So I was on the phone with my sister, Robynn, who lives in the city and out of the blue, asked me about Steven and our sex life. I mean, I love my sister but I’m not into spreading the gossip on my sex life with her. Seriously, does she call my brother and ask him the same thing?? So I promptly told Robynn it’s great. She tried to pry but I told her I had a house to show and that I’d call her later. Ah, siblings.

So let me say this: our sex life has always been pretty steamy. I didn’t start as the most experienced woman, but with Steven, I became one. We update a checklist of positions that he keeps in his blackberry, “PalmaSutra,” we like to amalgamate toys with our love-making and we don’t only use the bedroom. Lately, though, our love-making has been occasional. Okay, I’ll be blunt: almost never is about right. It’s gotten to the point that we connect maybe once a month. Okay, once every two months. On average. And it’s always in the bedroom, in bed and there’s nothing to check off in the PalmaSutra anymore. Steven’s exhaustion from work sends me retreating to the bathroom to abandon my fishnet stockings, dental-floss G-strings and mechanic’s jump-suit (don’t ask) on a number of occasions. Yet he finds the time to pore over spreadsheets for two hours in bed. I didn’t get it when it first started. He never used to pass up “Lil’ Bunny’s Garage” for Focused Valuation Input Analysis. But now, I realize it’s that he’s working even harder so that our kids and our future will be totally secure. I mean, it could be worse. I was watching some nature show the other day about flounder. You know the fish they serve at Red Lobster. Anyway, flounder lay around on the bottom of the ocean floor all year. They mate once a year. Once! The rest of the time they just lay on the ocean floor. Once a year!

But the thing is, it’s really getting unfair for me too. I thought about it this morning. I mean, even in Nantucket during our vacation we barely had sex once! I didn't want to over-analyze it but I was the Grey Lady on that island. It took place in the morning and I think Steven fell back asleep during the process. In his defense, we did a lot during the day... I think.

Anyway, I realized that the only thing that makes me feel good is writing this blog. Better than Pilates, which I can’t make myself go to today. And you know what’s funny? When I had my sex-revelation this morning, it was after walking Whiskey. We walked into the house and Whiskey (without his testes) began humping the leg of the couch. I laughed so hard, I almost cried. Actually, I did cry. I mean, from laughter, of course. And then, after that, I cried for like an hour. I don’t know. That seems to be happening a lot lately, for no reason whatsoever. I hope it stops soon. Maybe I’ll motivate for Pilates after all. There’s been too much ice cream entering this house, my mouth and hence my ass. Maybe I should try the couch leg to burn some calories.