*****I once said I would never talk about sex on the blog. But it seems like all the people who shouldn’t really be talking about it are clogging the internet with their thoughts. So, here are some ramblings from a monogamous 32-year-old mom.*****
“Last night, I told my husband I’d slept with only 2 other guys. Not sure if he bought it.”
“Were you lying to him?”
“Lyndse, how do you not know the subtraction rule? You take the number of guys you’ve slept with and subtract 3. Or 7. Depends on how much you’ve gotten around. You can’t tell a guy your real number.”
“But my number is zero.”
“It can’t be. Nobody’s number is zero. And guys wouldn’t believe that anyway. You’ll need to at least say 1. You don’t want a virgin reputation.”
“I already have a virgin reputation, because I’m a virgin. I’m not going to add false notches to my chastity belt. That’s absurd.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but nobody’s gonna date a college girl who says zero.”
My co-worker and I had very different worldviews about sex. I can’t even remember her name. This is the only conversation I even remember having with her in all the time we worked together. She saw me as a silly little college girl with a promise ring. I saw her as someone I didn’t understand who desperately needed to know that Jesus loved her…she was looking for love in some scary places.
I was a virgin on my wedding day. I don’t say it to brag, just to point out that Dave and I were clueless about sex. But we were clueless together. We had read all those books you were supposed to read before you get married. But reading and doing are two very different skill sets. We were both starting at zero. And our inexperience brought us together quickly.
We went away on a month long honeymoon. It was filled with joy, unmet expectations, funny conversations, fireworks…so.many.fireworks…and indifferent experiences. But it was fabulous. No schedule. Doing as we pleased. Caught up in exploring one another. Even when it seemed awkward.
But neither one of us would say that our honeymoon sex was our best sex. We look back and laugh. We have fond memories and hilarious anecdotes. And we would never trade that season of naivety and learning for what we have now. Because it was worth it to start at the ground floor and build our intimacy together.
Nine years and three kids later. Sex is different. We no longer dance around one another. We know what we like, love, hate, and what makes us yawn. We can tell one another anything and everything. Always transparent. And we can try new things and chuckle if they go horribly wrong.
Sex after three kids changes things. Literally. We traded gold canopy curtains for drying diapers. Exactly 22 bath toys took up residence where our candles and bath oil used to sit. We started keeping jingle bells on our door, because Graham is a sleepwalker.
We find the laughter, just like in the early days. But the reason for our laughter has changed. Making bets about which kid will wake up when we turn on the shower. Or who will cry for a bottle as soon as we light the first candle.
And we cherish all the moments we get, because sex after three kids is a gamble. Sometimes we hit a jackpot. Sometimes the house, with three tiny owners, wins. But Dave and I are still on the same team. We exchanged the zero for 1 almost a decade ago. It’s been our unique adventure. With straightforward math. I love our story more and more each day.