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Jeff and Judy
Secrets of a Marriage
One of the hazards I face writing a weekly newspaper column called “Frisky after Sixty” in closest collaboration with my husband is that if I want to be truly honest and open with our readers – and I do – I’m forced to give away vital information other wives go to great lengths to keep from their partners.
Nothing sinister mind you, but little personal things that, for want of a better term, I’ll call “trade secrets.”
After-all when you are playing for high-stakes at a poker table in Las Vegas, as Jeff and I have done often, you never show your hand until and unless absolutely necessary.
But writing publicly about a 38-year conjugal relationship in a popular newspaper is about as unlike playing poker as anything I can imagine.
So here goes with a previously-classified nugget I’d been keeping to myself but which, in the interests of professional journalism, I am now about to reveal to the world.
And, sorry, but before I do I’m obliged to remind you I accept no liability whatsoever if my admittedly often-devious sorcery does not work for you.
Today I’ll tell you how I get Jeff’s undivided attention when he is sprawled on the sofa – you may recognise the position – fully-absorbed watching sport (it doesn’t matter which) on TV.
And I’d rather have him all to myself almost anywhere else.
Now one of Jeff’s nicest features is that he likes to know where I am and what I’m doing. Even around the house. He calls-out “Judy” with clockwork regularity and when I respond reassuringly he’s quiet again for another 10 minutes.
So, as he watches Manchester Rovers battling FC Montevideo I enter that severe pampering zone we all know where I first relax under a perfectly refreshing shower before taking time to make myself perfectly loveable.
Throughout, I hear Jeff calling my name. And of course I don’t answer. He may call “Judy” three times and not worry in the slightest but around the fifth I hear a mounting anxiety.
The next calls get increasingly tenser until unable to restrain himself any longer he prises himself from the TV and comes looking for me.
And as if by magic he always finds me preened, primped and proper in bed reading something especially insignificant, like “People” magazine. Which I willingly toss aside.
And remind him later to check the scores if the Cosmonauts beat the Argonauts?
Just who are Jeff and Judy? Judy and Jeff Sellers are a US couple who love sunsets, world travel, fine wines, good food and each other. As often as possible and not necessarily in that order. They currently seek a congenial publisher for their "Frisky after Sixty" book ('A Good in Bed Read') and after many requests from friends all over the world waiting impatiently for their local newspapers to carry this column. To find out more go to Frisky After Sixty.
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