The Unassailable Secret to Sexual Fulfillment - A Bit of Fun

Last night my wife and I were at a club, watching this stand-up comic. He was pretty good, and soon had the crowd giggling and laughing at his slightly sexual jokes. Then he held up both hands, commanded silence, and announced in a booming voice—to the men only, he said—that he was now going to reveal three little words that would lead to absolute marital harmony and mind-numbing sexual ecstasy. Well, yes, yes, yes, I had the usual self-enlightened interest in the former of these benefits, but I was really keen on the latter—so I was paying attention, let me tell you.

After he’d generated some guffaws and elbow-nudges from the men, the comic was ready for the moment. He paused for dramatic effect, held his hands high, palms towards the crowd in a quasi-evangelical salute. His eyes were closed reverentially as he boomed out: “Men ! If you want to really LIVE with your woman and get everything she has to give (wink-wink, nudge-nudge, say-no-more, say-no-more), never forget these three critical words--Women are RIGHT !

Well, you can imagine the reaction. Women shrieked, turned from their men to high-five other women at nearby tables, and whistled their approval to the comic. Men laughed out loud, sort of nervously, and looked over their shoulders to see how other men were reacting. A lot of guys headed for the bar to get drinks, like all of a sudden they needed to be in motion. After the initial explosion of laughter at the joke, I noticed that most of the women in the crowd were sitting cross-armed (women do not normally sit cross-armed) with straight-lipped unsmiling smiles on their faces, like they’d just been reminded of a self-evident Cosmic Truth that they’d momentarily (just momentarily) forgotten..

I had laughed at the joke too, right? And you’re at least smiling now, right?. All this ho-ho, hee-hee springs from the fact that the proposition is absurd, right? We laugh at absurdity, at incongruity, at things placed in weird juxtapositions to other things . . . . right? Then there’s another possibility, the frightening possibility that the proposition is CORRECT!

I immediately shook my head to dismiss this idiotic conclusion, as though ideas were loose change that would fly off into the night if I shook hard enough. I glared at my wife’s rather nice profile. She was driving us home after the show, ‘cause I’d gulped down four daiquiris after The Joke and could barely see the dashboard, never mind the road. “Good joke, eh?” I slurred cunningly.

“Which one, darling?” she replied serenely, that infuriating straight-lipped unsmiling smile back on her face (all women learn that smile in the womb. They practice while they gurgle around in the goop). Damn! My ploy hadn’t smoked her out!

“Y’know perfectly swell which joke, ”I retorted, “the one about women being right.” She threw me the kind of glance she might have thrown to a mentally challenged five year-old who had just said something quite clever. “Well, it was silly enough for a laugh,” --looks coyly over her slightly raised right shoulder—“but it is an excellent observation.”

“Aha! I’m on to you! You pretend it isn't true but you think it IS true so if you can convince me that you think its untrue you’ll be able to truly protect the truth for the True Sisterhood!” I was rigid with indignation; only my seatbelt and the fact that my wife had accelerated to 130 km on the freeway, restrained me from rushing into the street to cry out a warning to All Men of the plot that surrounded them.

I got home, slept, ate a hangover breakfast (which just made me more hungry), and began my research. If I was correct—if women were truly always right—that huge insight could be harnessed for the betterment of Mankind! More to the point, it could bring me fame. . .and lots of money. The True Sisterhood would pay a small fortune to keep me quiet, and men would pay more for the means to use the secret to their marital advantage. I began quietly: “Sweetheart, remember when you forgot to get milk yesterday?” “Oh,” she replied absently, paying little attention, “you mean when you distracted me in the dairy section with the question about the screwdriver?” Point: my fault, not hers. Later, in a conversation, she said that the Wilsons lived on Larch Street. I corrected that they lived on 33rd Avenue (get out of this one, I cackled inwardly). “Ah yes,” she said, gazing on me fondly, “it was you who lived on Larch as a child. I’m always thinking of you, Dear.” Point: my fault for being the object of her affections. Watching the news that evening, I declared, “that damn war in Afghanistan is unwinnable.” My wife looked over her glasses at me and admonished, “Well Dear, if we all had more faith in our foreign policy and more confidence in our armed forces, you wouldn't have to show that kind of frustration.” Point: my criticism was losing the war for us. It went on and on. I caught her red-handed in every kind of error imaginable, but it did not matter—she was always blameless. I was always at fault.

