Author: openjargon

• The US fight against Yemen's Houthis is its toughest fight since WWII, experts told AP.
• Houthi attacks on ships in the Red Sea aim to pressure Israel and the West over Gaza.
• US strikes recently destroyed Houthi radars as well as sea and aerial drones.

The US is facing its most intense battle since World War II against Yemen's Houthi rebels, experts say.

"We're sort of on the verge of the Houthis being able to mount the kinds of attacks that the US can't stop every time, and then we will start to see substantial damage," Bryan Clark, a former Navy submariner and a senior fellow at the Hudson Institute told the Associated Press.

"If you let it fester, the Houthis are going to get to be a much more capable, competent, experienced force."

"This is the most sustained combat that the US Navy has seen since World War II — easily, no question," he said.

Houthi attacks have been targeting ships in the Red Sea corridor with missiles and drones since October as part of a campaign that aims to put pressure on Israel and the West over the war in Gaza.

Between October 17 and the start of May, the Houthis attacked commercial vessels at least 53 times and have posed a serious threat to naval ships in dozens of other incidents, according to a Congressional Research Service report.

US warships from the US Navy's Dwight D. Eisenhower Carrier Strike Group had fired over 500 munitions fighting the Houthis, Business Insider reported on May 23.

This week, the US attacked several Houthi radar sites in response to recent rebel fire that targeted shipping containers and saw one merchant sailor go missing, authorities said Saturday.

US strikes destroyed seven radars within Houthi-controlled territory, the military's Central Command said.

"These radars allow the Houthis to target maritime vessels and endanger commercial shipping," CENTCOM said in a statement.

US forces also destroyed two Houthi uncrewed surface vessels (USV), or drone boats in the Red Sea, as well as an aerial drone launched from a Houthi-controlled area of Yemen, the statement said.

Director of National Intelligence Avril Haines warned last month that the Houthis were likely to remain active "for some time," and the intensity of the combat shows no sign of letting up.

"I don't think people really understand just kind of how deadly serious it is what we're doing and how under threat the ships continue to be," Cmdr. Eric Blomberg with the USS Laboon told the AP.

Sailors often have only a few seconds to confirm an incoming Houthi strike. They have to quickly confer with other ships and then respond by firing at the incoming missiles and drones.

"It is every single day, every single watch, and some of our ships have been out here for seven-plus months doing that," said Capt. David Wroe, the commodore overseeing the guided missile destroyers, told AP.

This exacting environment has put a financial strain on US resources in the region.

Parts of the Eisenhower strike group have already left the Red Sea once to be rearmed and resupplied, and the Pentagon recently extended its deployment for a second time.

Munitions have cost some $1 billion, Secretary of the Navy Carlos Del Toro revealed in mid-April, a figure that has certainly increased in the two months since.

"I think, unfortunately, the Biden administration has settled into a rhythm where, because of the Houthi attacks on commercial shipping, they feel like they have to do something," Brian Finucane, the senior advisor for the US program at the International Crisis Group, previously told Business Insider.

The Houthis continue to be backed by Iran, and have employed a dangerous mix of anti-ship ballistic and cruise missiles, one-way attack drones, and uncrewed surface vessels.

Earlier this month, the rebels said they had fired a new solid-fuel missile called the "Palestine" at the southern Israeli city of Eilat.

The missile is believed to be able to fly at hypersonic speeds and resembles one unveiled by Iran earlier this year.

Fabian Hinz, a weapons expert at the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, wrote on X that the Palestine missile reassembled the Iranian-developed Fattah 1 and the Kheybarshekan 2, both solid-fuel missiles.

• Jamey and Lauren Bertram's house, worth over $1 million, was posted on Zillow without their consent.
• A scammer listed the house for just $10,000, asking interested buyers to wire $200 to secure a tour.
• Some scammers can target eager buyers in a housing market with few reasonably priced homes for sale.

Picture waking up one day to find your inbox flooded and doorbell ringing with eager buyers all clamoring to purchase your home.

In this sluggish real estate market, it might seem like a dream — that is, if you're actually looking to sell.

For Kansas City homeowners Jamey and Lauren Bertram, the situation turned into a nightmarish ordeal when they realized their 5,300-square-foot home, purchased for around $1 million in 2019, had been falsely listed for sale on Zillow for a mere $10,000.

The Kansas City Star first reported the mixup.

"My wife and I both started getting emails from our friends saying, 'Hey, are you selling your house?' Of course, we're not," Bertram, who LinkedIn says is senior vice president at architecture and engineering firm Burns and McDonnell, told the newspaper. "I didn't know what they were talking about."

According to the Star, when Bertram first saw his home posted on Zillow, featuring images from the 2019 listing, it was for sale at its market value. However, within a few days, the price had been slashed to a fraction of its true worth: $10,000.

The Star quoted the listing description that Bertrams presumed was written by a scammer: "Once a year we sell one or a few of our homes to first time buyers for under $25,000. This is done to bless a family or individual that needs it, but also as a tax write off for us."

The listing description said that real-estate agents, lenders, investors, wholesalers, and attorneys should not inquire further, according to the Kansas City Star. It directed interested buyers to contact an individual named Mandi at a phone number with a Las Vegas area code.

The newspaper said when it tried reaching out to Mandi, it received a response instructing potential buyers to send $200 via an online banking app to the "owner's mom." It claimed a walk-through of the house would be provided, and a refund would be issued to anyone who didn't end up making an offer.

The listing was removed last week, but it wasn't clear how long it was live. Requests for comment to the Bertrams by phone and email was not immediately returned.

These scams are relatively common

Despite their brazenness, real-estate scams are pretty routine.

In 2023, the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Internet Crime Complaint Center saw more than 880,000 complaints about internet scams totaling $12.5 billion in losses. That's a 49% increase in the amount of money reported lost in 2022, according to FBI data that BI's Jordan Pandy cited in March.

Real estate scams are an especially popular internet crime.

According to the FBI, real estate wire fraud is classified as business email compromise (BEC). In the FBI's Internet Crime Complaint Center's annual report, BEC ranked as the second-costliest crime in 2022, following investment fraud, with reported losses totaling $2.9 billion.

Data from the Federal Bureau of Investigation shows that in 2023, over 9,500 people from across the country filed complaints of real estate fraud.

Homebuyers are easy prey for scammers right now.

In a housing market burdened by high prices and few available homes, many prospective buyers are eager to secure a good deal. Scammers, motivated by the potential to earn hundreds or even thousands of dollars, can turn to real-estate marketplaces like Zillow. Taking advantage of anonymity, they can create listings with appealing descriptions and unrealistically low prices to lure unsuspecting buyers.

