The Sweet Smell of Success?

The Sweet Smell of Success?

a blog by Liz

Back in the day, the cliché was that our men folk were ready for sex morning, night and frequently noon.

There is no doubt, however, that their ardour becomes somewhat diminished when sex becomes less about ripping one’s clothes off and more about body temperature, time of the month and cervical mucus. Let’s face it, the phrase, “Hurry up, I’m ovulating” has less of an arousing effect than, “Oh honey, we can’t, not here.”

When we got married, I had a plan. For prior 7 years I had worn the same perfume. Nice perfume. I liked it, he liked it. I didn’t wear it all the time, but when I did he always commented – unprompted and everything. He, the husband, has an excellent sense of smell. He's always going on about the evocative smell of his childhood, i.e., the sweet smell of chicken muck being spread across the fields evokes for him the rural town he grew up in (mind you, he moved out as soon as he could).

So when we got married, I had a cunning plan. I would buy a new, different type of perfume. One that I would drench myself in on our wedding day, wear continuously during our honeymoon and then, squirrel it away for ‘special occasions.’

The idea being that it would act like a trigger. The smell would reawaken the passion and excitement of our wedding day and honeymoon and it would act like an aphrodisiac to end all aphrodisiacs.

Only it didn’t work like that. For a start, we both got so drunk at our wedding (and after-parties) it took a couple of days to consummate the marriage (why am I telling you this?) And every single, sparing, time I have worn the perfume since he has said the same thing:

“Mmm. Your perfume smells nice. Is it new?”

No, it is not bloody new! It has been deliberately sprayed about my person to encourage you to turn into a rampant Romeo who will have his wicked way with me because I am ripe for the plucking, baby.

He then, invariably, rolls over and starts snoring.

Humpf.

Have any of you figured out foolproof ways to get your partner to jump your bones 'round ovulation time without him suspecting your motive is something other than pure, unbridled lust?