I had to accept this fact when we failed to meet a simple goal we had set for ourselves: to have sex five times a day each day of the holiday weekend. It seemed so simple; left to our own devices we usually do it two to three times a day on weekends. There was no reason not to be able to pound out (pardon my pun) more when we set our minds and genitalia to it. No reason, except of course, the fact that we are no longer 21 years old.
We have responsibilities.
We have social lives.
We have age-appropriate energy levels.
We have no desire to injure ourselves in the pursuit of cheap thrills.
I can't be the one who actually said that! Me? The girl who spent her twenties pitting her cardiovascular system against an endless supply of cocaine just for jollies? The same girl who engaged in random sex with a parade of clowns she met on AFF?
Yes, I said it.
Believe me, we tried, even though life conspired against us. PSD spent Saturday morning sick as a dog. Sunday was a day full of social engagements. Today was lazy and delicious. We tried, even going as far as sneaking off to a guest bathroom at the party last night. But we're not teenagers. We're not even in our twenties anymore. Hell, we're barely in our thirties anymore.
What we are is savvy. We're comfortable in our own skins. We're confident. We're compatible. We're satisfied in every way. We're just fine with the fact that we can't do it five times a day. We can take pride in the fact that we had a lot of fun trying...and we came damn close.