Can I be happily married and still want a side piece? How Ali Wong hits close to home in "Don Wong"

I love my spouse — he’s brilliant, funny, and sexy— and PM and I have a happy life that I have no desire to disrupt in any way, and yet…I’m going to say it...I still fantasize about having a side piece.

That’s right. I said it. *big exhale* In today’s post I’m going to talk about a subject that’s taboo for women, and in particular, for married women raising families. The desire for another sexual partner.

It’s a touchy topic. Society is disproportionately judgmental of women in monogamous relationships who express a desire to have sex with other people. We're supposed to be selfless caregivers, devoted to our families. But by pretending that men are fundamentally different from women when it comes to desire — that somehow, by virtue of their biology, men are the sole proprietors of lust — we‘re not only guilting and shaming women for something rooted in a very real human need, but we’re asking them to suppress a part of themselves that has the potential to light up 🔥 their monogamous relationship.

Last week I talked a little bit about Esther Perel’s book Mating in Captivity and her belief that the struggle in having a passionate marriage involves striking an uneasy balance between two equally powerful human needs, what she calls the domestic and the erotic. The domestic represents our basic need for security and dependability, a need that becomes particularly important once children have come into the picture. After all, it provides exactly what children need to thrive — a stable, loving home life. On the opposite side, in tension with the domestic, is the erotic, our basic need as humans for adventure, unpredictability, and risk. The erotic is that desire to experience a passionate madness for another person.

And while these are equally powerful human needs, they do not easily coexist but are rather at war with one another, and according to Perel, one will stamp out the other if a balance cannot be achieved. If I give in to the pull of the domestic, my marriage will be stable but passionless, sliding toward a marriage of convenience. But if I allow the erotic to dominate, my need for passion will drive me to look for it outside my marriage.

In sharing my thoughts about lust (in this case, my fantasy of a side piece), I want to talk little more about Ali Wong’s newest Netflix comedy special "Don Wong." As I said in last week’s post, in her latest special, she spoke to me.

Admittedly, PM is the connoisseur of standup comedy in our house. There is nary a comedy special that he has not seen or a book by a comedian he has not read. Maybe PM’s love of standup comedy reflects its similarity with his own profession. What are comedians, after all, but a sort of prophet, existing in that liminal space between their audience’s admiration and discomfort, casting light on things in society that we’d often rather pretend don’t exist.

I’m not qualified to write a comedy review, and this blog post is not that. I can’t even say I’m an avid fan of standup comedy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t notice when a comedian has done something truly special. And I believe Ali Wong has done just that. She has not only verbalized many of my own inner musings, but, in my opinion, she has touched an issue on the minds of a generation of women trying to have it all, and yet, even when they attain it, are still left feeling unsatisfied. And when Wong's feelings of frustration and desire are viewed through the lens of Perel's model of the domestic versus the erotic, I can begin to make sense of these feelings in myself.

In addressing issues of frustration and longing that married women, specifically mothers with successful careers, aren’t supposed to talk about, I believe that Wong has allowed a whole subset of women to truly be seen for who they are — complex individuals who can never entirely subsume themselves within the roles society has cast for them.

It’s true that comedy does so much more than just make us laugh, and even ancient Greek philosophers were discussing the role of comedy within a society. By talking about subjects we’re uncomfortable with, and even openly addressing taboo, comedy helps people process how they think and feel about certain things. Comedy creates a safe space to laugh about and criticize things we wouldn’t normally feel comfortable conversing about.

And in her latest comedy special, Ali Wong (now 39, married, with two children) asks the audience to see her, not as a successful comedian, a wife, or a mother, but as a human being with thoughts and desires that are often perceived as being at odds with her various roles. In doing so, she has validated other women‘s feelings and experiences. As I laughed along with her comedic revelations of her inner monologue, I had the opportunity to know that I am not alone.

I‘m not going to outline Wong's whole special here. I'll let you watch it for yourself. But two major themes weave through her special, her ambivalence toward monogamy and toward career. I want to focus here on her mixed feelings toward monogamy, as they were what resonated most with me as a woman who is also a wife and mother.

