So, a friend and I went out for a Girl’s Evening.
During this evening we managed to eat a great meal, drink a whole bottle of wine and talk for 6 straight hours.
We talked about everything.
Okay, mostly sex.
We both have fairly great sex lives (or at least we did before children screwed it up), excelling in both quality and quantity departments.
In one area, however, she’s got Husband and I beat.
Location. Location. Location.
(Does that count as three areas?)
Now Husband and I aren’t shy violets that only have missionary sex after dark with our clothes still on. We’ve christened every room in our house (and probably every room in yours), several camp grounds and more than a few rest stops.
I won’t even go into where our son was conceived.
We cannot hold the teeny tiniest candle, however, to my friend and her husband.
Anyhow, so I was giving Husband the comparative scoop, (not complaining, mind, as our sex life is finally back on track after I recently reclaimed my body – and my boobs – as a sexual object rather than a milk machine), who was suitably impressed and more than a little jealous.
Enter Husband and his proposed New Year’s Resolution.
I, Canadianna’s Husband, vow to have sex in a place that is not our home at least once per month.
I, Canadianna, can only assume that I’ll be along for the ride.
Should make for interesting blogging, anyhow.