This post is about sex. Not about having sex. But about trying to have sex.
Trying to have one type of sex.
They are the microwaved food of the marital sex world. Convenient. Fast. Not particularly great…but just satisfying enough that you’ll do it again soon.
And married with kids quickies are a totally different brand than the ones you enjoyed back in the early steamy days of your pre-kid life.
Back then, quickies involved clothes being ripped off with each other’s teeth and dishes being thrown off the table. Delicious.
Quickies taste different now.
Parents don’t even take off their clothes for quickies. There’s no time for that romantic shit. We just make the necessary parts accessible and then plug in.
Hurry up, the kids are banging at the door!
And the worst part? Sometimes even quickies are hard to come by when you have little kids.
That’s like admitting, “I’m starving but I can’t use the microwave because the kids are standing right in front of it.”
So you have to find the right window of opportunity for your quickie consumption. Timing and stuff. Distraction methods like TV work well. Did you know that TV programming for children was invented so parents could still have sex during daylight hours? I mean, probably.
Crappy Papa is notoriously bad at determining whether or not there is a quickie opportunity. To him, there is always a quickie opportunity. He is way too optimistic.
Kids are looking out the window at a bird for 2 seconds? Quickie!
Kids are fighting over a toy but nobody is bleeding yet? Quickie!
He invents these windows. They don’t actually exist.
I’m more pragmatic about identifying actual quickie windows so sometimes we don’t agree.
The other day….
We’re all in the kitchen and I just gave the kids frozen treats.
I laugh and say I really don’t think we’ve stumbled on a true quickie window. Sure, they have treats that will keep them occupied for 90 seconds at least but they’re being rather clingy today. I have a bad feeling about it. It isn’t going to work.
He argues that, “No you are wrong! It is a quickie window! They aren’t even paying attention! They don’t even know we’re here! So easy to sneak away!”
Just then Crappy Boy turns around and says:
Not paying attention, eh?
We all laugh and talk a bit about what getting married actually means. (Hint: it isn’t holding hands, whispering and giggling. Not exclusively at least.)
Moments later Crappy Boy leaves the room. Crappy Baby starts to follow him.
Crappy Papa is hopeful again. The window reopened! “See? They’re leaving the room! We can sneak away. This is the perfect window!”
Is there a window? I’m still not convinced.
We start to sneak away:
I hear the sound of a window shutting in my head.
So I point to the wall and say:
And Crappy Baby explodes in laughter:
Nope. There wasn’t.
If anyone offers me patronizing assvice about my sex life in the comments I will puke up the burrito I just ate. It was bean and cheese so it won’t be pretty.
And yes, I microwaved it.
Also, my BOOK is out in four days. So you should probably buy it. It will make your sex life better! I mean, probably.