I guess I never mentioned why I started this blog. I made the stupid mistake of asking Laura, my best friend who knows me better that I do (or my mother, despite what she thinks), about her sex life. She immediately turned the question around on me, saying no one asks about other people’s sex lives unless theirs is faltering. Twenty minutes later, she convinced me I should write this blog as a way to vent frustrations, pass advice and release thought streams. And here I am doing it.

I don’t know what my so-called frustrations are. Things in life are great. I got my spot back in Pilates yesterday (the newbie was too chicken to show up!). My wine tasting club is taking a trip to Napa next year. Our Jack Russell, Whiskey, was just neutered, so he’s much less rambunctious (amazing what a couple less testes can do). Steven’s doing great. We’re great. See, Steven and I are totally on the same wavelength. Which is pretty amazing in a marriage. I mean, it’s like we just get it. Sex has gone from the left lane (speeding) to the middle lane (cruising). But at least it’s not the right lane (snail-paced Pinto). I remember when we used to leave hotel rooms in shambles, like rock stars at the Chelsea: Vidal Sassoon conditioner dripping from nightlights, the bed linens in a bathtub full of martini stemware, and once we left the Hilton with Nutella stains on the muslin curtains…

Anyway, the point is, we’ve always known it takes two to get the marriage in cruise control without any sudden breaks. Things started with both of us chipping in to help each other move forward, climb all those friggin’ ladders, and that’s how it continues today. I mean, thank God I was in the position to put him through grad school for an MBA and that my family could help us buy this house. But now, with Steven making a solid living and my real estate business starting to roll, our kids will never have to worry.

Maybe Laura suggested I write this because we don’t have kids…yet. But we will, soon. See, here’s what I was saying: Steven and I already know we want kids, we know we like living out here and Steven really does love the commute. And I don’t need NYC on a daily basis. All I need is an occasional tune-up: a Magnolia cupcake, a $780.00 stroll down Fifth Ave, and a museum or two. Anyway, my point is that once we get pregnant, it won’t feel like we were forced to do anything for the baby. It’ll be the baby adjusting to our lives, not the other way around. There won’t be any residual resentment going on whatsoever – something I hear really messes up couples a lot these days. It’s one thing to tell him he’s going to be a father. It’s whole different solar system when you tell him he’s going to be a father and you take him further away from work, Shea Stadium and the bars he and his friends have grown to love. Right now he's a great father - to his fantasy baseball team. Doting and loving and totally obsessed...

Well, I don’t know if I really explained why I started writing this but I have to say, I kind of like it. As you can tell, I’m not frustrated, as Laura suggested. And I know she didn’t really mean it that way. But there’s something nice about getting up and writing whatever the hell I want when I feel like it. And knowing that there’s someone out there reading it. Maybe it’s a bit vain but it’s an indulgence I think I can allow for. Right?