Tag Archives: Shona Sibary

Shona Sibary is a vindictive, insecure, blathering idiot who accidentally tells a great story about what marriage really is. Count your blessings, you foolish cow. Count your blessings.

4 Jul

As my regular readers know, I am not a huge fan of Shona Sibary.  She is a nasty piece of work who uses her family life and circumstances as click bait for her columns at the Daily Mail, although in her comments to me on this blog, she has encouraged me “not to believe everything I read”, which I rationally take to mean she makes a lot of her shit up.



I blog anonymously and use pseudonyms for my children and family and friends and I think carefully before relating anything that might be painful for my children or husband to read, but I guarantee you I don’t make anything up.  My “true stories” are all true, including the ones I plan to relate today.

shona bride

So here is the quick and dirty story about Shona’s marriage:  she dated her husband for six years and he finally confessed he couldn’t imagine waking up to her every day for the rest of his life and then vomited.  They parted, but then had a little break-up sex party and Shona “accidentally” got pregnant.

Yeah, right.

Accident my ass.


Keith stepped up to the plate and married Shona and they went on to have three more children and built a life together.  In Shona’s words:

Sometimes I have to pinch myself to believe that I struck gold with a man who put building a family above his own pursuit of personal happiness.


Oh, honey, strike gold you certainly did.  Keith understands what marriage IS.  You, on the other hand, are a spiteful, immature toddler who needs to be taken in hand.  Shona’s main bone of contention is that her marriage to her husband didn’t begin from a place of Disney fairytale romance complete with sparkles and a tiara.

After four children, fourteen years, countless material comforts and endless hours of companionship, Shona still resents the fact that her husband broke up with her all those years ago.

I push Keith constantly. I’m forever testing his commitment, his desire to be here. I’ve even threatened to walk out on occasions and he has resorted to hiding the car keys to stop me. But, by the same turn, I know there is no way he would ever leave – he wouldn’t do it to the children and has said this often in the heat of a row. So he is here to stay. Just not because of me.

I’ll never know if Keith truly loves me.

There are two huge things wrong with that last statement:  1)  Most marriages may begin with romantic love, but that is not what sustains them; and 2) Men show their love by DOING, and for the love of fucking god, what more do you expect Keith to do?


It’s hard to imagine Keith could have bestowed his loyalty and dedication and children on a more undeserving woman.  You’ll never know if he loves you?  He’s there.  He has built a life with you.  He tolerates your insecurities and selfishness and your tendencies to beat the crap out of your children (something I will never understand).  By your own words, you know he will never leave you.  He will never hurt his own children.  He will never let your bat-shit craziness destroy him or his family.

What do you think love means, if not that?


The dictionary definition of “love” is something like an intense feeling of attachment or affection for a particular person or thing, but that definition spins a little differently when sex and marriage and children come into play.  “Love” becomes a term that expresses evolutionary-economic exchange.

Here is a link to an article at Psychology Today that discusses a paper published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology called Let’s Get Serious: Communicating Commitment in Romantic Relationships.


Are men or women more likely to confess love first in romantic relationships? And how do men and women feel when their partners say “I love you”? An evolutionary– economics perspective contends that women and men incur different potential costs and gain different potential benefits from confessing love. Across 6 studies testing current and former romantic relationships, we found that although people think that women are the first to confess love and feel happier when they receive such confessions, it is actually men who confess love first and feel happier when receiving confessions.

i love

The researchers begin with the premise that “love” expresses an indication of future devotion, a commitment to future behavior.  And naturally, men and women have different attitudes and needs when it comes to future commitment.  Men say “I love you” to help move a relationship to a sexual level, which doesn’t mean they don’t actually love the person, it just means uttering the words is a good strategy for getting laid.  Women say “I love you” once a sexual relationship is underway, because a potential child could be on the way, too, and she will need some devotion to raise that child.

Here is where the research gets interesting:  men reported being happier hearing “I love you” BEFORE sex occurs, while women report being happier hearing “I love you” AFTER sex has already taken place.  Both men and women consider the timing of the expression to be more honest.

