Deployment dreams

Ok *oversharing alert* family and friends click away now.

Popeye has just reminded me of something that has happened every deployment and I’m wondering if it happens to you too.

Thing is, it’s a tad embarrassing.

A smidge, a pinch, a wee bit cringe inducing.


When your partner deploys, companionship and wholesome friendship issues aside, it leaves a big gap in your sex life. There’s a *ahem* how do I put it- a romantic need that he just *ahem* can’t fulfill because he is several thousand miles away.

We all have our own “coping mechanisms” and this post is not about that. It’s about something else that happens after a “dry spell” spanning several months.

Every time Popeye has been on deployment I have had (occasional) rude dreams.

(This, so far, is pretty normal right? Stay with me. It gets weird)

Every time Popeye has been on deployment I have had rude dreams that are not starring Popeye.

(Ok ok we’re all grown ups here, we can admit that dreaming about someone other than your partner does happen and although totes cringey and not something you mention down the phone- not exactly something entering into the realms of bizarre.)

Here it is- 

Every time Popeye has deployed I have had rude dreams about low status TV personalities. 

Not even proper slebs! These fantasy dreams have starred such well known hotties as 

  • Alan Titchmarsh


    • Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall 

    Each time I’ve woken up totally and utterly freaked out and emailed Popeye in a state of utter squeamishness. 

    I don’t know why my subconscious seeks out middle aged gardeners and organic chefs as prime X rated dream stars.

    But it does. And it scares me. I don’t get my brain. When I’m awake, they do nothing for me. Sorry Al and Hugh, no offence but you’re just not my type(s). 

    Tell me I’m not the only one?

    Seriously, you guys have had freaky weird sex dreams too, right guys? Right?!

    Muchos love

    Olive x 

    Goodbyes and doing “It”.

    Let’s talk about sex baby.

    More specifically “Goodbye Sex”.

    Aka ta ta shagging, au revoir ménage, bon voyage bonking, see you later 69ing, or just farewell fucking. 

    Whatever you call it, it sucks (no pun intended). There’s a sense of “shit, time is running out and we won’t be getting to DO IT for ages so we’d better make this round count.”

    So there’s a fair amount of pressure to be a super awesome, bendy, fluttery eyelashes, up for anything minx. Even when all you want to do is the standard sideways cuddle position, check your phone for Brexit updates and then fall asleep. 

    Then there’s the emotional side of it. Sometimes, just before they deploy you don’t want them near you like that at all. Because even if they don’t mean to, they are hurting you by leaving. It’s not rational. It’s not logical but you hurt at the thought of the impending aloneness and their role in it.

    No amount of Barry White or wining and dining will shake that feeling.

    But you want to be close to them.

    You feel vulnerable and angry and sad and scared and downright unsettled. So the natural reaction, the normal reaction when feeling threatened is to seek reassurance from the one person you feel closest to. Sexy reassurance. 

    But the emotions are running so high and you’re trying to get yours whilst making sure it’s a session they won’t forget in a hurry and at the same time you’re trying to make sure your mummy tummy isn’t showing and it’s too much pressure.

    Goodbye sex is almost as exhausting emotionally as homecoming sex.

    Except you don’t get to have another shot in the foreseeable future.

    And no pun intended (again) but that’s hard. Really hard.

    Woah! Who’s that man in my bed?!

    It’s a few days after homecoming, it’s the weekend, the sunlight is shining out of the edges of the curtains, birds are singing, you stretch, yawn and reach over to your phone to check Facebook obsessively, then your foot brushes up against a distinctly hairy *thing*in your bed.

    Disclaimer: this is not what i look like when i wake up. Anyone claiming to look like this when they wake up is a massive liar liar pants on fire.

    “WTAF IS THAT????” You think, you flip over, iPhone raised heavenward and at the ready- a man is sleeping next to you! One arm raised, mouth slightly open, stubbly chin, and a *you know what* down there, yep definitely a man. Here. In my bed. Now. Doing a little morning fart.

    “holy crap there is a man in my bed!” 

    (Whoops I mean our bed of course)

    It is of course Popeye home after deployment and not some freaky stalker/narcoleptic burglar but if you are anything like me there will be the odd sleepyheaded morning moment when you forget that he has actually come home. 

