My husband’s secret fantasy has broken me. Friends say it’s a harmless kink all men have – but I know the truth behind it: ASK JANA

Dear Jana, 

My husband recently suggested we try something new in the bedroom, a bit of light roleplay.

His exact words were ‘I want you to dress up like a cleaner. You know, in a little uniform, heels, gloves… maybe carry around a feather duster’.

He thought he was being cheeky. I, on the other hand, felt my heart break.

Because years ago, when we had a weekly cleaner, I always had a gut feeling something was going on. 

He was overly friendly with her, came home early from work a few times when she was scheduled, and I kept smelling an unfamiliar perfume on his work shirt. 

When I confronted him then, he brushed it off as me being paranoid. The cleaner eventually quit, and I let it go, mostly because I never had proof. 

But the suspicion never left me.

Now this. He wants me to roleplay as the maid.

My friends say it’s a harmless kink – every man fantasises about shagging ‘the help’. But, to me, it feels like a veiled confession.

Sincerely, 

Maid of Anger. 

Dear Maid of Anger,

Here’s the thing about women’s intuition: it’s not a feeling – it’s evidence whispering to you. Subconscious data. Micro-expressions. Sudden silences. Unfamiliar perfume. 

It all gets filed away in a dusty mental drawer marked ‘probably nothing’. 

Until one day, your husband cheerfully suggests you dress like the woman you always suspected he was sleeping with. Then it gets dumped out all over the carpet.

So no, you’re not overreacting. You’re finally reacting.

I don’t think this is a fantasy. I think it’s a Freudian slip. He wants to revisit something he’s already done – or at least desperately wanted to do – with someone else behind your back.

Kinks are weird, personal and often hilarious, but they don’t just come from nowhere – they are formed by life experiences. Sometimes these are innocent – like a crush on a P.E. teacher (shout out to Mr Baker!) Sometimes they aren’t so innocent – like the time a husband was bending over the cleaner while his wife was at work.

So when he says, ‘Let’s do a little roleplay – you be the sexy maid,’ what you’re actually hearing is: ‘I want to relive a sexual encounter that you were never meant to know about.’ 

And I don’t blame you for feeling sick.

You already did the confronting – he already did the denying. And now he’s parading the same fantasy through your bedroom like a cat bringing in a dead bird.

Because even if he didn’t cross the line back then, he’s crossing one now. He’s asking you to play the role of the young woman on minimum wage he lusted after while you were out helping pay the mortgage.

Yuck. 

So no, you’re not being dramatic – you’re finally paying attention. 

If you can’t get a straight answer out of him, maybe it’s time to stop dusting around the edges of this marriage and see what’s truly been swept under the rug.

Dear Jana, 

I don’t know when it happened, but my husband has completely shut off from the world.

We’ve been married 12 years, and for the first half of that, he was fun, sociable and spontaneous. 

We hosted dinner parties, travelled and had weekends away. Now, he finishes work, puts the TV on… and that’s it. No gatherings, no holidays, no interest in leaving the house.

I’m not looking for all-night raves or a second adolescence, but I miss feeling like we have a life together, not just a shared roof. Every time I try to bring it up, he shrugs and says he’s tired.

Aren’t we all?

Is it fair to want more from him, or am I just refusing to accept that people change?

Married to a Hermit. 

Dear Married to a Hermit,

He sounds like a total slob. I’m picturing him scratching his balls and filling his face with chips as he watches the footy. This isn’t what you signed up for. I’d be pissed.

Here’s the thing no one tells you about marriage: for some men, the wedding is the finish line, not the starting gun.

He’s already ‘won’. He got the girl, said the vows, knocked you up (possibly). Tick, tick, tick. Now he’s settled in for a long, comfortable retirement in the emotional equivalent of a beige tracksuit. 

It sounds like you’re waking up to the fact your husband stopped trying the moment he knew he didn’t have to. This is him slowly opting out while assuming you’ll stick around in the silence.

The worst part is, he knows you’re unhappy. He just doesn’t think you’ll leave, so he doesn’t need to change.

So, throw a plot twist his way.

Don’t reward his passivity. Stop organising the weekends away. Stop asking for connection. Let him get really bored and realise that’s not ‘relaxing’ after a long week at work – it’s marital neglect.

And if he doesn’t come chasing after you with effort, ideas and a plan for how he intends to be a proper husband again, you tell him – kindly but clearly – that this isn’t the marriage you signed up for.

Dear Jana, 

I’m 63 and divorced after a 30-year marriage. The first year was a whirlwind of sadness, followed by newfound freedom.

I did all the cliché things – travelled solo, took up pottery, learned how to make a good martini. And now, after all that, I’ve met someone.

He’s kind, clever and makes me laugh. But my adult children, both in their 20s, have made it clear they’re uncomfortable.

They’re polite on the surface, but I can tell they think I’m being reckless. My daughter actually said, ‘Mum, can’t you just enjoy your own company?’ 

Like romance has an expiry date!

I feel judged for wanting companionship again. Is it selfish to be starting over when everyone expects you to fade quietly into the background?

My Kids are Prudes. 

Dear My Kids are Prudes,

Your pen name is spot on. Tell them to bugger off.

Honestly. Kindly. With love. But firmly – bugger right off!

Because let me tell you something that women in their 50s and 60s are finally starting to say out loud: we’re not invisible, we’re not done, and we’re not here to spend the rest of our lives playing everyone else’s emotional support goat.

You did the hard yards. Thirty years of marriage – bravo! You wiped noses and floors and probably your own dreams off the table.

And now, when you’re finally getting a second act – one with martinis, laughter and, dare I say it, some decent sex – the Gen Z offspring expect you to shut up shop. And why? Because healthy, fun relationships are apparently only for young people!

Your daughter’s ‘can’t you just enjoy your own company?’ really irks me. She should know better – maybe she doesn’t like seeing you as a happy, sexually free woman.

But here’s the bottom line: your children don’t get a say in your sex life. I’m sure they love their dad, but that marriage is over and now you can do whatever you like.

If your new man makes you feel alive, keep him. And if your kids need time to adjust to their mum being more than a relic, let them. That’s their work. Not yours.

You didn’t come this far just to sit quietly in the corner in your golden years.

Shag on.