Why Women Feel Aggrieved. How to appreciate your chick more. And get better sex as a result.

I was making the bed in the house my then boyfriend and I shared.

I lovingly placed the bedclothes on a chair and smelt the musty scent of him. I felt a spark of love for him, a warm excited feeling.

Then I plumped the pillows, whacking them with the karate style chop I'd learnt from watching Seven Samurai.

I lovingly smoothed out the sheets and felt a spark of excitement from the memory of last night's between the sheets party.

I threw fresh new sheets up in the air and watched them settle slowly over the bed.

I smoothed out the corners of the sheets, folding them gently into themselves, knowing how he liked his sheets tight.

Then I threw on the duvet and patted it down so there were no bumps

Then I stood back and looked at my work and felt very wholesome, domestic-y and loving (with a splash of happy-martyrdom thrown in for good measure)

Two days later, my boyfriend and I got into an argument. I wanted him to clean up more after himself. I was the nightly cook, the washer upper, the bed maker, the tidier and the cleaner. And I was the samurai pillow plumper. He did the dishes when we had guests.

'But I do!'

'No you don't! Well, only sometimes.'

'I do all the time!'

'No, you don't! I do it 'all the time' and I spend a lot of time and energy on it.

'No, you don't!-'

'-What? Are you saying that I don't do any housework?

'You don't do that much.'

'Why you little freaking...!'

Etcetera etceteras ad nauseam, ad nauseam.

Please, all you lovely men out there, please, take heed. Do you know how entirely frustrating it is to put a lot of love, time and effort into something, then not only not be appreciated for it, but to be told that there is a weird time warp space continuum where apparently you don't do anything at all?

Let me tell you, it's up there with male-speak 'please have sex with me.' That same level of frustration. It's feeling like a hungry bear with a suction packed honey jar.

What you can do is this:

'Sweetie, I know you do a lot of work around the house and I appreciate it, I'll try and do a little more' – then you're off the hook. Whether you actually do end up sweeping or not.

It's sooooo simple.

Because when your chick feels appreciated – she does nice things for you. She samurai plumps your pillows, she lovingly makes meals instead of opening a can and dumping it on your plate. And she likes you more, so she wants to have sex with you more.

1 + 1 = 2

Appreciate + help = more sex.

When my boyfriend was appreciative – I'd do a double whack combo karate chop on his pillow, I'd make that extra effort.

Let's flip it around. A lot of men get up, go to work, work hard for their family, come home tired but feel that the domestic goings on inside the house supersede their own needs and he ends up feeling unappreciated for his contribution.

They want their woman to say 'sweetie, I appreciate all your hard work, and I'll show you my appreciation by giving you oral sex.' Now whether she does or not is a matter of debate, but just like sweeping – it's nice to hear.

Point is men, appreciate your partner as you would like to be appreciated. It costs nothing, helps wondrously and gets both of you laid.

Fire, O Fire. You are so much more than sex.

Fire. O you magnificent beast. O you roaring primeval thing. You sex maddened thing. This column is a tribute to you, you almighty yellow haired mistress of light.

I get huge kick out of lighting a fire. Not in a pyromaniac sort of way, more of a cavewoman grunty sort of way. I am master of fire. Fire-be-hot-I-control-you. It's really about ego.

As Tarantino would say, I got the whole steeple thing down pat, I don't be letting the ambers cool and everything. I don't even use firestarters.

There's this little test you can give your potential lover, and trust me, it works a treat. You ask them three questions. (I'm getting back to fire in a sec. )

1. What is your favourite animal and give me three adjectives (that's a describing word for the fellow I-played-snooker-in-halls-instead-of-going-to-classes people out there.)
2. What is your favourite drinking vessel and three words to describe it. E.g. Shot glass, champagne flute, teacup etc.
3. When you think of fire, what three words immediately spring to mind?

Now this little doozie is a sure fire winner. It'll tell you everything you need to know about that person. The words they use to describe their favourite animal are how they see themselves. The drinking vessel is what physical body type they like to rub noodles with, um have sex with. And finally, O finally, FIRE – how they feel about fire - is how they feel about sex itself.

But now fire to me is more than sexuality, it's primal and... and well, just very fucking cool. I get all cavewoman and crouch down and rip off the newspaper and plunge my poker in and watch it roar into life, smouldering ashes bursting into flame. Powerful, dominant bursts. Exciting.

Hang on.

That is kind of sexual isn't it?

Blush.

Okay random comment here, but today I read a statistic that as men age, they get more and more into dominant sex. (http://blog.okcupid.com/ )Whodda thought? Just thought I'd mention it. Not sure why. Moving on.

Digression over – back to fire not being about sex.

Fire, O fire. I like you. Your capricious little turrets of colour, licking and supping from the almighty log. Your spurts and splutters of noise and colour, your maddening flickering and warm oozy hotness, roaring into a satisfying climax with bursts and eddies... then eventual cooling into exhausted smouldering warmth.

O fire. Nuthin' but sweet innocence about you. O fire.