In her opening bit, Wong tells us she is bitter. She complains about the disparity between fan pussy and fan dick. For successful men in her field, fan pussy is not only readily available, but it’s young and hot. Fan dick, she tells us, on the other hand, is silence of the lambs’ shit.

Wong tells us that she finds this very upsetting, because she thinks about cheating on her husband every 5 minutes. She hasn't not done it…yet… she deadpans. But only “because no worthy opportunity has presented itself yet.” And it this topic of women’s lack of access to equal pleasure, along with the larger, related theme of monogamy, that truly drives her special.

She’ll return to this topic of unequal availability of sexual opportunities at several key points in her show. And while she's speaking from her own place of success in the comedy world when she talks about fan dick, I think unequal access to pleasure may, in fact, be a near universal experience for women across all socio-economic classes. Well, at least when it comes to married women with children who are approaching middle age, with Wong reminding us that there are “slim pickings” for divorced women. *sigh*

Wong complains about the fact that it’s 10 times harder to find a decent husband than it is to find a good wife. And as much as she might want to cheat on her husband, she realizes she needs him more than he needs her.

Ugh. She’s so right. I mean, look around. It’s a sick fact that men in our culture have access to a much, much larger pool of potential partners than women in the same age bracket. Hollywood’s relationships represent the extreme of this phenomenon with the likes of Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones (25-year age gap) or Mick Jagger and his partner (44-year age gap *gag*). Keanu Reeves is even praised for having an age-appropriate partner, as if it’s some unnatural feat… and yet she is still 10 years younger than him. I mean, what the actual fuck?

The reality is that if PM were suddenly single right now at 41, even with shared custody of three children, PM could likely find women interested in him who range in age from their 20s to their 50s. If I became single, how could I, a woman in her 40s with three children (and no career at present), possibly compete for the available decent men? I’ve been ranting about this for the last 2 years (probably since we turned 40, really). It’s colossally unfair.

I recently saw our family doctor with PM in tow, and I made a joke about PM’s recent weight loss and said that if it gets to the point where he can fit into my jeans, that’s it for us –– our marriage is over. Our doctor chuckled but then added a quip about the number of divorced, still single women he sees in his practice, and how I’m going to want to hang on to PM. *scowl*

It feels shitty to realize that if I wasn’t in a committed relationship right now, I’d be alone. It’s a blow to not only my pride, but my feelings of adequacy and desirability as a woman. And I think what underlies much of the frustration that Ali Wong expresses about monogamy is the very real human need to feel desirable. It’s Esther Perel’s erotic. At my very core, I need to believe that I can still inspire passionate madness in another person, and in turn, that I, too, can still be driven and consumed by madness.

Wong talks about how she had pressured her then boyfriend, now husband, to marry her. At the time, 7 years ago, her career prospects were uncertain, and so she felt that she needed to trap a man into marrying her. A sort of insurance plan, if you will.

And her wish came true, she tells us –– on top of a successful career, she got the husband, the house, two kids. And now she's asking herself, "Why did I do that?" Single people don't know how good they have it, she complains. They're free, and she's in "monogamy prison." And this life-sentence was totally doable, she quips, back when life expectancy used to be 40. But now, she laments, by the time you’re free again after your spouse dies, you've got about 10 years left to be free before you die, by which she means free to have sex with other people, but by then, you’ll be too old. And so, “I want to fuck other people now,” she tells the audience, before she's so old that she’s a shriveled up husk of a person.

I hear you, Ali. At 41, married with three children (and with no career to even allow me to become some young man’s Sugar Mama), I feel like by the time I’m free to experience an all-consuming lust with another person, I’ll no longer be an object that’s lusted after. Yup. By the time I’m free, no one will want me. Heck, I’m not even middle-aged yet, and I already feel like I’m no longer an object lusted after. Christ, that’s depressing. I’m bitter, too, Ali. I’m bitter, too.

Wong does a bit about when she was filming the movie Always Be My Maybe, and she had this steamy encounter with the food consultant on set. Or rather with a stacked 29-year old’s hard dick against her lower back while he leaned over her to show her how to chop chicken. And she did not feel violated, she tells us. In fact, as a 39-year-old woman with two C-section scars, she says, “I felt victorious.” After all, “The dick don't lie,” she jokes. She’s still got it.

