Many of us had parents with real love stories. Our mothers worked and waited while our fathers were in the service. My parents wrote daily letters to each other for the four years my dad was stationed at a base and then sent overseas. They teased, flirted, and planned for the future. And when the men returned from war, they resumed being husbands, fathers, and breadwinners.

 

They did not sit in front of a computer and masturbate their brains out. They may have had Playboy, which Hugh Hefner started in 1953, and they appreciated curves Marilyn Monroes of course, Ava Gardners, and Nellies in South Pacific but they didnt have the time or privacy to spend on porn.

 

Coming of age in the 1960s and 1970s during the sexual revolution and free love, we had different courtships than our parents. Thanks to the pill, we had multiple partners. No one was romantic. But everyone said I love you, and then moved on. Still, when we married we thought it might be forever and that growing old with our partner would be kind of like tripping without the chemicals.

 

Porn was prevalent, but it was on paper. I didnt like it, so I took the liberty of throwing it out when I found my husbands stashes. He just bought more and hid it better. Still, I didnt have to wonder where he was when we made love. He seemed to know who I was in bed until he began spending more time with his computer than with me. By the time we had to sleep in separate beds because of his snoring and my migraines, he no longer bothered with cuddling or even conversation in our big bed before taking off for his snoring room. What loyalty did he have for a wife when he could have any woman he wanted on the Internet?

 

Refrence : Thirdage