I abandoned my former thoughts of fame and fortune. Inevitably, my research was going to be anecdotal, so I concluded that I had to share my theory with my male friends and get their input. I met with six of them at the local watering hole; over beer I asked questions and kept notes. My buddies recited incident after incident with their wives—same results, without exception. Jim told about a major essay his wife failed at college. She convinced her prof that the essay question was off-topic, unfair, and beyond her level of ability. He ended up apologizing to her. I pleaded with them to come up with just one little instance where their wives had admitted they were wrong, in anything, anything at all. Nothing. Nada. Nyet. Zilch.

“So what do we do”? wailed Jim, six beers into sloppy despair. George, the real thinker in the group (and only three beers into it) chimed in, “remember King Canute, who was supremely pissed at Poseidon, god of the sea, for drowning his son?” We all blearily admitted some vague memory of the story. “Well, to punish Poseidon, the good king took a bullwhip and whipped the waves.” One of the other guys sagely ventured, ”ahh, I don’t think that would do a whole lot of good, would it now?” George looked at this intellectual giant and replied, “about as much good as us trying to do something about being the only guys on the planet who have actually figured out that women really are right. Every time.”

We lamented our way through a few more beers and orders of monster burgers. . .and then it hit me. “Of course! George, you are indeed the resident genius!” I quickly explained: we were agreed that women learn their strategies in the womb, hone them with their mothers, practice on their brothers and male teachers, and bring them into full-blown implementation with their husbands. In Judo, you learn to use your opponent’s weight and momentum to your advantage—it’s the flow from him (her!) to you that helps you win.

The key to victory, I positively crowed, lies in giving up! My buddies (including George) were sitting around the table, mouths agape, some with unsightly strands of drool hanging from their doltish maws, not getting it at all. “Look, dumbheads,” I yelled at them: “they know that theyr’e right even when they’re wrong because we keep telling them they’re wrong when they’re right so they have to right that wrong by arguing that they’re right, right?” More agaping. More drool. Some cunning squints added. I spoke to the squints: “Because our women are programmed from the womb to insist on being right, the more we argue with them, the tenser they get. Now, think hard, are tense women interested in sex?”

George—God bless George—suddenly cried, “Argh! You mean my depleted sex life is my fault!” I looked at him smugly, “100%, Baby, 100%. Chant the mantra, “Women are Right”, live it, believe it, her stress will disappear, and she’ll open like a flower.”

We all then went home to practice. When we met at the watering hole three days later, there were nothing but smiles—very big smiles—around the table. And the women will never know we’re on to the secret. Damn ! Are we smart or what?

Comments 19 comments

Alexander Mark profile image

Alexander Mark 4 years ago from beautiful, rainy, green Portland, Oregon

You very cleverly told a truth beneath the truth people pretend to know, but you did have me in suspense until then! I laughed especially at how your wife was able to connect the dots to find the error in your thinking. Masterful!


cynthtggt profile image

cynthtggt 4 years ago from New York, NY

What? Is this a man's hub? Sorry, didn't mean to intrude. Well written, insightful, but it may not be the whole kit 'n kapoodle on the matter. I didn't like the joke -- but I'll leave all you guys alone now to believe what you want.


jonnycomelately profile image

jonnycomelately 4 years ago from Tasmania

Cynth, I think I understand what you are getting at. As a homosexual guy I find it difficult sometimes to "warm" to a gay joke, especially if it sounds a bit put-down.

Sex, and sexuality, is such a strong subject that I suppose we need to lighten it a bit with humour.

Sometimes I will go back immediately at the person who has told the joke I don't really like and confront him/her with my truth.

Other times I can laugh with them, and say to myself, "let it go, it's not going to hurt you."

Not trying to direct your opinion on this, just sharing my take on it.


cynthtggt profile image

cynthtggt 4 years ago from New York, NY

The same joke I heard on Comedy Central directed towards a heterosexual audience. I am not "hurt" by it at all. I only said I did not like the joke. I don't see any other women on this hub, so what's the diff?


moonfroth profile image

moonfroth 4 years ago from Rural BC (Canada) & N of Puerto Vallarta (Mexico) Author

Alexander--hey! good to hear from you again! And I'm glad you enjoyed my whimsical litle tale.

Cynth and Jonny--whoa! I think that you both, though from different angles, are finding some significance that I certainly did NOT intend. This tale is just a tiny chapter in the so-called "battle" of the sexes, the Men are from Mars Women are from Venus syndrome, if you will. Nothing more. I'm having a lot of trouble seeing anything "darker" in it.