If a man says “I love you” AFTER he has already had sex with you, he is clearly not using love as a technique for getting in your pants.  If a woman says “I love you” BEFORE she has sex, she is clearly not just trying to trap you into caring for your offspring.

What is really important here is that love comes down to devotion.  To commitment.  A man who says “I love you” after he has already had sex with you is a man prepared to devote himself to you.  In Shona’s case, Keith’s unquestioning devotion to her and their children IS LOVE.  And because Keith expressed that love AFTER she was already pregnant, it is arguably MORE HONEST an expression than any other could ever be.

Why doesn’t Shona get that?


Let’s try to unpack what women mean when they say “romance” and “love”.  I don’t think Shona is alone in doubting her husband’s love because he is not expressing it exactly the way she wants him to.  In fact, I know she’s not.  It’s one of women’s top complaints about their husbands.


Hell, I complain about it, too!  But Mr. JB’s lack of romantic impulses doesn’t make me doubt his love for me, it just makes me think he’s being a dick.   So I overcome my natural shyness and reluctance to express my opinions (hahahahahahahaha!), and I ASK him to give me what I want or do what I would like.


Buy me flowers

Run me a bubble bath

Write me a sonnet (that worked out well)


I am well and fully aware that there is a huge disparity between me and my husband when it comes to the idea of “romance”, but I have never, for one moment confused “romance” with love.  Love is going to work every day.  Love is paying all the bills.  Love is being here even when I’m being unreasonable or I’m in a bad mood or I’ve had a rough day with the kids and I take it out on him.

It happens.


My love is providing all his meals, keeping our house (somewhat) neat and tidy, caring for our children with as much kindness and patience as I can muster, being here even when he’s boring me into a coma with the details of some stupid planning meeting or yelling at me because something at work pissed him off.

For my husband, that’s enough.  Devotion, commitment, tolerance, patience and the rock solid knowledge that I will never leave.  For me, it’s not.  I want all those little fairy tale gestures, too.  Yes, I realize it’s not fair.  If he is happy just knowing that I am here, I should be happy just knowing that he is here.  Well, I’m not.   Boo fucking hoo.  Buy me some flowers.  Life isn’t fair.


When he falls off the “I must please my irrational wife” bandwagon, I don’t confuse that with “he doesn’t love me”.  Pleasing me is not love.  Sharing my interests is not love.  Love is being here.  Forever.

The fact that Shona’s marriage had a rough start is irrelevant.  What happened fourteen years ago doesn’t mean one goddamn thing.  It’s everything that has happened since then that matters.


True story:  Mr. JB and I met at grad school, far away from our families and we were free to ignore all their expectations and aspirations for us.  We dated for a year, and then decided that we would be engaged for a full year, not to plan a wedding (how dumb), but to be sure.  To be certain we were making the right decision. To have time to turn over the idea that this would be forever.  To have a few fights, and figure out how we would solve them.  To really get to know each other.

And everything was fine until we took jobs in a city that put us in regular contact with his family.  And his mother in particular.  Mr. JB had spent the two previous years before he met me in Japan, and a lot of that had to do with freeing himself from the suffocating influence of his mother.  I have some compassion for the Dowager, as Mr. JB is an only child, and that was not by choice.  The Dowager had wanted three children, but she suffered from secondary infertility and miscarried every other child she conceived.  There were many.


I cannot imagine her heartbreak.

Understandably, Mr. JB is incredibly precious to his parents, and when they met me, they were visibly, palpably upset. I was not the woman they had in mind for their darling son.  Because I did not really know them, I did not see all the ways in which they disparaged me, or called into question Mr. JB’s choice.  Apparently, I was on the receiving end of many snarky, snide, insulting comments, but I’m not fluent in Snotbag White Speak, so I missed them.

When Mr. JB broke off our engagement two days before Christmas, I was completely blindsided.