And what more? Back at her hotel later, she was pleased to find signs of arousal in her panties. Not only did the presence of an excited cock at her back satisfy her need to feel desirable, but it validated her as a sexual being –– her body still responds to lust. She’s still got supply where there’s fresh demand.

In that “encounter” and its aftermath, if you will, she was reminded that she’s still a human being who desires and who is desirable. In contemplating this potential side piece and the feelings it evoked, she experienced her human need for the erotic satisfied.

I get it. I do. I have a deep-seated desire to be seen as a woman –– lusted after as a woman –– not simply needed as a parent or as a partner or as a breadwinner. Again, I see that tension between the erotic and the domestic here. I am happy and secure in my relationship with my spouse and with my family. But I have a fundamental need to be desired for who I am outside those roles.

And I want to feel, not just desired, but desirable. I don’t want to feel desired as a woman by my partner only when he feels the need for sex. In that case, I'm just functioning as another form of caregiver. Hence, I think for me, simply feeling desired or wanted is still too close to the domestic. After all, PM’s promised to be my life-partner, and sex with your spouse is what married folks are supposed to do. Having PM as my sexual partner is not an active choice; the choice was already made when we said, "I do."

And that sucks. Because I want to feel like I have options. I want to feel desirable. I want to feel like I have the ability to inspire passion in someone who doesn't need me around for childcare or emotional support or familial stability, lust in someone who isn’t obligated to be my sexual partner. I want to feel chosen.

And on top of that, I want to feel like I’m actively choosing my sexual partner. Or perhaps, even better, that I’m being pulled by a mad passion to that person. But it’s hard to feel like I’m really choosing my partner, if I don’t have other choices available. *sigh*

It's those feelings of obligation that we have as married partners, the anchoring influences of home and familial duty, that belong to the domain of the "domestic." And it is these relationship tethers, Perel tells us, that smother the "erotic," which celebrates spontaneous pleasure for pleasure's sake.

And I suppose, this is where the fantasy of the side piece comes in. Wong tells her audience that she wants it all. And, to her dismay, she’s discovered that having both a family and a career is not having it all. She wants a family, a career, and a side piece.

She’s acutely feeling those equally powerful, opposing human needs. The need to be rooted alongside wanderlust. The need for a home anchored in love and trust and stability, with an equal need for adventure with risk and unpredictable, all-consuming passion. Her need for the erotic fuels the fantasy of cheating, but the domestic tells her the risk is too great and pulls her back. And, after all, she tells us, cheating’s an awfully big risk for a woman to take when she’s not even guaranteed to get an orgasm out it. Ah, yes. There’s that, too. Geez, it sucks to be a woman.

At the very end of her special, Wong aptly articulates the contradiction that is a passionate marriage. She tells us her husband is smart, sexy, and interesting, but most importantly, he gives her permission to be herself. (For example, he doesn’t care that she jokes about wanting to cheat on him.) But when they argue and she raises her voice, he’s not afraid to put her in her place. His somber, “Oh, you don’t talk to me like that,” leads to her angry mutterings before she replies, “Oh, I’mma suck your dick.”

And so goes the balancing act. He puts her in her place, and then let’s her be herself, then tells her what to do, and then celebrates her. “And that, single people, is what a healthy marriage looks like,” Wong perceptively tells us as she closes her special.

This is the paradox that is marriage. The domestic in an uneasy truce with the erotic. I need to feel I can be myself, an individual that exists with some distance from my spouse and his needs (and our family's needs), and yet still feel the tether anchoring me to my home base, to trust that despite some space between us as distinct persons, our relationship is secure. Because, really, how can we crash back together in passionate madness if there was never any distance between us to cross?

I suppose, in working on having a passionate marriage, I'm working toward having PM as my side piece, so I can have my cake and eat it, too.

So…if you haven't already, go and watch the latest Ali Wong special "Don Wong" on Netflix. And if you’re a married woman in your late thirties or forties (or heck, any age), leave a comment or drop me a DM, and let me know what your reaction was. Did her thoughts resonate with you, too? Now that she spoke my thoughts so clearly, I know that I’m not alone in this struggle. But I’m curious — where are you all at?

Until next time, stay kinky 😉