elements from my manna from Heaven. Finally, it looks clean enough to eat (well, sorta) and I pop that bite ‘o yumminess into my waiting mouth.

Mmmmmm…chocolate…mmmmmm…in love with Ben & Jerry. Wanna marry them…mmmmm… WHAT THE FUCK? Yep, there was a “what the fuck” moment while luxuriating in the chocolate bliss that is New York Super Fudge Chunk. I guess my iceCREAM picked up a hitchhiking pepper seed that had fallen to the floor a few days ago when the hubby was cooking Thai food.

Not sure how much you know about Thai peppers, but to say they are hot is like saying that Megan Fox or Chris Hemsworth (Thor) are just kinda okay looking–a tremendous understatement.

FIRE dammit! My mouth is on FIRE!

Yes, the iceCREAM did help it a bit as the cold helped numb my poor tongue. But whatever kind of pepper seed attached itself to my hunk ‘o hunk of burning dessert was bound and determined to survive.

My damn mouth burned for over a full day. Son of a bitch! Dumb floor. Dumb extra-frozen iceCREAM. Dumb pepper seed.

What…no “Dumb Jodi” in that list? Yeah, I should have been at the top of it! Single-dropped iceCREAM is bad enough. Double-dropped? I should have taken the second drop as a sign from God to just slowly back away from the chocolate. But since I don’t listen to anyone, including my own common sense, I had burny-tongue as my lesson of the day.

Well, actually, I didn’t learn any lesson. I’d still eat double-dropped iceCREAM if it was the last bite in the pint. I’m horrifyingly gross and I’m okay with it! :)


Absofuckinlutely Hysterical!!


We all know I love Bernadette from Rants from my Crazy Kitchen. Not only did she contribute 2 recipes to my cookbook, but she pretty much just kicks tons of ass. (Go follow her. Go now. Well…after you read what’s below. Then go follow her.) ;)

So, she sent me to a “blog translation” page that takes a webpage and translates it into hilarity. If you thought I had bad language, you ain’t seen NOTHIN’ yet! She picked her favorite post of mine, “I Gots me the Buzz Muff.” and had it translated. Total riot!

It’s so damn funny that I about puked laughing. It’s called gizoogle and in its own words it describes itself as: “Fo’ all y’all biotches who wanna find shiznit!” Nope, I kid you not.

Now, this is HORRIBLY POLITICALLY INCORRECT. It’s offensive and wonderful and appalling and that’s why I like it.

If you offend easily, do NOT click on the below link. I don’t want no guff from easy-to-offend people. 

Of course, easily offended people don’t usually come to my blog as it’s just awful and perverse and wrong most of the time! (But you know my heart is always in the right place.) :)

God bless Snoop Dog for creating the “izzle” factor. Gotta love Snoop. :)



PS: My McAfee says the page is safe to visit, so you should be good to go and not get spammed by non-stop, two-girls-and-a-cup-type porn. ;)

PSS: I’ve never seen that and never want to. I don’t want to know what it’s about–though I have some ideas. Please don’t tell me or I’ll have to wash my brain with lye. ;)

The Horrors of my Noggin and the Related Panic Attack

I’m telling you, life is NEVER dull. ;) Not that I wish to be bored, but c’mon, a little peace now and again is a good thing.

So, 3 weeks ago I got my hair dyed.

It’s pretty much been every color in the rainbow over the last 30 years.

My very first “boyfriend” told me one day that, “You’d be perfect if only you were blonde.” Of course what did I do? I immediately went and dyed it blonde and just as immediately realized that blonde is NOT a good look on me. Eeeee gawds, it was a nightmare. Especially with my personality.

If some guy said that to me today I’d verbally cut him until he crawled home crying for his mommy, dragging his entrails behind him. But I was 14 then and always concerned with being as perfect as possible. Thank God I don’t worry about that shit anymore. Take me as I am or fuck off. I rather like that mantra! ;)

I went to get the blonde nightmare fixed a few days later and ended up with 3 different colors of hair. I don’t know why the fix-it hair dyeing adventure turned into such a fiasco, but the good news was that my mom understood that I couldn’t go into public and she let me skip school for a week until I could wash a bunch of it out of my hair. Best Mom Ever Award for that! :)

Over the years it’s been light brown with highlights, black, dark brown, that purpley-red color, accidentally green (yep, that sucked as much as you’d think), red, and so on. I get bored easily with my hair color. Now, the style’s been the same for 20 years and will probably be the same until I die. But the color? That I like to mess with.

So, when I got my hair dyed a few weeks ago I went with a blue black. I wanted that shit dark dark dark. My chick used the same brand of dye she always does and everything seemed okay.

Then a few days later I noticed this weird thing on my forehead right by my hairline. It looked like a skin-colored scrape about 1/3 of an inch in diameter. As I was looking at it thinking, “Please God–no skin cancer. I know I tanned my ridiculously white skin a lot when growing up, but I haven’t had a tan in 20 years. Please spare me skin cancer…” I noticed all these black dots on my scalp. What the fuck? Hmmm…they didn’t look like the typical dye blotches that appear on my scalp after a hair color. These were tiny little specks like someone took a Sharpie and put dots on my noggin.

