“How do you do it with everyone else?” she asked.
“Huh? What do you mean?” I replied.
“Make plans. Have sex with people.”
“I don’t very often.”
At this point, I explained both that it’s been quite a while since I had any regular sex with anyone other than my wife, and that even when I did, the times at which I did were relatively constrained. V and I almost always met at 10:30 or so on weeknights. Or during the day, when we both were able to carve an hour or three out of our schedules.
This is the thing. Because I spent so long absenting myself from my family as much as I did, I have a basic rule to which I hold myself: I don’t miss time with the family to have sex. Sometimes, if I have a work or social event that takes me away from home at dinner or bedtime, I’ll extend my evening to permit the sex. But otherwise? Not so much.
That probably means I miss out on some quality sex. It definitely makes me a frustrating person to have an ongoing thing with. But my loyalties and priorities are, alas, clear. In ways that, for many years, they weren’t so much.