Don’t ever be that “separate bedrooms” guy.

I heard on the news (so take it addito salis grano) this morning that the awesome Robin Williams killed himself, in his bedroom, which is separate from this wife’s bedroom. That’s also the reason that she didn’t find him, because she left the house, while thinking she was letting him sleep.

My message for you LTR / married men today is: DO NOT, EVER, BE THAT GUY IN THAT SEPARATE BEDROOM.

I can’t imagine anything more depressing in an LTR / marriage than sleeping in the same house, but separated from your SO… I would imagine it to be much, much more depressing than, say, having one dead, but still shared, bedroom (although that is pretty fucked-up as well). It’s the worst form of being friend-zoned, and by your SO to boot. That SO, who you once loved and very probably still love, and who hopefully still loves you, sleeping only 5 or 10 metres down the hall… Her door locked… Quite possibly pleasing herself with her collection of sex toys… You, in your room, masturbating out of pure and utter desperation…

DO NOT, EVER, BE THAT GUY IN THAT SEPARATE BEDROOM.

I’m lucky. I have a wife who can’t wait to have her pussy filled with my love rod. Who loves everything that comes with it, the massages, the stroking, the firm slaps on her arse, the gentle, slowly in-and-out but also the roughest, deepest poundings, the sweetest kisses but also me biting her lips hard, our tongues investigating each other’s mouths, me sucking her breasts and clit, her sucking my cock, everything…

I’m a lucky man.

But, I, we, cannot, can never ever be complacent. We need to keep a close watch on our dynamics, on how things are going, and – more importantly – how things keep progressing. We’re 49 and 40, but our love life is evolving, increasing in frequency and duration and intensity and satisfaction and level of pure pleasure. I keep on looking into new ways of giving her more intense, more out-of-body-experience kinds of orgasms. Keep progressing. Don’t stop moving forward.

If your SO ever, ever comes up with the wretched idea of separate bedrooms, nip it in the bud (or nip her in the butt) immediately. It’s sooo not going to happen. If she’s forever unwilling to change her mind, kick her out. “You want separation baby? Separate we shall be! Just not in the same house. Get your fucking stuff and get the fuck out of my house. Now, where’s my phone, there’s some young ladies I need to call…”

DO NOT, EVER, BE THAT GUY IN THAT SEPARATE BEDROOM.

R.I.P. Robin Williams. You died friggin’ alone, in your separate bedroom… Thank you for all the joy you brought us.