by a bride-to-be
originally published on ylcf.org

“An angel in the home and a devil in bed!” When I read that phrase as a teenager, it stuck with me. It was a clergyman’s description of the ideal wife, the “perfect mate for any man,” according to Charlie Shedd in Letters to Karen.

I thought it sounded ideal. I liked to be a bit wild and crazy, and I loved shopping for pretty underwear. I knew I could embrace such a philosophy of marriage. As I grew older and more observant, however, I began to think most Christian wives embodied the opposite description. But then, how would I know. Single girls are always discussing their vast (lack of) knowledge with each other. But married women never talk about sex (except to complain). So who could blame me for assuming married people get bored and stop having sex after two children?

I’m no longer a teenager filled with idle curiosity. The engagement ring on my finger gives me reason to learn what I need to know. But more importantly, what I don’t need to know. Everyone seems to be giving me advice, most especially the people I didn’t ask. Based on what I’m hearing, one would conclude it was impossible to enjoy married life before 1977, when Ed Wheat’s book Intended for Pleasure was published.

But apparently his wasn’t the first attempt to reduce sex to mere technique. In 1929, E.B. White and James Thurber wrote:

The country is flooded with books. To prepare for marriage, young girls no longer assemble a hope chest—they read books on abnormal psychology. If they do finally marry, they find themselves with a large number of sex books on hand, but almost no pretty underwear. Most of them, luckily, never marry at all—just continue to read.

Now if lingerie was necessary for great sex, God would have done some shopping for Eve. They didn’t even wear leaves in the Garden, and God said it was good. But ever since the Fall, we’ve known to cover our nakedness. And being covered makes what is underneath enticing. That’s why we wrap presents. And that’s why my hope chest contains some lace and satin that’s not big enough for a table cloth. (As one happily married man informed me, “The less material, the better!”)

As to the sex books, we’re skipping those for now. I’m relying on a recently married friend for the tips I really need to know before the honeymoon. I figure that technique comes with practice, in sex just like in everything else. No matter how much we read, it won’t be perfect the first time. So in these months of my engagement I’d rather read more about perspective than performance.

There are plenty of books on marriage by women. But I figured the best books on how to be a good wife are probably written by the men who live with them. In Charlie Shedd’s book Letters to Karen, a compilation of letters to his daughter, I’m finding practical advice mixed with wisdom and perspective:

The female of our species was created with seductive powers which have been debauched by sinners and maligned by moralist through the years. But do you suppose the world simply hasn’t grown up to this truth—maybe women were made that way because that’s how they are needed at the right time and in the right place? …The best protection I know against loose sex is a wife who knows the glories of womanhood and uses her natural charms to the maximum.

I’ve grown up hearing women complain about how often their husband wants sex. They also complain when he ends up with his secretary. And the wife who nags and refuses him sex still wonders why he chose the secretary who flirts and strokes his ego. I’ve decided I’d rather keep my husband eager to come home at the end of the day. Even if some nights I receive no more pleasure than that of being in his arms (which will be no small pleasure, I am sure).

I want to be that angel of a housewife. I want to cook his meals and raise his children. I don’t want to ever be guilty of complaining about my husband. I want to show him honor in every word I say. And I want to be that devil in bed. I want him to feel happy and content in every room of the house, but most especially in our bedroom.

I get married three months from now. I suppose I’ll find out how realistic my idealism is. But I plan to keep my husband so happy at home that he will never have a thought of looking for it anywhere else. And I’m already filling my suitcase with that pretty underwear.

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