Alexander Mark profile image

Alexander Mark 4 years ago from beautiful, rainy, green Portland, Oregon

Moonfroth, I just want to chime in here, I had no idea this was a homosexual joke, and I too don't see anything darker in it. It was funny and I hope some more people will wander over here and enjoy it and your writing style. You had me outright laughing - keep it up.


jonnycomelately profile image

jonnycomelately 4 years ago from Tasmania

Wow! Alex.... that's a new take on it! Must be the joke of the year.... just joking with you Mark... keep going mate, it is very good writing.


Alexander Mark profile image

Alexander Mark 4 years ago from beautiful, rainy, green Portland, Oregon

Jonny, I may have misinterpreted your comment, if so, my apologies.


lilyfly profile image

lilyfly 4 years ago from Wasilla, Alaska

What did you say Moon? No, really, I thought this wonderful, and since I've sworn off relationships altogether, I just kind of go...huh? I bought the beer today, for Memorial Day, and I told Cliffy, I wanna hear you say you love me. He said, I love ya honey, the check is in the mail, and that is about as close as I get to orgasm these days.

Nice tho, and well written,between bites of monster burgers and beer! I've been missing in action for awhile. I loved it, voted up, and wish you many more enjoyable umm... interpretations of the truth! Love yaz, lily


jonnycomelately profile image

jonnycomelately 4 years ago from Tasmania

The worst jokes I have ever told are the ones where the audience suddenly goes silent, and no one even giggles! Then I cringe and think what a s..t I am! Must choose my audience better. But ultimately I forgive myself and get on with it.

This comment is not directed at anyone, Moon, just sharing it because in itself it's pretty funny - and good to share.


moonfroth profile image

moonfroth 4 years ago from Rural BC (Canada) & N of Puerto Vallarta (Mexico) Author

I tell you all--I'm going to delete this stupid, idle little bit of FLUFF--which has somehow managed to confuse a highly intelligent group of commenters and generate more angst than if I'd magically cracked some ancient mystery of the tombs! Jeesh!


lilyfly profile image

lilyfly 4 years ago from Wasilla, Alaska

Moon, Moon Moon! No! Do Not. I have no idea why Johnny and some straight guy are duking it out, but I really did get it, O.K.? Keep it as a token to how WRONG MEN ARE!!!!!! hahahaha! Love yaz, lily


jonnycomelately profile image

jonnycomelately 4 years ago from Tasmania

Lilyfly, Moon, no, no, I am not duking it out... no way. I respect you too much for that. Sorry that the words I have chosen here have caused the misunderstanding. Moon, don't feel you have done anything amiss here. Let your Hub stand as it is. Maybe you should delete my comments so they no longer cause confusion... maybe I talk too much.


Alexander Mark profile image

Alexander Mark 4 years ago from beautiful, rainy, green Portland, Oregon

lilyfly is right, don't unpublish! And if you must delete something and follow jonny's recommendation, do mine too. The hub is great - let it stand. Peace!


moonfroth profile image

moonfroth 4 years ago from Rural BC (Canada) & N of Puerto Vallarta (Mexico) Author

Awright! Awright already! I'll leave it--and lily, of course the Hub is a testament to how wrong men are, as the corollary to the proclamation Women are Right!


jacharless profile image

jacharless 4 years ago from Between New York and London

I cannot stop laughing!!! Brilliant, just brilliant. Now, am off for a few pints, myself and going to try this experimental emphatic-suggestion. {mentally reciting the Mantra...} ~James


moonfroth profile image

moonfroth 4 years ago from Rural BC (Canada) & N of Puerto Vallarta (Mexico) Author

Jach -- Aha! You obviously see the practical value of the mantra! Good luck!


savvydating profile image

savvydating 3 years ago

Lol. I can picture the arched eyebrows of every wife and girlfriend in the comedy club. Next I see the stunned faces of the men who weren't sure what him them and how. I hear the confused laughter, and even feel the devastation of every male. (Ok, maybe I don't feel what they feel, but I can imagine the slackened jaws and vacant eyes of the poor fellows who bolted to the bar)

Because you write so descriptively, moonfroth, I can picture the whole hilarious scene. Now, as for whether women automatically learn things from the womb? Well, of course we do... it practically goes without saying :)


moonfroth 3 years ago

Aha Savvy! You are a woman who can detect a guy stickin' it to the guys and having a bit of fun along the way. Thank you for having a sense of humour!

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