Naked Husbands: The Untold Story

Like the apparently brainless woman who willingly had sex with Dustin Hoffman in his hotel room years ago but is now saying, when asked if the sex was consensual, "I don't know," I can't be silent any longer. My story is similar except the man in question isn't famous, although I did meet Hoffman when he was just starting out and he never did anything weirder than insisting, "Call me Dusty." (I hated it, but I complied.)

Thirty-one years ago I married, and since then have shared my bed with a man who sleeps totally nude right next to me! I find this offensive since I wear pajamas, and in winter, socks and gloves and maybe a neck scarf. (I have even been know to pull on a woolen cap on particularly frigid nights.) Still, Mitch is right next to me with nary a stitch on. This irks me because I know what it means: He is trying to get me to have sex with him. Oh sure, he pretends to be sleeping by snoring intermittently, but still, he is naked. And sometimes without even a blanket over him. What am I, an idiot?

Okay, sure, I have had sex with him, probably several thousands of times. But were all those times consensual? I can honestly say "I don't know!" And did he ever take advantage of me when I was in a weakened state? Well, since after one glass of wine I am no longer capable of good judgement I'd have to say yes, and certainly on every New Year's Eve after I've had some champagne, which everyone knows makes you drunker. (Scientists have declared since the 1920s that bubbles intoxicate you faster than a flat beverage does.)

Wait, there's more. Like this morning, Mitch was "reading the paper" in his bathrobe and it fell open and revealed that he had nothing on underneath. (Again with the nakedness!) He exposed himself to me while I, fully clothed, was eating my heart-healthy breakfast of whole wheat toast, a scrambled egg and a serving of blueberries. (Studies have shown that eating more than three servings of blueberries a week lowers the risk of heart attack in women by 32%.) Yet there he was, supposedly educating himself about net neutrality, and all the while I could distinctly see his entire penis!

When I pointed it out he quickly covered himself, coming up with some cockamamie story about going in the hot tub, which was ridiculous since it's zero degrees outside this morning. (To spite me he actually did go in the hot tub and of course did so completely naked, his favorite thing, whereas I always wear a bathing suit. After all, we do have neighbors.)

I have tolerated this behavior because Mitch has many fine qualities, and also he earns all the money in our family, which kind of makes me a victim of sexual exploitation. So, in the interest of helping other women who may be similarly trapped, I feel it only right to share my story. It's time for every wife to rise up and say in unison, "Put some clothes on, honey!"