Just don't start pining for the fjord of my ass while we are in combat!

During the course of her longish life my wife of five years has been on the receiving end of a variety of unsolicited sexual attentions, ranging all the way to outright assault back when she was a tender teen, but in the four decades I’ve been observing her, she has always turned unwanted advances aside with ease. Years ago I was close at hand, though not actually present, for a couple of instances in which she deflected an unwanted suitor with a few deft slashes at the ego. Throughout her career as an itinerant musician she traveled and worked with horny guitarists, bassists and drummers who’d as soon have fucked her as looked at her. She let ‘em know that wasn’t going to happen unless one or another of them happened to catch her fancy, and contrived to maintain working relationships even while they looked yearningly at her naughty bits.

Greg was a Marine, of course, and I never got closer to a recruiting office than the distance required to hurl an incendiary at it*, but it’s hard for me to believe that the frail flowers at today’s USMC would be so rattled at the suggestion of the Love That Dare(d) Not Speak Its Name that they’d get all anxious and insecure. You’d think that a bunch of heavily-armed troops could face the occasional overture, even in the theatre of battle, with as least as much equanimity as my spouse brought to bear earlier in her career.

cordially,

*The blue light of course indicates that a joke was intended.