You (TheodoreClancy) requested; I delivered.
Last weekend after a roll in the hay, Boyfriend and I were in the bathroom getting ready to go to a barbecue.
He said, “That’s the kind of sex I wish I could tell my friends about.”
I replied, “Why can’t you tell them about it?” (I already knew the answer, though he wouldn’t admit it: he’s a gentleman, though I am obviously not a lady, which is why I’m blogging about this.)
“What would I say? Spring and I had sex again? And it was awesome again?”
“Sure. Why not? I used to tell my friends about our sex. I’d come back from a weekend and be like, ‘EIGHT TIMES.'”
“Really? You’d tell them that?”
“Yeah, but I don’t anymore because I began to feel like I was bragging because they’re married.”
“What does being married have to do with it?”
“Oh, you know…”
And then I saw the expression on his face and realized that because he’s never been married, he does not know.*
I was going to say something like, “You’ll understand eventually,” but the truth is that I hope he never does.
*I fully concede that some married people do have awesome sex regularly. I will posit, however, that this is quite rare.