Absolutely the worst Christmas of my life.  I was devastated.  Shattered. And so was he.  He spent several weeks talking with two of his very close friends, who eventually helped him to see that he was completely nuts to bow to his parents, and six weeks later, the phone rang and he asked me to meet him at a hotel restaurant.

He explained everything that had gone on in his mind and by the end of dinner, he asked me to marry him all over again.


You know what I recall the most about that whole episode? That when I met him outside the hotel, he had a single rose.  One.  It makes me laugh, even now, to think about it.  Dude, are you fucking serious?  If ever there was a time to splurge on a dozen roses, THIS IS IT!

But nope. One rose.  I still have it.

I don’t look back on that in anger.  He made a mistake.  He fixed it.  And he saved the $24 a dozen roses would have cost.  Four months later, we married.  His parents looked like they were at a funeral.  It was terrible, and I’m sure it was unpleasant for Mr. JB to see them react like that.

This summer will be our thirteenth wedding anniversary.  I don’t look back to the beginning of our relationship and think “he didn’t love me enough to stand up to his mother”.  If I ever bring the subject up, it’s in jest.


Love isn’t a single moment frozen in time.  It isn’t one act or one thought or one word.  It’s a long series of moments and acts and words that have no end but one.



One day, we will be old, and we will die.  And love will be the culmination of every day we spent together.  Because that is what love is.  A lifetime of devotion.

After 14 years, it looks to me like Keith knows what love is.  God knows why, but he loves her.  I actually feel sorry for Shona.  How awful to not see something so beautiful, right in front of your face.


I wonder if that wonky eye has anything to do with it?

Lots of love,


Disney Princesses are kind and pretty and that’s bad. Disney Villainesses are evil and cruel and that’s awesome! Disney Princes don’t count for anything at all. Feminist Disney theory is hard!

4 Jun

This is Merida.  She’s an awesome little ass-kicking archer who has one or two ideas about how to save her realm from disaster, and they involve comfortable clothing and a distinct lack of concern over her hair (which is completely fabulous).


Unlike other Disney Princesses, Merida was lauded by the feminist media because she doesn’t give a hoot about icky things like love and romance and boys.  Boys?!?!  Ewwww.  Gross.  We don’t want to be encouraging our own little princesses to think that family and love and children and marriage and men might be a key part of their happiness.  Get married to a man you love and then have children?  How dumb is that?


Jezebel got so horned out over the drawing of an underage girl, they started imagining having sex with her.  Merida could be a lesbian!  Imagine what we could do with a lesbian!  Nothing to see here, folks.  Grown women lusting over an underage cartoon drawing of another woman.




In the movie, Merida is 16 years old, just on the cusp on becoming a woman.  Disney recently issued a new drawing of Merida in which she has aged a bit, and her form has taken on a decidedly more feminine, womanly silhouette.


Cue the outrage!  16 year old girls don’t grow into lovely, shapely women!  That’s bullshit!  She can’t be slender and willowy!  That doesn’t happen.  La la la I can’t hear you biology!


Had they chunked Merida out, made her a fat little sow, and chopped off her hair, I am sure Disney would have been applauded and adored!  Fat acceptance!  Defiance of heteronormativity*! Hooray!

big red

One shivers to think of the lesbian fantasies a fat Merida with short hair would elicit.

*heteronormative means understanding that most people are heterosexual which is obviously a big fat lie

Shamefully, Disney caved and withdrew the new drawing of Merida.  That’s actually very troubling.  At least the executives at Disney pointed out the total hypocrisy of equating Merida with what she wears or how she does her hair.

That image doesn’t represent a ‘new’ Merida replacing an ‘old’ Merida: it’s just another iteration of Merida, who is much, much more than just red curls and a green dress. The gussied up Merida on the coronation invitation is Merida gussied up for one of the most important events of her princess career. That she’s a little more sparkly for the party is not a heresy against her independent and spirited self – I consider myself independent and spirited, and I wore the sparkliest gown that I could find when I got married, because of course I did.


