Melissa Gorga’s book “Love Italian Style: The Secrets of My Hot and Happy Marriage” was released on Tuesday and I decided that I should see what kind of advice she was offering. I’ve been married for about 100 years, but what pair of old dogs doesn’t want to pick up some new tricks? The tips she gives are really quite simple, and, apparently, my husband and I have been doing everything all wrong. Who knew? It’s all about being hot and sexy. No matter what’s going on, no matter how big the problem, you can fix it or make it all better with flirting, dressing up in costumes and having sex 3 to 5 times a week, but for no longer than 7 to 10 minutes. A wife will be treated like a Queen if her husband is treated like a King. I’m an Empress, so I hope this stuff works.
I went to work to test a few of her pointers, you know, to see if I could bring the same kind of fresh, spicy stuff Melissa lavishes on her own lord of the manor, Joe. She says that a good wife will have dinner on the table, and even if she doesn’t actually cook it, it’s still shows how much she appreciates her man. According to Melissa, you can open a box of Chinese takeout and you’ll have a happy husband. It’s the thought that counts. The no cooking part sounded good, so I opened the freezer, slapped a bag of Bertolli’s sausage and rigatoni on the table, and hollered that dinner was served. When my husband came to the kitchen, he asked me if this was a joke. “Why, no”, I said. “That’s dinner. I hauled it out of the freezer just for you. And look, there’s a glass of ice right next to the bag. Bon appetit, honey.” He wasn’t amused. In fact, he looked at me like I’d lost my mind, and, besides, he was still hungry. Okay, scratch that – epic fail. I ordered out anyway.
It was time to move on to another bit of Melissa’s advice and into another room. The costumes sounded like fun, so I dug around in my dresser and found a few items my husband might find interesting. Donning my Eeyore shorts, my favorite cowboy boots and an apron, I sashayed over to the man cave, certain I’d get his undivided attention. I’d already checked myself out in the mirror and declared me and my outfit absolutely adorable. I don’t know what he was watching on the television, probably something where folks were wearing camo, but I wasn’t going to let anything interfere with my plans, so I assumed my best come-hither look and strutted my stuff right in front of the screen. It got his attention, all right. He took one good, long look, sighed and asked me if I’d been drinking. “Nope”, I told him. “Perfectly sober, just wanted to try out some new moves, my dear.” Then he asked me where I’d come up with the new moves. Now, I really didn’t want to tell him where I was getting my ideas from because he’d think I was losing it, for sure, but I had to give credit where credit was due so I told him. “I was reading excerpts from Melissa Gorga’s book. You know, one of the New Jersey housewives.” He said “Well, that explains a lot. Is that why dinner was still frozen?”
Since I was all dressed up, anyway, I didn’t want to give up quite yet. There had to be something to what Melissa was talking about. I know she has some experience with dancing, and I thought, “What the hell. I’ll try something he’s never seen before.” With that in mind, I did my very best impression of Miley Cyrus, without the giant foam finger, of course. I didn’t want to give him a stroke, for goodness sake. I am here – barely – to tell you that twerking hurts – a lot, especially when you have arthritis and a bad back. The cowboy boots didn’t help either. I toppled over, the dogs were barking and running around, and my husband was laughing so hard that he nearly fell over. Not quite the scenario I had oh so carefully planned. I’m still nursing my back with a heating pad and a giant bottle of Tylenol. Damn you and your stupid costumes, Melissa Gorga!
I don’t know what to tell you, other than I didn’t read the whole book, so I might have missed a few things. I read the first chapter, and it sounded even worse than Fifty Shades. There’s only so much I’m willing to do for the sake of this blog and slogging through her book just isn’t going to happen. I did find a couple of interviews where she and King Joey offered up a few more pointers – and where I found out that they limit their sexual activity to under 10 minutes per session. Pretty efficient, if you ask me. I’ll leave you with a few quotes from their TV appearances and magazine articles. Maybe there’s something there you can use.
From the mouth and keyboard of Melissa: “Men are very visual. They see with their eyes. You need to shave your pits and your legs”. Why yes, they do and yes, we will. Promise.
And then there’s this: “Sex is the glue of the marriage.”
“It fills the little cracks that hold you together. Otherwise, those tiny cracks can turn into huge splits. It’s the best way to put an argument to rest. You both lay down your weapons and declare yourself victorious. It’s how we bond emotionally.” Sex is like Gorilla Glue and Bondo. Fix the cracks. Got it. Just drop your weapons and nobody gets hurt. Winner takes all.
And a contribution from Joe: “Respect one another. Keep it fresh. It’s not always that the woman has to do this and that for the man—the man has to do the same thing! I look at my wife every day and tell her how gorgeous she is, how beautiful, everything. I make her feel like a woman. Don’t get me wrong: We do have our arguments because we’re normal. But 98 percent of the time, I’m a man, and a man treats his woman like a queen.” I really love that – the 98% of the time he’s a man part. I’d hate to know what he is during the other 2%.
I did forget to mention one thing Melissa wrote. Women don’t poop. See – you learn something new every day.