It happened. Hubby and I hit middle age and despite all the articles that proclaimed our sex life would improve once the kids were grown, it’s instead hit rock bottom.
All the crap about rediscovering our bodies without the hang-ups of dating? For all the rediscovering we’re doing, our bodies might as well be hung-up in closets. In opposite rooms.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that we’re lacking in the desire department or that there’s a shortage of those frisky moments, they just always seem to occur 30 seconds before Middle Son pops in for one of his rare visits. (Because it’s the week before payday and he’s looking for a free meal.) Or we start with the “love eyes” just as a family friend pulls up in the drive.
If I thought it’d help, I’d take those articles that talk about acting like kids again literally and try the teenagers-in-a-parked-car routine, but neither of us are that flexible anymore. Besides, I can only imagine the conversation if we got busted!
Officer: Excuse me, but can you explain yourselves?
Hubby: We’re hiding from our kids.
Officer: Your windows are steamed and I heard . . .
Me: Yeah well, all the heavy breathing from trying to climb in the backseat kinda steamed up the windows and then my hip went out. That would’ve been the groaning.
Officer: Um . . . do you need me to call someone for assistance?
Definitely NOT the hot date night we had envisioned.
The sad truth is, the biggest hurdle to our special alone time is WE’RE NEVER ALONE!
Oh, we’ve tried sneaking off to the boudoir in the middle of the day, since all the books say it’s good to be spontaneous. Which would be how our 24-year-old son ended up walking in on us. (Not only did he walk in, but after he closed the door, he went right on ahead and asked where whatever-it-was-he-was-looking-for was located. SERIOUSLY!?!)
I’m not sure what it’s gonna take to clear the house and keep it cleared for one single day, but I’m thinking instituting a Mandatory Nude Day might be a good start. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure our friends and family might wanna avoid that painful sight.
Or maybe I need to make a sign to hang on our bedroom door:
If the door’s locked, don’t even knock!
Although, seeing as our door doesn’t lock, maybe I should go with something more obvious:
WARNING! Middle-Aged Sex In Progress.
For now I have to have faith that, one fine day, the revolving door of our home will slow to a standstill and we’ll find ourselves in possession of all the alone time a couple could ever dream of. I only hope it happens before we’re old enough that we’ll have to hire stand-ins to use it.
Image credit: istock.com/monkeybusinessimages.