Married Men Make the Best Lovers

This book is gratefully dedicated to all the wives who made it possible

and to Ned Hanlon, my first and best ML

CHAPTER ONE

WHY YOUR LOVER SHOULD BE MARRIED

The swan is a graceful, beautiful creature which can be found in various parts of the world and which is highly treasured for its decorative effect on lakes and ponds. It is a migratory water fowl. It is also monogamous. It is one of those freaks of nature which chooses one mate and keeps it for life. Nobody has ever heard of a swan husband messing around with an unattached lady–at least, not since Zeus be-swanned himself and seduced the lovely Leda. It is therefore quite apparent that the swan in no way resembles Man. The fascinating genus and phylum to which we belong never has been, never will be, and never was meant to be monogamous. Which condition has made me what I am today. And yes, I’m satisfied.

You see, I am what is generally referred to with fear and loathing (by women) and rib-jabbing and chortling (by men) as the other woman. It is a role I chose with deliberation, forethought, and ease. And I find it so satisfying that I thought it high time to lift the veil of hypocrisy and doublethink and speak out on behalf of other-womanhood versus wifehood. Furthermore, aside from the fact that it is a most fulfilling life, I am fed to the teeth with the outmoded image of the other woman. The stereotype, established several generations ago, is as outlandish today as hoop skirts. The picture of the fallen woman (She didn’t fall. She wasn’t even pushed. She just lay down, quite voluntarily.), the Theda Bara vamp who wreaks destruction with her immoral wiles (Some destruction! What man wouldn’t rather hanky with her panky than with that harried housewife at home?), or the cringing Back Street mistress who is nothing but a second wife to her wealthy patron is as ridiculous as the idea that all bachelors lead glamorous, exciting, bunny-filled lives. Arrant nonsense! Maybe in the old days, when men were men and women were double-breasted, and there were more of the former than the latter (Was there really ever such a time?), there was little excuse for a woman to actively seek the company of a married man. After all, in that social structure, unmarried (for a woman) was synonymous with virgin. And any young lady who didn’t stay in her stays was immediately run out of town attired in a chic array of tar and feathers, with a blazing scarlet A embroidered on her forehead. Of course, the gentleman with whom she dallied was viewed as the poor victim of her wanton ways, but that’s a different morality play entirely.

Nowadays, however, things are different, thank Freud! Virginity, once a prized possession, has become a distinct liability. Most girls over eighteen who are still possessed of an intact hymen are either on a psychiatrist’s couch or doing their damnedest to get onto the couch of some other sympathetic male. With good reason. Today’s young lady has become aware that sex is good for her, and I say good for her! Why shouldn’t she have as much good clean fun as her brothers? Oh, yes, I’m aware that there are still some inhibited chastity fanatics who have decided to hold out for marriage. But in general, today’s girl would be astonished at the idea of approaching a wedding night without trying out the merchandise first–if she has a wedding night to go to, which is precisely the point.

Unfortunately, at this juncture in history, and in our country in particular, there just aren’t enough marriageable men to go around. Does that mean a girl is supposed to spend her whole life in a manless hell, forever unattached and unlaid? Of course not! You’d have a tough time convincing a modern lady that before she beds a man some third party must first mumble some incomprehensible words at them. So the stalls are empty in the marriage market. Or she did it once and didn’t like it. Or maybe she’s a widow. Every woman who isn’t married has her own story, and there’s no need to go into the tearful details. Suffice it to say she’s unwed, and none of the men she knows are in the same boat. Does that mean she must do without a husband? Why in the world should she, when the world is virtually crawling with husbands? So what if they aren’t hers? Married men are the most exciting, wonderful, attractive, and accessible things that can happen to a single woman.

The advantages of having a married man of your own are so numerous, I find it incredible that some girls still shy away from them as though they were typhoid carriers. However, just in case you’re still hung up with the funny, old-fashioned idea that there’s something nasty about a married lover, let’s enumerate the benefits. (For the sake of brevity, from here on out the Other Woman will be referred to as the OW, while the Married Lover will be called ML).

