The Tide Must Be Out

I just realized that my husband and I haven’t had any remarkable sexual encounters lately.

Oh, we’ve had plenty of sexual encounters, they’re just not very remarkable. In fact, you could probably say they were bordering on the mundane.

I wish that I could teach my husband how to use a digital camera. Then he could take pictures of my ass like another well-known blogger’s husband takes of her ass. You can check that out HERE. My husband has a camera in his phone, but the only photos on it are those that I or my daughter took. He is using my old cell phone, the one I gave up when I got my BlackBerry. Once I sent him a photo of San Francisco taken from the top of Twin Peaks. This was back in April 2005. He’s never figured out how to open it. I used to text message him, because if he’s teaching a class, he can’t be disturbed by a phone call. Again, he’s never figured out how to read my messages.

Speculation is that office sex must becoming ho-hum. I’m sure I could get into it more if he could take me on his desk. We used to do it there, because we often couldn’t make it across the room to the couch in time. Unfortunately, right now his desk is covered with papers, pens, crap, crap and more crap. If the contents of his desk were in a house, it would be a garbage house, no doubt. I’m not sure what color the desktop is. If I were to sit on it today, I’d likely break something either on me or on the desk.

We could move over to my office, but I don’t have any comfortable furniture in it. Since I do a lot of layout, I mostly have tables. Tables are hard and cold. The floor is an option, but my rug needs cleaning in the worst way. We had our Christmas party in there, and I think someone spilled something made from cranberries. Anyway, I’m too old to be having sex on the floor.

We’ve done it in the car, which is not very comfortable either, especially in the wintertime. Our winters are brutally cold, and you have to be really horny to have sex when it’s any degree below 32. When you get to be my age, comfort is of utmost consideration. After seeing “Titanic” where the two lovers do it in a car (and someone’s hand wipes the steam away from the window), I lost my enthusiasm for in-the-car sex. If my ship were going down, I think I’d be looking for a life jacket and a sturdy boat and not to get my rocks off. We’ve also done it on the car. (Don’t worry, folks. The car was parked in the garage. The garage door was closed.) My personal tip: if you’re going to do it on your car, make sure you’ve taken it to the car wash first.

Perhaps we could move from his office into a classroom. The thought of having sex where teenagers normally congregate is so very wrong. Teenagers equals hormones. It’s so wrong, it just might get the juices flowing again.

The one thing they say about the tide is always true. If the tide is out, it will no doubt come back in again, sometime.

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