One evening last week my wife and I were getting into bed. Once I had tactfully reminded her that it was the third Saturday in a month with an 'R' in it, the plucky little woman lost no time is assuming the 'position' familiar to millions of British wives who endure the unpleasantness of conjugal relations five times a year (six, in a leap year). Naturally the lights were off and the curtains drawn. We're not Americans, after all.

Well, the passion started to heat up until she eventually said, "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me."
I said "WHAT?!"
So she said the words that every husband on the planet dreads to hear: "You're not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."
She responded to my puzzled look by saying: "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"
When I attempted to revive her flagging ardour by reminding her what I had seen her doing in the bathroom with our daughter's electric toothbrush only last week, she peremptorily slapped my hand away and snapped: "That's different. A toothbrush doesn't fall asleep afterwards or mess up my hair."

Realising that nothing was going to happen that night I went to sleep.
The very next day I opted to take the day off work to spend time with her.
We went out for a nice lunch and then went to shop at Harrods. I walked around with her while she tried on several different, very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take so I told her that we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to complement her new clothes, so I said, "let's get a pair for each outfit, my angel." We then went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you, she was so excited. She must have thought I was several sandwiches short of a full lunchbox. I started to think that she was testing me because she asked for a massager in the Personal Care department when she doesn't even have arthiritis.

I think that I amazed her when I said, "That's fine dear. Why not buy one of those vibrating rocking horses too?"
I swear she was so excited that she was almost coming in the designer thong I'd bought her. Flushed with pre-orgasmic joy and just a teeny bit moist, she finally gushed: "I think that's all darling, let's go to the cashier."
I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No, I don't feel like it."
Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled "WHAT?!"

"I don't feel like it," I repeated sweetly. "I just want you to HOLD the stuff for a while. You're not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." When her expression had darkened sufficiently to warn me that she was about to kill me, I added smoothly: "Why can't you love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"

Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either as I heard an electric toothbrush whirring in the bathroom on my way to fetch fresh a sock from the bedroom.