Perhaps first we’d better define just who You are. We’re not, at this time, discussing the kept woman. There are, to be sure, certain advantages to being a mistress in the classic sense, but right now we’re talking about the non-financial relationship. You are the lady with a job, position, or profession which pleases you and pays the bills. You are a person in your own right, with good taste, nice clothes, and a happy place to live. You need a man for love, not to allay anxiety, or to eliminate social pressure. You need sex and companionship, not a washer and dryer. You are the head of your own household, and you don’t need a husband for anything but fun and games. So why should the husband be yours? With the right ML, you can play the ultimate role a bright girl can play: being a Total Woman for an adoring man.

Once launched on an OW career you will find it so satisfying, you’ll wonder how the institution of marriage ever got started. Of course, it’s best to let those terrified wives keep their little secret about us, or we wouldn’t have any nice husbands to play with. But we know that being an OW is completely fulfilling, the highly touted urge to spawn notwithstanding.

An OW doesn’t have a thing to do but love and be loved. No dirty shirts to pick up, no meals to plan and cook, no bawling little ones to interrupt the delicious nights. You are taken to the nicest places, not the least nice of which is bed. In short, you have all the goodies and none of the nasties. Your sole function is to be a woman, not a housekeeper or mother or laundress or any of the other sick-making things the Ladies Home Journal tries to sell as the good life. You can remain the sole owner of yourself ... a whole, total, independent human being. You’re smart, and attractive, and fun to be with, and you make the decisions. Why would you want to give that up to become Mrs. Anybody? For the right ML you can be Aphrodite incarnate. Your function is to keep his adrenalin running and his masculinity and virility constantly assured. He’ll never want you in an apron (unless it’s gold lame and you’re not wearing anything else). He’ll want you in softly lit saloons and salons, well-dressed and head-turning. For him you are all glamor, and there isn’t a wife in the world who wouldn’t trade her last rubber glove for that image! So let’s leave marriage to those incompetents who either can’t or are too lazy to take care of themselves and of necessity find some poor guy to leech a living out of. Be grateful there still are females like that. Somebody has to have the babies and join the PTA and wash our lipstick out of his shirts! But not me ... and not you, either.

And just think of the good you can do him! Let’s take the average man, married about ten years, father of two or three children. He and his wife may have been perfectly suited to each other and tremendously in love at the beginning. But by now, boredom has set in. They’ve grown at different rates, in different directions, and they are no longer the same two people who trod that aisle together. His wife has established a pattern of homemaking, child-raising and nest-building. In many cases, she has forgotten that sex is a continuing facet of life and feels now that the honeymoon is over and the offspring brought forth, she can forget it. She has accomplished what she set out to do, and the very nature of her daily life is a constant affirmation of her femaleness.

But what about him? The chances are, he hasn’t realized all the bright dreams of success he had at the outset. He’s become a little disillusioned with life in general and with himself in particular. And he has certainly given up the vision of undying love with which he entered marriage. "My wife (spoken with pride) has given way to the wife" (with a bored twist of the mouth). The lines of communication have broken down, and he and his wife have run out of conversation. He isn’t sure of who he is anymore, and he’s been emotionally emasculated. Problem: how to regain his manhood. Solution: You. Miss Wonderful, who thinks he’s terrific and who devotes herself entirely to him is the very shot in the ego he needs to renew his belief that he is a helluva man, after all.

He has become involved in so many areas, playing so many roles, he’s lost. He is Husband, Father, Lawyer, or Indian Chief, Club Member, Citizen, Boss, Employee. In short, he may wear twenty hats in the course of a day. But where is he known and appreciated only as Man? Just one place: in your arms. With you, he is completely relaxed, completely himself. You are the place he comes to ease the tensions and drop the inhibitions. With you he is the man he sees himself as: competent, sexy, and desired. And you want him not for what he does, but simply for what he is.

Compare the satisfaction of loving this man with messing with a bachelor. Your ML, aside from having professional success, also has domesticity anytime he wants it. The single man, on the other hand, is frequently insolvent and is constantly hungry for the home-cooked meal and the hand-washed sock.

If you’ve been going with him for any length of time, his idea of an exciting evening is to let you cook dinner for him and then settle down in front of your TV while you sew on the buttons his laundry tore off. This guy invariably winds up with all the advantages of marriage and none of the responsibilities. What’s worse, he keeps dangling the possibility of a wedding in front of your anxious nose, and you keep jumping for fear you’ll lose him before you get him.

And the competition! There are a half-dozen other chicks eying this clod. He causes you hours of torment,