Well, whatever. I’ll just scrub my head harder next time I wash it to get the dye off.

Uhhh…the dots didn’t come off after the next shampoo. Or the next 5 shampoos.

Finally, after 3 weeks I’m like, “What in the ever-loving shit is on my fuckin’ head?” As we know, I’ve been dyeing my hair for 30 years. I’d never seen anything like it. So I had to investigate.

Can I just tell you…NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER Google something like “black spots on scalp.” NEVER! It’s horrifying.


When you Google “black spots on scalp” you learn that you’d be better off dead than with the host of things that come up as possible diseases or conditions.

Keep in mind that I typically stick to sites like WebMD or Mayo Clinic for medical advice as I feel they are likely a bit more accurate than, ‘Jodi’s dumb ass blog on weird stuff,” but even those scared the shit out of me.

Some of the suggestions were: Mold (WHAT THE FUCK???). Fungus (I WANT TO DIE). Ringworm (This is when the panic set in).

All of the sites also mentioned itching. My head didn’t itch before I read that. Now it was as if spiders were crawling around on my head. I know, totally psychosomatic, and I kept trying to rationalize it, but I was scared shitless, so a bit of irrational was starting to slip through.

Then Grant gets home and I tell him what’s going on. He grabs a flashlight and tells me I have black dots ALL OVER MY HEAD!!! I thought it was just that one small spot, but nope. They are EVERYFUCKINGWHERE! Oh, the horror!

So, I immediately got on the phone to schedule an appointment with a dermatologist. If I fucking have any of those things I wanted it diagnosed immediately and then I wanted someone to decapitate me.

Of course, out of the 6 I called, 3 didn’t answer the phone (I’m thinking their businesses are covers for drug running, otherwise how do they stay in business?), 2 sent me to voicemail (how can they close on a Tuesday before 4 pm? Must be nice…) and the last one kept me on hold for, and I kid you not, 15 minutes. 4 times people picked up the line and I’d repeat, “Hi, I’m calling to make an appointment as a new patient,” and they’d always say, “Just a minute,” and I’d wait 5 more. I wanted to smash something violently. First off, what shitty customer service. Secondly, I’VE GOT MOTHERFUCKING FUNGUS, MOLD OR WORMS ON MY MOTHERFUCKING HEAD. SOMEONE NEEDS TO HELP ME BEFORE I PASS OUT FROM HORROR!!!

And of course in the meanwhile I’m terrified to touch my head, lean it onto a pillow, let my husband anywhere near me. I made him throw away his brush cause I’d used it earlier in the day. He tried to hug me and I yelped, “NO! You’ll get the Mange!”

Finally, the idiots at the dermatologist’s office get back on the phone and they can’t see me for a week.

Ummmm…no. That’s too long. I’ll run into traffic by then. I’ll shave my head. I’ll die of terror and fear!

So, I make the appointment anyway and then rush out of the house to go to Urgent Care. By now it’s after 5pm and no doctor in the state is open except Urgent Care. And I was sincerely starting to have a panic attack at the idea of a foreign body making its home in my head. God bless Valium.

When I get to the first one, I open the door to what I can only assume was an outbreak of The Plague. So I said, “Uh, fuck this,” and left and went to another one where everyone looked like they were suffering from Ebola. Damn flu season. So, fuck that one too. I just went home and wouldn’t let anyone or anything near me until I could get in to see someone in the morning.

Finally, morning comes ’round (after a lovely night chocked full of wormy, fungus-filled dreams) and I get an appointment to see a doc.

I go there at 10:30 and they are so nice and lovely. The doc comes in and I explain what’s going on.

She looks at my head and says, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Great. I’m a medical mystery full of fungus and mold and worms and God knows what.

Then she plays a bit with my noggin and determines that the dye (which is some stubborn-ass dye) had grabbed hold of all the new baby hairs growing out of my scalp and gotten kind of stuck at the follicle (if you’ll recall I mentioned earlier in the year that I had a bunch of hair loss due to thyroid and iron/protein deficiencies). The hair was just a tiny bit of a millimeter long and hardly even out of my scalp yet, so the dye clung to those tiny pieces of hair and went down a bit into the skin. This was why it wasn’t easily washing off in the shower.

Can I tell you that I have rarely been more relieved in my entire life? EVER! I wanted to hump her in thanks for her awesome diagnosis.

She said she could see why I’d have been terrified, but that I’m good to go and that she wished all her appointments ended on such a happy note.


What an absolute cluster-fuck. I had told Grant that I just could not take one more medical issue and was going to snap from the stress. Luckily, I have a wonderful hubby who was supportive even when we did think I had The Funk. Thank God it was just some weird dyeing anomaly and I am worm-mold-fungus free! Yay!!!!

So, that’s my saga. I’m just happy that my noggin is good to go. I’m quite certain I couldn’t have handled any other outcome because they were just too damn gross!

Have a happy weekend, my friends! XOXOXXOXO