    So (if you are slightly crackers like me) you try to slide out of the bed without showing any of the skin that was showing when you both got into bed the night before. Then I have to manically try to find something to cover said skin without waking him up so he doesn’t actually have to see me naked in the sunlight and be turned to stone. Or something. 

    Ahh thats better. This is much more like me when I wake up. Good one google.

    This is just one of the weird post homecoming issues I have had to get to grips with, others include:

    • Shower diplomacy. With my own husband. I never knew how annoying it is to have to have the “no no you get the first shower”, “no it’s fine you go for it” with someone who isn’t even a freakin guest. 
    • Being a considerate human being #1. All of a sudden I have to factor in what he likes for dinner and the sad realisation that special k with red berries just won’t do for two.
    • Being a considerate human being #2. Having to decide what to watch on tv in the evening. Together. And like compromise and shit. Eurgh.
    • Washing two peoples worth of clothes and feeling a teeny bit resentful  about it.
    • Forgetting he gets hay fever and buying loads of flowers that are reduced in tesco (my bad, sorry hubby).
    • Letting him drive my (our) car. It’s a bit how I imagine my mum felt when she gave me my first (and last) driving lesson. 
    • He eats all my chocolate. All of it. End of.

    Eventually I/we realise we have become a “we” again. It takes time and a lot of reality checks, deep breaths and compromises on both sides to be honest. 

    The reality of being an “us” or a “we” or a “them” after so bloody long being an “I” or a “me” takes just a little while to sink in. 

    And first thing on a Saturday morning it’s easy to forget that it’s us in our bed after so many days of it being me in my bed. 

    So once ive got my head around the fact that he is actually home with me it’s usually quite a good time to refocus my thoughts on what other activities we can do in our bed.


    Muchos love X 

    Mr LH Valentine 💝

    I wanted to write a Valentine’s Day blog post to cheer you all up but then I realised I’ve never spent one with Popeye. Not one. In 8 years. 


    Kinda outside my sphere of experience. 

    So here’s to all of us staying in and watching pretty woman with a bottle of wine! Huzzah! 

    Let’s give civvy wives V day. Let’s let them have it and hold no grudges. After all we get homecoming and let’s face it that’s like 1000 times better! 

    Seriously I’ve decided I pity those civvys having to pin all their romance on one day of the year. Such hope. Such stress. Such potential for disappointment. Such pressure on all parties. Think about it, we get:

    1. Homecoming kiss.
    2. Homecoming sex.’nuff said.
    3. All the times they’re at sea for a few weeks then they get weekenders and come home all randy and appreciative and want to take us out for dinner and dancing.
    4. And mid deployment flowers.
    5. And really cool presents from around the world. 
    6. Soppy emails and voicemails we can reread or re listen to over and over. (Beats a card in my books.)

    So we basically get Valentine’s Day several times a year. Except for the card. 

    All that being said I’d still quite like to have him home for just ONE Valentine’s Day. 

    Until then it’s just me and this lothario 😂 

    Have a good one ladies! 


    Navy wife word porn

    There are a few short phrases that will leave any military spouse weak at the knees, salivating, crouched ready to spring and jump her sailor.

    We are a straight forward lot, our needs are simple, and our feelings strong.

    Sailors! Take heed! Listen up! Just spout these phrases and your wife will become putty in your hand….

    (*Please read this using the voice of the M&S advert lady for full effect.*)

    “Comms are up, promise I’ll call later today”.

    I’ve got that funny feeling in my tummy!

    “I’ve taken Friday off”

    Oh yeah! Hubba hubba.

    “Weekend duty was cancelled”

    Cue Marvin Gaye.

    “I’m definitely home for Christmas/your birthday/our anniversary”

    Eeeeeek!!! Having to hold myself back here!

    “Deployment date is postponed”.

    Move over Christian Grey. Popeye is 50 shades of battleship grey sexier than you right now.

    “I’ll be coming home early, I’ve got advanced leave”.

    It’s like I can hear my clothes saying “the floor! The floor! We should be on the flooooooor!!!”

    And then the best, sexiest, most leg shaking, bits tingling words of all…

    “Homecoming date has been brought forward”

    Holy shit Popeye!

    What can I say…you had me at homecoming.