Ah sex. One of the only real and true perks of marriage. Why do I say it like that? Well, because it’s fun, entertaining, free and it feels good. Everything else in a marriage…well, not always so fun, sometimes entertaining, maybe cheap but not always free and sometimes, I would rather stick my face through plate glass. Or is that just me?
When you first start seeing each other. Say, after the 3rd date or so, you start a new phase of this budding relationship. Screwing. Yeah, you know you didn’t wait that long either! Anywhere and everywhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s high noon on a Saturday, the shades are up and the neighbor that lives a split hair away is out watering his garden. Yet, he isn’t paying attention to his impatiens and weeping cherries! No, he’s watching your naked body move up and down in the window. But you don’t care. Because tomorrow, same time, same place, with your new lovers butt as the window display.
Then. A couple of weeks later. You decide you’re in love. You can’t live without each other. You’re having the best sex of your adult life. And you…even swallow.
You. Get married. Ironically, you wear a white gown. Even though you haven’t been a virgin since 2 weeks after your 16th birthday. Listen lady, just because you didn’t have sex the night before your wedding, it hardly means you’ve revirginized.
Sex. It’s still good. Actually, it’s even better. There is a certain comfort level knowing you’re screwing the shit out of your spouse. It’s still happening all the time. Every day. And condoms? The sponge? The rhythm method? Pull out? It doesn’t matter. It’s all good. EXCEPT the sponge. Those things sucked.
Oops. You get knocked up. Turns out, of all crazy things, on the honeymoon.
Pregnant sex. Intense orgasms. But it gets a little strange as you get rounder. Also, when the baby is practically hanging out of your vagina and your husband can actually feel the baby’s head with the tip of his penis.
Things start to change. The frequency. The intensity.
You were used to pouncing on each other on top of the take out Chinese food on the dining room table. Any time, any place. Within reason, of course. But certainly there were not many things to keep you both from passionate embraces. Or just quickies.
Now. You have a baby. You have to wait 6 weeks to resume activities. Even though you’re bleeding for even longer than that. Not to mention that the baby is constantly suckling at your breast, barely leaving any time or energy to get back into the loving mood.
But finally. You want your husband again. Badly. And he wants you. Badly. You’re getting hot and heavy. And the baby.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
So you unlock yourselves from each other. You go get the wee little one. You nurse. You lay that sweet baby down in the middle of your bed.
And you both rendezvous on the floor to finish the business at hand. While the baby sleeps soundly in your bed. Oblivious to what his parents are partaking in.
It continues like this for a couple of years. Yet. You’re still able to have sex, regardless of the fact that you are both exhausted from life as a family, on a regular basis. High five for that one. And oral sex.
The kid gets so big so fast. Another couple of brats…er…offspring come along. It’s a noisy, full, fulfilling household.
He brings home the bacon. You burn it in the pan. OK. No one taught you how to cook and you don’t understand what the big deal is if you order in pizza every night. You LOVE pizza.
But you notice that you are starting to get a FUPA. Too many pups and too much pizza are to blame. Well, that. And the fact that working out isn’t in your game plan. Nursing and chasing around kids definitely doesn’t help in the weight loss. Not when your eating the buttery crusts from the copious amounts of grilled cheese sandwiches your kids want to eat, morning, noon and night.
The kids grow. So do you. Actually, so does your husband, now that it’s been brought to your attention.
For awhile, the kids went to sleep early. And slept through the night. You were having a grand old time testing out toys and having relations regularly. Just like old times.
The only thing you had to cut out was morning sex. Getting busted too many times by your precocious kids while you were “cuddling”. And yes honey, moms and dads cuddle naked. Yes honey, Daddy likes to be on top of Mommy when we are cuddling. Run along and watch television. When we’re done “cuddling” we’ll come make you breakfast.
The kids are older. They know that you aren’t really cuddling. They know that Mommy isn’t really singing. They know that Daddy doesn’t have a splinter in his penis.
Then. They become teens. Who never sleep. Ever. Not even a little bit.
Even worse. You aren’t young anymore. And you need to sleep. A lot.
So their waking hours and your waking hours means…
They need to be sent away to boarding school if you want to schtup before 11pm and still get 8 hours of sleep. For real, you need your sleep. And they don’t seem to need theirs.
When you are able to have sex. Not 2 or 3 times a week anymore. Like when the kids were young. You have to shut the door, lock it, soundproof the room. Plus, you have to lock your kids in their rooms because they like to put their ear to the door and giggle at the fact their parents are doing what they learned about in Family Life. Sex.
This. Will continue for a few years.
Until finally. They leave. They go off to college. They get lives of their own. And I’m not even going there with them and sex.
But you? By now, you’re just to fricking tired and old to have sex as often as you did when you were young.
Here’s hoping though. That it will resemble, a little bit. With fine lines, wrinkles and all. The pre-kid days of intimacy.
Only then, you can romp at 9, catch the news and weather, and get a good nights sleep. Assuming you can sleep because, from what I understand, old people don’t sleep. They just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.
Oh, the things to look forward to.