Disney Princesses come in for a whack ton of criticism for caring about men and marriage and love, but the biggest crime the Princesses commit is being thin and pretty.


And it’s true.  The Princesses are slender and beautiful and the features that humans tend to perceive as the most beautiful are greatly exaggerated.



Jasmine’s eyes are huge and her hair is impossibly fluffy and long and her limbs are so slender and her waist is so tiny and oh my!  Real women look nothing like Disney Princesses.

Of course, the Princes are always depicted as normal, proportional, utterly realistic male human beings, right?

No emphasis on strength?


No impossible beauty?


No chiselled jawlines?


No ridiculously broad shoulders and narrow waists?

snow white

No smooth pectorals?


No bulging biceps?


No washboard abs?


And Princes never, ever have great wealth and power and prestige to trade for the Princesses beauty, right?


It’s curious that Jezebel will go to town on the Princesses for being unrealistically beautiful and kind and pretty and thin, but when it comes to the Villainesses, the choir falls silent.

evil queen

The Evil Queen is every bit as slender and beautiful as Snow White.  Why, she’s the second fairest in the land.  How do you deal with being the second prettiest girl in the room?  Well, you murder the prettiest one, obviously.


The live action movie Snow White and the Huntsman failed precisely because Charlize Theron is so much prettier than what’s-her-face.


Cruella deVille?  Scrawny little bitch, ain’t she?  And she turns puppies into coats!


Glenn Close did a marvellous job bringing her to life.  She’s not at all unrealistically beautiful.


Maleficent?  Size zero evil.


And Angelina Jolie is so totally average.


The hypocrisy of all this just drives me mad.  The only difference between the Villainesses and the Princesses is that the Princesses are kind and they love a man.  The feminist outcry over body image is nothing but a smokescreen.  If feminists cared about unrealistic body images, they would care just as much about how the evil women are portrayed and about how the men are portrayed.


Pretty young women who are kind and love a man.  That’s the story feminism hates.  The story they do not want little girls to hear.  They want the heart of that story carved out of every little girl’s chest and brought to them in a  box.


It will never work.  The Huntsman for one, refuses to carry out the Evil Queen’s dirty work.  And the Princess won’t stop loving the Prince. It’s in her nature.


And nature is a difficult force to reckon with.  It hardly ever ends well for those who try.


Biology always wins.  Beauty wins.  Love wins.


Your beauty does not have to be extraordinary.  Just make the most of what you have.  Try.  Beauty and the Boobz anyone?


Disney fairytales are beloved because they are true.  Be kind, be loving, be generous, be as pretty as you can be.  That’s how you capture the heart of the Prince.

naveen & tiana

That’s how you live happily ever after.

Lots of love,


Don’t want to have sex with your emotionless robot drone husband? There’s a pill for that!

29 May



Trigger warning: images of Shona Sibary


Hey, have you guys heard about this little blue pill men can take to produce instant raging boner?




Apparently, the ladies version will be hitting the shelves soon, and boy, has that ever stimulated some interesting conversation! Kelly Rose Bradford and my favorite little cross-eyed child beater, Shona Sibary had separate takes on the issue over at the Daily Mail, and let me tell you, they both suck.


shona 2



Shona, she of the “I would rather mop the floor than fuck my husband” school of matrimony, says the pill will never work because women are so much more emotionally complicated than men.




Sibary said women are more complicated sexually than men, and that the pill would not stimulate females emotionally.

She said: ‘If you’re a man and you want to have sex for the sake of having it, fine, pop a pill and have sex in the mechanical way.

‘But women are different. I’m the type of woman this drug is targeting, and we want to feel desirable and desired: it’s not a chemical thing, it’s an emotional thing.’




Yikes! Perhaps a reality check is in order on the desirability front. Honey, you’re ugly. You simply cannot afford to be overweight and have a shitty haircut, too. Now, now, don’t get mad at me, gentle readers. The fact that Shona is ugly is not news to her.