In November, Galen Caldwell told news station KIRO 7 that his million-dollar Seattle home had been listed for sale on Zillow without his consent, priced at $10,245. The incident was connected to the Bertrams' situation by CBS News. In Caldwell's case, too, a scammer told prospective buyers to contact "Mandi" in Las Vegas and send $245 to the seller's mother.

Both Caldwell's and the Bertrams' listings have since been taken down.

But Bertram said that he and his wife are still receiving inquiries from people who want to buy their home.

"I'm kind of stuck here," Bertram told the Kansas City Star. "People want to see the house. It's just a complete scam."

• Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay says he's "lucky to be alive" after a cycling accident in Connecticut.
• Wearing a helmet saved his life, Ramsay said on Instagram.
• He lifted his chef's uniform to reveal a large purple bruise on his torso.

Gordon Ramsay said he's "lucky to be alive" after being involved in a "really bad" accident while cycling in Connecticut earlier this week.

In a video uploaded to Instagram on Saturday, the British celebrity chef, 57, credited his helmet for saving his life as he recounted the recent accident and showed off his injuries for which he required hospital treatment.

"This week, unfortunately, I had a really bad accident, and it really shook me, and honestly, I'm lucky to be here," Ramsay said.

The "Kitchen Nightmares" presenter continued: "Those incredible trauma surgeons, doctors, nurses in the hospitals looked after me this week. They were amazing, but honestly, you've got to wear helmets."

In his caption, he clarified that he did not "break any bones or suffer any major injuries" but said he was "a bit bruised up looking like a purple potato."

The keen cyclist wrote that he was thankful for those at Lawrence and Memorial Hospital's trauma surgeons and nurses who looked after him, but was "most thankful for my helmet that saved my life."

"I'm in pain. It's been a brutal week and I'm sort of getting through it," Ramsay added in the video.

He lifted his chef's uniform to reveal a dark bruise that covered a significant portion of his torso.

He stressed to his 17.4 million followers the importance of wearing a helmet while cycling.

"I don't care how short the journey is. I don't care that these helmets cost money. They're crucial."

Ramsay also shared before and after photographs, the first of which showed him wearing shorts, a bright yellow shirt, and a helmet while he stood beside his bike; the after showed the same shirt and helmet with substantial damage from the accident.

"I'm lucky to be standing here," he said.

The father of six signed off by wishing people a happy Father's Day.

"I want to wish you all a happy Father's Day, but please, please, please wear a helmet. If I didn't, honestly, I wouldn't be here now."

• My dad raised me alone in the Bronx in the 90s. 
• He told me I was not only his daughter, but also his best friend. 
• He died when I was 11 , and every Father's Day I think of him and try to celebrate who he was. 

For years Father's Day was a sad holiday for me. My dad raised me in the Bronx as a single parent in the 90's. Even harder than raising a child alone were my medical issues.

I was born partially blind and with cerebral palsy. Now, at 33, I realize the depth of responsibility he'd embraced. For years, I pondered how different my life would be if he didn't pass away three days after my 11th birthday.

"You're not just my daughter you're my best friend," he said one evening while pushing me in a stroller to the grocery store. Despite his parents' divorce, he had strong family values thanks to his Polish upbringing. Raised in Manhattan, John was a hippie in 70's while completing a bachelor's degree in philosophy. He met my mom when he was 35 and soon after I was born.

He fought for me

To tackle the complications of my disability, he made difficult decisions. After learning about my diagnosis when I didn't reach the milestone of walking, Dad gave consent for a surgery to correct my posture. He enrolled me in a specialized hospital Blythedale, in Valhalla, far away from our apartment. I received a peak level of specialized physical therapy that allowed me to walk with my knees bent through the help of a support cane. Quickly, he realized the education provided by the hospital was less than average.

Against professional advice and threats of losing parental custody during an ongoing court battle against my mother, Dad took me out of the children's hospital. I became the first disabled student to attend Our Lady of Angels Catholic school in the Bronx. He took me to outpatient PT three times a week. When I was 8 I had a kindergarten reading level. I soon caught up to my appropriate grade level, gained more confidence during interactions with the other children, and learned self-discipline.

He died and I was adopted

Unfortunately, my father lost custody of me and two years later he died. I stayed in foster care where I was eventually adopted at 16. As I grew older, I held onto the memory of my father and the life we'd shared. I found solace while spending time with my best friend in the area we grew up in as a teenager, overcome with pride when a local store owner called me "John's daughter."

In my 20s, while requesting documentation of my adoption at The Bronx courthouse, I met a woman who remembered my name. She'd worked on behalf of the court during my parent's custody battle, and never forgot my story. She said that she felt my father was treated unfairly because he was a man seeking custody of his daughter. She noted that despite my mother's own struggle with substances and a documented diagnosis of bipolar disorder, the court continuously granted her grace. Also, seeing first-hand how much my dad fought for me made an imprint on her. I left the short interaction with a new outlook. It was a liberating to gain validation from a stranger who didn't have a stake in my story.

Now, when Father's Day arrives, the sadness I once felt has been replaced with admiration. Over time, I've realized how lucky I was to have him, even for a short time. Instead of mourning his loss, I try to commemorate the role he chose to take on. Whatever struggles I face, his unconditional love sparks my resilience and I try to do good in the world with all the strength that he gave me.

• Amy Porterfield started her own business at 31 and surpassed her husband's income as a firefighter.
• They decided as a couple that her husband would retire and she would support both of them.
• Despite initial hesitation, this arrangement has strengthened their communication and marriage.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Amy Porterfield, a 47-year-old founder and online marketing expert in Nashville. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I never dreamed of becoming an entrepreneur. When I graduated, I got my first corporate job and assumed I'd climb the corporate ladder. I liked a steady paycheck, health insurance, and all the benefits of having a 9-to-5 job.

I was the director of content development for Tony Robbins for almost seven years. One day, Tony brought a group of internet marketers into a meeting. They were all successful entrepreneurs, and one thing they had in common was freedom. They called the shots, determined their hours, got to be as creative as they wanted, and didn't have to answer to anyone. For the first time in my life, I wanted that.

I decided to go out on my own. It took about a year until I found the courage to devise a plan, but when I was 31, I started my own social media consulting business.

It was the scariest thing I've ever done, but it was the best decision I ever made. Now, I support both myself and my husband, Hobie.

At the time, my husband was becoming a firefighter

When I started my business, my husband was still a general contractor and contributed to the family finances while working to become a firefighter. We don't have children together (I do have a stepson), and although I thought I might want kids one day, my desire to build something on my own, call the shots, and inspire others became bigger than my desire to have children.

I started making money in the first two years of my business, but I didn't make as much money as I thought I would. My goal wasn't to be the breadwinner of our family — I just wanted to find a way to make money on my own terms. It wasn't until the third year that I realized what I was creating could be incredibly lucrative.

As my business grew, I started to make more money than my husband

I realized I was making more money than my husband in a tax meeting. We sat in front of our accountant, who shared our yearly salaries. I surpassed my husband by a lot.

Once he became a firefighter, my husband made about $100,000 a year. In my third year in business, I made $1 million in revenue. Last year, my revenue hit $20 million.

I remember leaving that meeting and my husband saying, "I didn't realize it was that much more." I asked him if he was OK with that, and he said it was weird to know his wife made more money than him, but he was proud of me.

Each year, it became more apparent that his salary was significantly less than mine. We had to discuss our feelings about being in different roles than we thought we would be in our marriage. The conversations never got heated and he never got upset about it.

We were honest with each other that we both assumed he would make more money than me, but when things turned out differently, he celebrated my success and I kept moving forward.

We started thinking about retiring my husband

Three years ago, we moved from California to Tennessee. I can move anywhere with my job, but it wasn't easy for my husband to move to another state. As a firefighter, he would've had to start from scratch and move up the ranks again.

He's still young and loved his job, but together, we concluded that his retirement was the best decision for our family. I was more in support of it than he was in the beginning. Firefighters can be gone for 24 hours at a time, and I hated him being gone so much.

At first, he wasn't completely comfortable not making money to provide for us, but we often had to make sacrifices and change things around for his job. With my job, I can take a vacation whenever I choose and set my own hours. It just made sense so we could have more freedom.

Ultimately, it's been a good decision for us, but we were both nervous for different reasons

He was concerned with not having a job that gave him purpose. I was afraid I'd resent him for not working. I didn't want to feel frustrated that he could relax all day and do whatever he wanted.

The best thing I did was tell him the truth about this fear. He understood, and we set some guidelines. He manages our household and personal lives, and I make the money.

We clarified his new responsibilities to include errands, lawn work, laundry, appointments, car maintenance, and managing contractors and renovations. If we're going to have people over, I create the menu and the overall vibe. We manage our investments and retirement accounts together, but he pays all the bills.

These roles are very different than how I was raised. My dad was the breadwinner, and my mom stayed home to raise me and my sister. I'm living a life that is very different than what I saw growing up.

My husband is a true alpha male, but that doesn't mean he believes in traditional household roles. He was raised by a strong mom who worked outside the house and made most of their household money, so he was more open to a non-traditional dynamic.

There are challenges with our arrangement

A few times when I was working a lot and felt stressed and overwhelmed, I was jealous of his free time and less stressful days.

My favorite thing he'd say in those moments was, "How can I make this easier for you? What do you need from me?" Knowing he would help me was all I needed to know we were doing the right thing.

Sometimes, he'd love for me to shut it all down and be present with him, but I'm running a business and want and need to show up for my team. I love to work, and I love my business — it feels like an extension of me.

My husband told me he wishes he could reverse roles and succeed at my level, but that's not our reality. "You make more money in a month than I made in a year as a firefighter. Instead of wishing it was me, I choose to be proud of you, support you, and be grateful for the life we get to live," he said.

Being the breadwinner has made me a better leader, woman, wife, and friend

It's allowed me to build a business with 23 full-time employees, most of them women and many of them mothers. I'm an example of a lifestyle many women might not think possible for them.

It's also strengthened my marriage. Creating a life unlike most people's status quo forces you to communicate more, say the things you don't want to say but are necessary to grow, and show up in ways that stretch you.

The offers and details on this page may have updated or changed since the time of publication. See our article on Business Insider for current information.

• Living in a coastal state could result in higher monthly bills.
• That's according to Doxo's latest cost of bills index.
• Hawai'i, California, and Massachusetts lead the ranking.

The cost of living can vary among states, and the most expensive areas often have ocean coastlines.

Hawai'i, California, and Massachusetts are the most expensive states based on online bill-paying service Doxo's cost of bills index. The ranking, released on June 12, looks at how much the average household spends each month on the 10 most common bills, including utilities, cell phone, health insurance, and either rent or mortgage, and is based on Doxo's national bill payment statistics. Those 10 costs represent more than 75% of monthly household expenses, per Doxo.

Doxo's cost of bill index compares each state — along with cities and counties — to the national average. Hawai'i came in as the most expensive state, with the average household spending $3,091 monthly on the 10 essential bills, 45% above the US average. Meanwhile, West Virginia is the cheapest state to live in, with residents spending $1,596 monthly on bills, 25% below average.

According to Doxo's data, with additional information from the US Census Bureau, the average household now spends $2,126 monthly on the top 10 bills, up 4% from a year ago and 19% since 2019. Meanwhile, median US household income was up just 0.2% in the past year and 14% since 2019.

To be sure, many states with high living costs also have higher income levels for their residents. Doxo's index was also adjusted for the average income in each state.

Here are the 10 states with the most expensive essential monthly bills and the 10 with the cheapest.

As I'm eating roti in a booth with Joe Gow and his wife, Carmen Wilson, a man in a baseball cap approaches our table. As chancellor of the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse for 17 years, Gow is as close to royalty as this Midwestern town gets. Six-foot-four and gray-haired, sporting an ever present gold chain, he was often approached by adoring students for selfies. But when I look into the man's eyes, there is a glint of aggression.

"I was an academic for 12 years, and I always kept it in my pants," the man says.

Gow laughs, startled by the man's directness. But the stranger isn't finished. "There's a bunch of people who are very ashamed your signature is on their diploma," he says.

Gow turns serious. "I hope you realize we didn't want to make a big deal out of this," he says. "They could have come to me and said we need you to resign quietly."

Gow was the second-longest-serving chancellor in the university's history. He oversaw 10,700 students and 1,450 faculty and staff, managed an annual budget of $95 million, and kept admissions up during a period of declining college enrollment. Then, last December, someone forwarded several Pornhub links to Gow's boss, the president of the University of Wisconsin system. The porn videos had titles like "Juicy Anniversary" and "Bedroom Shenanigans." The stars of the videos were Gow, 63, and Wilson, 56.

Within weeks, Gow found himself ousted as chancellor. Headlines flooded in from all over the world: CNN, The Times of London, India Today. In La Crosse, the news was greeted with a combination of disbelief and hilarity. A group of students flew a flag with an image of Gow going down on Wilson. A local brewery released a "Hot for Chancellor" fruited sour beer; the 186 cases sold out in 40 minutes.

But Gow, who grew up wanting to be the next Bruce Springsteen, has refused to exit quietly. This spring, as campuses across the country erupted in protests over the war in Gaza and the nation grappled with the complexities of academic freedom, Gow was fighting a very different kind of First Amendment battle. And how the chancellor turned porn star winds up faring in his fight may tell us a lot about what kind of country we've become and just how far we're willing to extend the limits of free speech.

---

It's early April, and I'm sitting at the dining table in Gow and Wilson's airy home a few miles from campus. Their snow-covered backyard is visible through a stately window, photos of their grandchildren perched on a nearby ledge. Before I arrived, they asked if I wanted to watch them have sex, which they do five or six nights a week, usually just before having dinner. To my relief, they ultimately decided that doing it in front of me would be too weird. Instead, they suggest we watch them having sex on screen. As they sit beside me sipping white wine, Gow opens his laptop and cues up "Juicy Anniversary," the third professionally produced porn they shot.

Gow and Wilson met at UW-La Crosse in 2006. He was a candidate for chancellor; she was on the hiring committee. Rumors swirled that the two, both married, were having an affair, an accusation they denied. Wilson, an associate professor of psychology, served as Gow's chief of staff for two years before becoming the head of what was then UW-Rock County.

In 2011, Wilson and her second husband divorced after 20 years of marriage. Shortly after, Gow ended his marriage of 25 years. The two say they began dating in 2013, bonding over their bad marriages, their veganism, and their desire for sexual adventure. They were married in San Francisco, in a ceremony where they started on opposite sides of the Golden Gate Bridge and met in the middle. It made a BuzzFeed list of "32 Incredibly Beautiful Elopements You Have to See."

Because monogamy hadn't worked out for them, Gow and Wilson decided they were going to do things differently this time. First they tried a threesome with an ex-girlfriend of Wilson's (too awkward). Then they explored polyamory (too emotionally fraught). Finally, they tried hiring escorts (just right). They liked paying for a service, with no strings attached. But all the escorts were female, mainly because male escorts were hard to find in western Wisconsin. In search of a man for Wilson, Gow sought advice from his therapist, who suggested joining a swingers club. But they found that the other attendees, as Wilson puts it, "lacked hygiene."

Both Wilson and Gow, like most Americans, watch porn. Eventually they thought: Why not make our own? They went to Best Buy and bought a Sony camcorder.

Their connection to the porn industry began with a male stripper they paid to give them a private performance in their hotel room in Chicago, where they were attending the annual conference of the Higher Learning Commission. After the show, Gow says, the stripper was happy to get it on with Wilson for free while Gow filmed them. During a postcoital conversation, the couple shared that they were interested in making high-quality porn films of themselves. The stripper said there was another convention in town that might have what they were looking for. So after they were done with their panels on accreditation and assessment in higher education, Gow and Wilson visited the Exxxotica convention, looking to hire porn stars.

---

For their first shoot, the couple hired a 21-year-old porn actor for about $1,000 and took turns filming their sex with her. Then they spent $2,350 to hire a porn studio — camera crew, makeup, and editing — to shoot them having sex on a professional set in a penthouse loft in downtown Los Angeles. It turned them on to be watched.

Porn actors say it's fairly common for people to hire them to appear in private home videos. The industry "frowns upon" the practice, according to one veteran, viewing it as an unprofessional side hustle. But Gow and Wilson had no trouble hiring plenty of big names in the business: Gow's teenage crush Nina Hartley, young hunk Danny Mountain, newcomer India Summer, who'd had a career in finance. "We've worked with people with degrees from MIT, USC, Cal Berkeley," Gow says.

The films proved to be a middle-age sexual awakening. Wilson says she doesn't feel any jealousy when Gow is performing with porn stars. "I love to watch him fuck other women," she says. Gow feels the same way about seeing Wilson have sex with "these major stud-y guys," adding, "To watch her turn them on, I'm just like, 'Oh man, this is amazing.'" In 2016, Wilson became an administrator at Dickinson State University in western North Dakota. On days she was 700 miles away, Gow would often masturbate to their videos. "It gets you through the week," he says.

The shoots also brought out their creativity. Inspired by their love of food, they began shooting vegan cooking videos with porn stars and editing them together with their sex scenes — think Food Network meets Pornhub. In one, Gow, in a gray-checked button-down, and Wilson, in a purple top, face the camera behind a kitchen counter and explain how they're going to cook sweet-and-smoky soy-curl pizza. Then the adult star Lauren Phillips, the XBIZ 2024 MILF performer of the year, bounds into the kitchen, breasts bouncing gloriously in a cropped tank top. As Phillips kneads soy curls in a marinade of tamari, maple syrup, and liquid smoke, Wilson smiles mischievously.

"I am very hands-on," she tells Phillips.

"I would know," Phillips says.

"Wait till you've seen the scene we've shot with her," Gow says.

The couple spent some $80,000 to shoot 18 porn films. “Some people will go off on a trip to play golf," Gow says. "We’ll go off and do this video.”

Over the years, the couple spent some $80,000 to shoot 18 porn films. "Some people will go off on a trip to play golf," Gow says. "We'll go off and do this video." His porn hobby, he says, usually didn't interfere with his work as chancellor. There was one day in 2015, though, when the university was trying to finalize plans for a visit from President Barack Obama. Gow was on set in Arizona when he received a call from a staff member. He declined it, thinking it would interfere with his on-screen performance.

Though they kept their porn films secret, Gow and Wilson self-published two books about their exploits: "Monogamy with Benefits" and "Married with Benefits: Our Real-Life Adult-Industry Adventures." They were careful to use pseudonyms, Geri and Jay Hart, identifying themselves in their Amazon author bio as "a married woman and man who serve in executive positions at two well-known organizations in the US." But next to the bio, seemingly oblivious to the ways of the internet, they included a photo of themselves.

---

At their dining-room table, I sit next to Gow and Wilson as "Juicy Anniversary" starts to play. The video begins with Wilson in a slinky pink floral dress and silver heels and Gow in a beige sport coat and a white button-down. He presents her with several anniversary gifts, including a bracelet and a purple rabbit vibrator. The exchange goes on for six minutes. If you didn't know what was to come, you could be forgiven for mistaking it for a Lifetime rom-com.

Then the clothes come off. Gow, in boxers, stands behind Wilson, caressing her breasts.

At the table, Gow turns to me. "Now, me at this point, I'm like, OK, am I going to get hard?" he says. He'd taken Viagra for the shoot, but he remained worried.

In the background, Video Gow is moaning "Oh yeah" as IRL Gow says, "I've always had some ED issues."

On-screen, Gow begins to perform a variety of sexual acts on Wilson.

"Look at how well lit that is," Gow says.

IRL Wilson nods in agreement. Video Wilson moans.

"She's multi-orgasmic," Gow says.

"I wasn't always," Wilson adds. "I had to work at it."

There's a close-up on Video Gow's lower torso as he thrusts. "I like to do a lot of core," he tells me. "I want to have a flat stomach." Then he starts doing a play-by-play, like he's announcing a football game. "She has two so far," he says, counting off her orgasms, "and here comes three." As the video ends with the big finale — the money shot, as it's known in the industry — Video Gow stands above kneeling Video Wilson, arms outstretched. "It's almost Christlike," IRL Gow says.

While they kept their porn hobby hidden, it did bleed into their university life. In 2018, Gow and Wilson were filming a video with Nina Hartley when she mentioned she'd been paid to speak at schools like Dartmouth. Gow decided to bring her to UW-La Crosse for a talk called "Fantasy vs. Reality: Viewing Adult Media with a Critical Eye."

The backlash began the moment the event was announced. The chair of the faculty senate emailed Gow about his ire that "a controversial speaker" was being presented as the sole voice "of a potentially triggering subject." A student wrote that Hartley's visit "encourages behavior that promotes sexual assault."

Gow, who considers himself a champion of sex positivity, was undeterred. On the night of the event, he stood onstage in a suit and striped tie. "Sexuality, pornography: These are things that I think we need to talk about," he said. "And we have a speaker here with us to do that who is uniquely qualified on these subjects."

Hartley, then 59, blond hair cascading over her form-fitting black dress, began by leading the lecture hall in a chant. "I have a right to experience sexual pleasure," the audience intoned. Then she discussed safe sex, her experiences on set, and the fantasies depicted in porn. "There was nothing salacious about it at all," Gow says. (Hartley declined to be interviewed.)

The next day, Hartley's talk was front-page news in the La Crosse Tribune. When parents and others complained, Gow defended himself in an op-ed article, arguing that he was helping promote the university's policy of academic freedom. The university disagreed. "Your defense of your actions is just making things worse," Gow's boss, the UW president Raymond Cross, told him. Cross officially reprimanded Gow, ordered an audit of his discretionary funds, and denied him a pending raise.

Gow issued a public apology and announced he would pay Hartley's $5,000 speaking fee out of his own pocket. But the message from his superiors was clear: Even having so much as verbal intercourse with a porn star was off-limits for a university chancellor.

---

The big blowup took place last fall, after Gow announced at his annual start-of-the-school-year speech that he intended to retire as chancellor in May. He received a standing ovation. As Wilson stood beside him onstage, he mentioned that she was leaving academia and that the two of them were working on a YouTube cooking show. He, meanwhile, would remain on the faculty as a tenured professor in communications.

The accolades were universal. "When Chancellor Gow steps down next year, he will be leaving UW-La Crosse much better off than it was when he arrived," the university system's new president said. A public-radio story listing Gow's many achievements briefly mentioned the Hartley dustup. Gow spun the controversy as "very helpful," saying it had sparked global media attention for the university and elevated its commitment to free speech.

Now that their exit was pending, Gow and Wilson didn't waste any time in launching their porn career. That October, while he was still chancellor, they uploaded "Juicy Anniversary" and several other videos on LoyalFans and OnlyFans under the name SexyHappy Couple. The videos were paywalled. Only a handful of people watched.

A month later, Gow and Wilson were having dinner with their video editor. He suggested they might find a larger audience if they uploaded the videos on xHamster and Pornhub, where they could be watched for free. So the couple gave it a try, hoping they might get a few dozen views.

Several hundred people watched the first day. Within a week, 10,000 people were watching a day. Within two weeks, the views surpassed 1 million.

The couple were shocked. "We were like, holy fuck," Wilson says. "We didn't know: Does anybody want to see a couple in their 50s having sex? And the amazing thing was, yes, they did."

Then Gow realized they might have jumped the gun by posting their porn videos for free. "Sooner or later," he worried, "somebody we know is going to see this."

It was sooner. On December 19, three weeks after the videos were posted, Gow received a call from the university's legal team saying they needed to discuss a "personnel matter" with him. He didn't think much of it. As chancellor, he regularly talked to the school's lawyers. But when the meeting began over Zoom the following day, he realized it was about him. Someone had seen the videos and forwarded them to the president's chief of staff.

On the call, the deputy general counsel and the deputy HR director questioned Gow about the videos and his books, which they had also discovered. He admitted everything and cleared up a misconception. The lawyers thought — "their big concern," Gow says — that the couple had been paid by the porn studios, when in fact it was the other way around. Gow explained that he had never made more than $1,000 from his "expensive hobby," which is why he never reported it on the financial statement he was required to file each year with the state. "That seemed to satisfy my system colleagues," he later wrote in the Chronicle of Higher Education, "and they ended the meeting cordially, giving me no indication of what might happen next."

Six days later, as Gow and Wilson were flying back to La Crosse after visiting his 93-year-old mother for Christmas, Gow learned he had been fired as chancellor. The termination letter said he had failed to properly report his income from the porn videos and had violated "prohibitions for using one's public position for private benefit." The president of the university system released a statement calling Gow's actions "abhorrent."

Gow was placed on paid administrative leave for the spring semester, but he retained his status as a faculty member. Firing a tenured professor is extremely hard, for good reason. The whole point of tenure is to let faculty express themselves freely, without fear of reprisal. Termination requires just cause. Sexual assault, domestic violence, and sexual harassment all count. Consensual sexual activity doesn't. The only mention of porn in the University of Wisconsin's bylaws is a rule against watching it at work.

As part of a review of Gow's tenure, the university hired a white-shoe law firm and a forensic analyst from the publicly traded firm FTI Consulting to investigate his actions. His university-issued computer was seized, along with Wilson's. Then the most accomplished chancellor in the school's history was barred from campus, unless accompanied by a police escort.

---

The morning after I watch "Juicy Anniversary" at their dining table, Gow takes me to Planet Fitness. He wants to show me his workout routine. As Gow does mountain climbers, his skinny legs pumping, his longtime trainer, Tony Tomich, offers a full-throated defense of his client. Gow and Wilson's porn "wasn't hurting anyone," Tomich tells me. "It's sad in this day and age, in a university environment, where you're supposed to be open minded. This isn't Communist China."

Many on campus echo those concerns. After Gow's workout, I head to the student center to meet Easton Moberg, a sophomore who has covered the Gow scandal as managing editor of the student newspaper, The Racquet Press. The first thing I notice in his office is a brochure from the women's and gender studies department pinned to a wall: "Your Comprehensive Guide to Clitoral Masturbation and Other Pleasures." A recent issue of the paper featured a satirical story with a photo of Gow, Wilson, and Nina Hartley under the headline "Gow to Teach Culinary Class."

Moberg tells me he used to have a flag with Gow's face on it pinned inside the house he shared with fellow students. Gow "was just well respected," he says. "Students loved him." After the porn became public, he and his friends found the situation "hilarious." His roommate began "cranking out memes instantly." Still, Moberg doesn't think Gow should be stripped of tenure. "I am pro-First Amendment," he says. "I have the right to speak freely and write freely. He should be able to do whatever he wants to do freely as well."

The next day, a janitor in the student center tells me he feels the same way about Gow's indiscretions. "I don't think what he did was right, but that was his own private thing," he says. "If you don't like what someone's doing, just go to another website, just keep your mouth shut. You don't need to set someone up and take them down."

He gestures to an empty wall that used to contain portraits of past chancellors. "Gow was here," he says, pointing to a blank spot that has been repainted eggshell white.

In March, the university completed its investigation and provided Gow with a copy of its report, which stretches to 318 pages. After watching over 11 hours of the couple's porn, the investigators demurely concluded that the "dialog and video content would likely be considered offensive to many but were not likely illegal." Nonetheless, the report brims with salacious details, couched in a kind of tortured bureaucratic prudery unseen since the Starr Report. Breasts are "torsos"; scenes end with various things being "consumed." Twenty-five pages are devoted to sex-toy marketing emails that were sent to Gow's and Wilson's university email addresses. The emails featured images of vibrators, pocket pussies, and vibrating asses. Gow says he never visited porn sites while at work. The university's president, general counsel, and interim chancellor all declined to comment for this story.

Gow plans to defend himself at a tribunal over his tenure. "It's kind of the trial of Socrates," he says with characteristic modesty.

The university offered to settle the case without issuing charges if Gow would agree to retire from the faculty. When he refused, he was charged with 21 violations of university policy, including refusing to cooperate with the investigation, receiving emails containing pornographic images on university computers, engaging in "unethical and potentially illegal conduct" by paying to have sex with female escorts and strippers and paying for Wilson to have sex with a male escort, and damaging the university's reputation by making porn and posting it online. The university also complained, somewhat penuriously, that Gow "took a large volume of leftover catered wine from the Chancellor's Box" after two football games.

Gow decided to fight his dismissal on First Amendment grounds. On April 17, he formally requested a public hearing to review his termination as a tenured faculty member. Under the university's rules, a faculty member will chair the tribunal, which is scheduled to convene on June 19, and each side will have three hours to present its case. It will be the state's first hearing over a faculty member's tenure in 23 years, and the first ever over porn.

"It's kind of the trial of Socrates," Gow says with characteristic modesty. "It was about corrupting the morals of youth. They wanted me to drink the hemlock." He plans to defend himself at the hearing, as Socrates did, and he believes the tribunal will ultimately see that, as he recently told a local La Crosse news station, "what a couple does on their vacation, on their own time with their own money and on social media, that's their own business, and that shouldn't disqualify one from being a faculty member."

Gow may be right. But it's a tough sell at a moment when leading universities across the country are under attack by the far right. Experts are skeptical that Gow will prevail on free-speech grounds. "Being in a pornographic movie is generally not viewed as speech on matters of public concern," says Eugene Volokh, a First Amendment scholar at Stanford. He points to the precedent set by City of San Diego v. Roe, where the Supreme Court determined that a police officer could be fired for selling videos of himself masturbating on eBay.

---

Whatever the outcome of the hearing, Gow and Wilson have already paid a steep price for their perceived transgressions. Wilson's 37-year-old daughter didn't speak to her for five months and has cut her off from contact with her two young grandchildren. "I want to hurt you as much as you hurt me," her daughter told her. Gow's mother called him "disgusting." Wilson's 82-year-old mother, Diane, wouldn't speak to her daughter for a month. When she finally relented, she wrapped Wilson in a hug and said, "Your reputation is ruined."

Before I leave La Crosse, I pay one last visit to Gow and Wilson's home, where they and Diane are having their Sunday-night ritual of wine and snacks. "I decided I wasn't going to lose my relationship with them," Diane says. "I told them, I'm not condoning what you've done. But I will accept it." What upsets her most is that her daughter and granddaughter aren't speaking to each other.

"I want to have a relationship with her, but she won't talk to me," Wilson says.

"She has that right," Diane says.

"We need to have a conversation," Wilson says. They both begin to cry.

"This is the worst part of the whole situation," Gow says. "I really love those kids too. To just be shut out" — his voice breaks, and he joins the weeping.

As Diane is on her second glass of red, she tells me about how she remained a virgin in college. "We had zero sex education," she says. "I lived on a farm, and that's how I learned, watching the animals."

Her phone rings — her granddaughter, Wilson's daughter, is FaceTiming her. Diane walks into the living room to take the call.

I ask Gow and Wilson if I can see their OnlyFans. Gow logs in, showing me a chart of their subscribers. "You know what that bump is?" he says. "That's the day they fired me and it got into the media. We went from 24 subscribers to 9,666 literally overnight." In two months, they made $60,000 from the platform. They've also signed with Sssh.com, a porn studio for women and couples.

"We didn't get into this for the money," Gow says. "But when my job is under threat and our health insurance is under threat, it's good to be able to make, like, $300 a day."

And therein lies the rub, as it were. If Gow and Wilson had managed to keep their porn careers secret for a few more months, their videos wouldn't be generating nearly as much revenue as they are now. Gow could have stepped down to widespread acclaim before going on to a second act that combined recipes for vegan country-style ribs with scenes of graphic sexual acts. He and Wilson wouldn't be as famous. And they wouldn't be engaged in a battle over free speech. But they would still have their family.

In the dining room, Gow shows me one of their most popular videos on LoyalFans: a threesome with Lauren Phillips. Wilson peers into the living room, watching her mother sing "Uh-Oh SpaghettiOs" with her grandchildren.

---

Hallie Lieberman is a sex historian and journalist. She's the author of Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy.

On Monday, as part of its Worldwide Developers Conference, Apple unveiled software features for its various products, including the iPhone and the iPad. The most anticipated part of the show was getting details on how the company would integrate artificial intelligence into its phones and operating systems.

During the presentation, Apple executives showed off how the tech giant's AI system — which they pointedly referred to as Apple Intelligence instead of artificial intelligence — could help with searching texts and photos, creating images, fixing grammar and spelling, summarizing text, and editing photos.

After the announcement, tech pundits, extremely online billionaires, and cheap seats the world over complained that the features were small potatoes. CNET's Katie Collins wrote that Apple's most interesting new features were long overdue, summing up her reaction as "finally." Bloomberg's Mark Gurman called them "minor upgrades." My colleague Jordan Hart said they weren't the silver bullet Apple needed to reinvigorate the company. And Elon Musk registered his disappointment by sharing a stupid meme. In sum, many people are underwhelmed by Apple's practical integration of AI. Sure, maybe summarizing long emails and making transcripts of calls sounds boring compared with conjectures that AI could be used to detect cancer earlier, but guess what? Apple's scale and specificity of vision also make it the first Big Tech company to get AI integration right.

Apple is using AI to do what the technology has proved it can do: be an assistant. Yes, the virality of OpenAI's ChatGPT-3 put AI's potential on display. But using AI to power a robot that does your chores or to answer open-ended questions is still extremely imperfect. Chatbots lie, they hallucinate, they tell my colleagues to eat glue. Google's rollout and subsequent rollback of offering AI answers to people's search queries is just one sign that the current iteration of the tech isn't ready for all the use cases Silicon Valley is dreaming about — to say nothing of the venture capitalist Marc Andreessen's claims that AI will be able to "save the world," "improve warfare," and become our therapists, tutors, confidants, and collaborators, ushering in a "golden age" of art.

Apple's updates are an appeal for everyone to get a grip. They are a clarion call for other tech companies to be practical with what they promise consumers and to deliver AI products that make our lives incrementally easier instead of confusing us with overpromises. Apple's use of the best of AI is also the best way for normal people to develop an understanding of what it can do. This is a way to build trust. Sure, maybe one day AI will figure out how to destroy civilization or whatever, but right now it's best at finding that photo of your dog dressed as a pickle you took back in 2019. And for the vast majority of people, that's perfectly fine.

What does AI do?

The fact that people are disappointed in Apple says more about the hype around AI's capabilities than it does about Apple. Musk has since 2019 been promising that Tesla will make a self-driving robocar, and for even long he's been overselling his driver-assistance technology as "autopilot." OpenAI's internal arguments turned palace intrigue turned media fodder are mostly centered on concern for the speed at which AI's supposedly fearsome power will reshape humanity, not the limitations of its current practical application. The biggest models, the most powerful Nvidia chips, the most talented teams poached from the hottest startups — that is the drumbeat of AI news from Silicon Valley and Wall Street. We've seen tech hype cycles before; they're mostly about raising money and selling stock. Only time will tell if the investments Wall Street and Silicon Valley are making in AI infrastructure will actually produce commensurate returns. That's how this game goes.

Apple's updates are an appeal for everyone to get a grip.

But in all that noise, the reality of what AI is good (and bad) at right now has gotten lost — especially when it comes to the large language models that undergird most of the new AI tools consumers will use, like virtual assistants and chatbots. The tech is based on pattern recognition: Rather than make value judgments, LLMs simply scan a vast library of information they've hoovered — books, webpages, speech transcripts — and guess which word most logically comes next in the chain. There is an inherent limitation in that design. Sometimes facts are improbable, but what makes them facts is that they are provable. It might not make sense that Albany, not New York City, is the capital of the state of New York, but it's a fact. It might make sense to use glue, an adhesive, to stick cheese on pizza, if you're a robot with no context for what "food" is. But that's definitely not how it's done. Such as they are, large language models can't make this value judgment between pattern and fact. It's unclear whether they'll ever be able to. Yann LeCun, Meta's lead AI scientist and one of the "godfathers of AI," has said that LLMs have a "very limited understanding of logic" and that they "do not understand the physical world, do not have persistent memory, cannot reason in any reasonable definition of the term and cannot plan." He has also said they cannot learn anything beyond the data they're trained on — anything new or original — which makes them mentally inferior to a house cat.

In other words, they're not perfect.

Enter Apple, a company known for a culture of perfection. It was slow to embrace the hype surrounding AI, and, as I mentioned, for a while it refused to use the term "artificial intelligence," instead preferring the long dethroned, snoozefest name "machine learning." Apple started developing its own generative AI after ChatGPT-3 launched in 2022, but it revealed the new features only when it felt they were good and ready. This tech is what will power features like Genmoji, which allows you to describe a custom emoji to fit whatever's going on and then creates it — say, one of you crying while eating an entire pizza. It will also power more-practical applications, like writing an email to your boss when you're sick or pulling up that link your mom sent you in a text message. Right now, these basic call-and-response applications are the things at which LLMs excel.

Apple's rigorous standards serve as a way to firmly establish AI's present capabilities — or limitations, depending on how you see the glass.

If you want to use the latest Apple products to get into the freakier and more fungible world of talking to a chatbot, Siri will call up ChatGPT for you and let you run wild. This is Apple making a clear delineation between where its reliability ends and where a world of technological inconsistency begins. For Apple, this distinction makes sense. It wants its products to be associated with cutting-edge technology but also efficacy and productivity.

The distinction, however, does not serve the rest of Silicon Valley or their venture-capital investors. Anyone fundraising or investing in this technology would prefer you see the capabilities and value of AI as a moving target — specifically moving up, to the right, and fast. Apple's rigorous standards serve as a way to firmly establish AI's present capabilities — or limitations, depending on how you see the glass. The alternative is what we're seeing at other companies, where users are guinea pigs, used to working with tech that makes them question what they see. Societies around the world are already grappling with a crisis of faith in institutions; faulty AI just spreads that mistrust wider and faster. It's another stone in the wall between people's faith and what they read on the internet. In that way, Apple's cautious approach may be a service for the rest of the tech industry. By slowly acclimatizing its constellation of users to AI that makes their lives better instead of frustrating them, Apple makes the tech feel like a natural upgrade instead of an unreliable, scary intrusion.

Sure, Apple's AI may not be sexy or scary, but at least it doesn't seem stupid. Ideally, that means it won't make our world any stupider either.

---

Linette Lopez is a senior correspondent at Business Insider.

• Seb lives in Hamburg, Germany but works in London.
• After his team switched to more in-person work this year, he started commuting five hours to the office.
• It allows him to live with his partner in Hamburg while keeping the job he loves in London. 

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Seb, 32, about his commute from Hamburg to London for work. He chronicles the commute on TikTok. The following has been edited for length and clarity. He wishes to keep his last name anonymous, but Business Insider has verified his identity and his employment.

After meeting my partner while traveling a few years ago, my being English and her being German meant that we spent a lot of time flitting between both countries.

When Brexit rules came in, restricting the number of days UK residents could spend in the European Union, I made the choice to become a resident of Germany. It meant I could spend time in the EU without stressing that I was overstaying.

But I didn't want to quit my role as a director of a company in London.

Immediately moving back to London wasn't an option. My partner is a doctor in Germany, so it's a lot harder for her to up sticks and come to work in the UK.

However, my team was switching back to in-person work, so it wasn't particularly fair for me to work completely remotely.

My company and I decided that I'd switch to coming into the office three days a week, two or three times a month. That way, I'd be able to collaborate with my teammates and take meetings in the office.

So, around January of this year, I started doing my super commute— a five-hour journey that takes me from my home in Hamburg to my office in the UK and then back again after 3 days.

And then, as a bit of fun to add some enjoyment to the long commute, I decided to start documenting it on TikTok and challenge myself to beat my time. There was a lot more interest in the videos than I thought there would be.

The travel day

I usually don't bother booking too far in advance.

My fastest time so far has been four hours and 44 minutes, and the longest has been close to six hours. Luckily, I've managed to avoid any big travel delays so far.

Monday is always a long day, especially considering Germany is one hour ahead. I wake up at 4 a.m. (3 a.m. UK time) to begin my journey to work.

Of course, I pack all my belongings the night before. Being an efficient packer is a necessary part of having a super commute.

It's a waste to bring a checked bag just for three nights. I can be a bit of a nerd about this sort of thing: I've got a carry-on roller suitcase that converts to a backpack, so I can cycle to and from the station in Hamburg. I also keep things in the office, like a toiletry bag and gym sneakers.

All that forward planning means I'm out the door within 30 minutes. I hop on an hour-long train to the airport, and at this point, I only bother arriving an hour before takeoff.

My many frequent flying miles have earned me enough British Airways airline points to access free fast-track security.

I rush through security, grab a coffee, then go through passport control. I aim to spend as little time there as possible without missing my flight.

I'm still one of the first people to arrive at the office in the morning

The flight typically takes off around 6:40 a.m., and it takes just one hour and 20 minutes to get to London Heathrow — unfortunately, there aren't any flights from Hamburg Airport to the more convenient London City Airport.

You may think that I'd be more productive during the five-hour commute. But I usually just take the time to watch Netflix or something on the flight.

By 7 a.m., I've landed in London. I speed through passport control. Then, jump on whichever train is available to hop onto the tube straight through to Canary Wharf.

That adds another hour to the journey, so I tend to get to the office in time to clock on at 9 a.m.

To the annoyance of my colleagues, I'm often the second or third person to arrive.

Then after all that, I have to start the working day.

I work until around 6 p.m. or 7 p.m. and head to check in to a nearby hotel. Now that I go so often, I've found a favorite — just a 10-minute walk away from the office

It's not cheap, but I wouldn't change the situation

The 3-night trip comes to slightly over £500 ($636). Return flights are around £150 ($190), and the hotel is £120 ($150) per night, plus some extra money spent on public transport on either side.

I negotiated with my company to have them foot the bill for the commute, but it is then reflected in my salary. If I lived in England, I definitely would earn more.

It's a temporary measure. The plan for the future is to move back to England, so ideally, it'll be a maximum of one more year doing this long commute.

I get to live the best of both worlds, even though it can't last forever

At the moment, I get the best of both worlds: experiencing living in a different country, immersing myself in a new culture, and learning a new language, all while being able to keep my job in London, which is my home city and a city that I love.

I try to make the most of my time in London; I meet friends and family after work to catch a football game or go for a drink, even if I'm tired. But living between two countries comes at a cost financially and timewise as well.

Hamburg is a lot cleaner than London, and the roads are a lot quieter. But there's not a huge draw for me to stay in Hamburg — the taxes are still high, and the weather is equally bad. It's not like I ended up with someone Spanish and got to live in a sunny beach destination in Spain.

Ultimately, my life is in England, and I miss my friends and family. It's not sustainable to keep with the commute forever.

For now, it's fun to document my journey on TikTok and experience living in Germany, even if it's inconvenient. But a five-hour commute is not something I'd recommend to others.

• I wanted a big family, but my husband wasn't so sure.
• We decided we were done having kids. Then, I felt a little off one day and realized I was pregnant.
• I was nervous to tell him, but when I did, he was thrilled. We had a girl and named her Lily.

I always liked the idea of having a bigger family. I'm the youngest of five kids, and growing up, I enjoyed the noise and chaos in our household. I loved having multiple siblings to seek advice from and to have fun with.

While my husband also came from a bigger family with four children, he was satisfied with two kids. After the birth of our second child, he said he felt like he didn't have the energy for another baby at the age of 40.

So, there we were — both with different visions for our family. I wanted another baby to love, but I also respected my husband's wishes and let it go. Fate had other plans.

I found myself pregnant and wasn't sure how to tell him

One day, I was doing the dishes at my mother-in-law's house when I started to feel a bit off. I'd been drinking alcohol, but it wasn't a drunk kind of feeling. More lightheaded and a little bit nauseous.

The next day, I decided to do a pregnancy test. Sure enough, I was pregnant. I was so excited about the news, but I wasn't sure about how my husband would take it.

We were on holiday at the time, and I decided to wait until we returned home to Melbourne to tell my husband I was pregnant. When I walked in the door of our rental, he took one look at me and knew immediately something was up.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, and started making dinner.

I've never had a good poker face, and he can read me like a book. As I brought out the plates and we sat down outside together to eat, he kept looking at me over the table. "Are you sure nothing's happened?" he asked.

I started rambling about all sorts of random things. "Do you believe in destiny?" I asked.

"I guess…" he replied hesitantly, taking a sip of his drink. At that point, I could see he was getting really worried. I knew I had to spill the beans.

"I'm pregnant," I said, holding my breath.

My husband jumped up and scooped me up in his arms. He said he was so relieved that the news was a baby and not something sinister, like a terminal disease.

"OK, we can do this," he whispered into my ear, holding me tight. A wave of relief drifted over me, and suddenly, I felt very excited. He actually seemed excited, too.

He was thrilled with the news, even if being an older parent has its challenges

A few weeks later, we shared the news with my son, then 6, and daughter, then 3. They were over the moon. As the months passed and my belly grew bigger, I could feel my husband's excitement continue to grow too. At night, he would lie with his head in my lap, chatting to baby No. 3, whose sex we kept a surprise until the end.

In August 2022, our baby girl came into the world. We called her Lily.

From the moment she was born, my husband and I were completely besotted with her. Almost two years on, she is the light of our lives and completely adored by us and her two siblings.

Being an older parent has its challenges. I was 37 when Lily was born, and my husband was 40. Neither of us has the energy we had when we had at the time our other kids were born, and most nights, we fall into bed utterly exhausted after chasing a toddler around all day.

But there are also lots of positives to being an older parent. For one, we're more relaxed and definitely in a better position financially than we were when we unexpectedly fell pregnant with baby No. 1.

No matter how old you are when you have a child, there's one thing that's timeless — and that's the love you feel for your child. That love is immeasurable and infinite, and it gets you through all of the hard times. It makes it all worthwhile.