Let’s hope Mr. Sibary is blessed with very poor eyesight. What I really want to talk about is Shona’s argument that for men, sex is mechanical, while for women, it’s emotional.


Vātsyāyana strongly disagrees.




Probably the move famous book on sex ever written. Kama Sutra means “Aphorisms of Love”. You will note the absence of the word “jackhammer” in that translation.


John Donne thinks Shona is full of shit, too. The greatest love poet in the English language.




Love’s mysteries in souls do grow,

But yet the body is his book.




George Herbert, too.


You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:

So I did sit and eat.




Basically the entire worlds of art and literature are against Shona’s assertion that men are rutting pigs who will stick their dicks in anything that moves, incapable of feeling love or profound emotional connection.


Rodin says Fuck You, Shona. The most beautiful sculpture ever created, in my opinion.




Leaving aside her lack of physical assets, compounded terribly by being overweight, dreadful hair and absolutely no sense of fashion whatsoever, is it possible that the lack of desire Shona complains about is the result of her being a fucking bitch? I mean really, after a busy day of slapping her toddler so hard she leaves welts behind, humiliating her teenage daughter by inviting people to call her a slut and looking upon her husband with disgust and the mop pail with lust, what exactly is there to desire about this woman?






What kind of emotional connection is possible with a woman who admits she terrorizes her children regularly with physical violence?


I was talking to a friend the other day, and she admitted — in a guilty whisper — that she had, very occasionally, smacked her two sons. She refrained from doing so more often because she couldn’t bear the thought of them ‘flinching’ when she went near them.

I refrained from telling her that my children not only flinch — they duck, dive and even, on occasion, lock themselves in another room to avoid being on the receiving end of my hand.




Charming. God, I hate this woman. The only pill she should consider taking is cyanide.


So let’s move on to Bradford. Does she make a better argument for why women should take the lady viagara?


Speaking to Dr Dawn Harper and married presenters Eamonn Holmes and Ruth Langsford, Bradford said the pill could help women suffering from a low sex drive to stop their husbands straying.


Now, we’ve discussed before how a lack of sex does indeed push husbands to stray, but unspoken in Bradford’s argument is the exact same assumption as Sibary.




That men just want to fuck. No emotional commitment or engagement is necessary. Pop the pill, roll over, and have at ‘er.




So romantic.


What both these women are doing is assuming a moral superiority over men when it comes to the experience of emotion. The ladies are not just assuming their own feelings trump any feelings men might have, but point blank denying that men have any feelings at all! It’s astonishing that women making those kinds of claim illicit no reaction whatsoever, even from the man sitting in the room with them!




Sex is just mechanics for men. Men don’t feel love. Love isn’t an important determinant of how satisfying sex is for men. Men don’t care WHY their wives are having sex with them, they just want sex.


Hmmm. Such a mystery why these particular women don’t find sex all that satisfying, huh?


Check out this column from Maggie McNeill at the Honest Courtesan (a woman who knows a thing or two about male desire). The idea that “duty sex” is unappealing to men is taken for granted. The exact opposite of what the ladies at the Daily Mail argue.






Loss of libido in women, excepting rare medical conditions, in my opinion, is a direct result of not seeing men as emotionally complex beings. If you’re married, at some point, your husband probably stood in front of you and promised to love you forever. Rejecting him physically is a very wounding thing to do. It hurts. Sex is one of the most important, intimate ways married couples show that they love one another. Refusing to have sex with your husband is telling him, in a very painful way, that you don’t love him. That you don’t care for him or about him.


I guess the only way to justify that is to think of men as emotionless. It doesn’t hurt men to be rejected because they don’t feel anything to begin with.


That’s the ugly little reality behind female viagara. Will it actually boost women’s libido? Who knows. What difference will it make, though, if women are going to continue to see men as less than completely human? That’s the real problem.


i carry your heart with me

by E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)



How did we get here? How do we go back? I’d like a pill for that.


Lots of love,








%d bloggers like this: