I swear I didn't write this recent confession, although I can completely relate.

"Yes, I'm being a bitch. When I do not get enough sex, I become bitchy. So stop complaining and fuck me!"

No sex = very moody spjv. I have this bad habit of automatically assuming the worst. I've mentioned this before. When it comes to how much sex a couple has during the week, everyone is different. Some couples are happy with once a week, once every two weeks (gulp), some less than that, others more. For me, I can't stand once a week sex. It just screams "there's something wrong" in my head, loudly, every 5 minutes and makes me unable to concentrate on anything. I become consumed with the possibility that there's something wrong in the relationship and we all know how that goes.

Having been in three long-term relationships, I know that after a while, things in the bedroom dwindle down. That all-consuming passion/need/desire to have your partner right then and there, every day, fades and you're left with the feeling of, "Well, tonight is sex night, better shave". This is my worst nightmare. In fact, it scares me more than the thought of cancer, marriage and living in the same place for the rest of my life combined.

I equate a healthy sex life with a healthy relationship. Granted, there are exceptions, as with most things. Great relationship but bad sex, or bad sex but great realtionship. I've had a few quickie relationships where, for the most part, the person did nothing for me intellectually or bored the hell out of me, but in the bedroom? Whole different story. I remember one in particular. We'll call him Leo. Leo and I got along well-enough in the outside world, but where we really flourished was spending long, lazy days in bed having sex and eating cake. Literally, having sex, eating cake, having more sex, more cake. It was bliss! Clearly this was how that whole little saying of "Having your cake and eating it too" was invented. When we were outside, trying to be a couple, it felt forced, fake and not quite right somewhere. I would often call him up at 2AM, back from a night at Foufs, and he would skate down to my apartment where I would greet him barely clothed and we'd continue to have great sex. In the morning? I couldn't wait for him to leave.

There was Army Guy. No, he wasn't in the army, never was and never will be, but he was obsessed with anything and everything military related. He had a big Confederate flag over his bed. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He knew his war history, but that's about it. Having a conversation about anything else was like trying to get me to eat liver (ain't gonna happen). He was also younger than me by a couple years. That was the first and last time I will ever date someone younger than me, but in the bedroom, wow! Niced size dick, thick where it counts and he knew how to use it. Of course, everyone told me he was so good with it because he had enough practice, but still. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Oddly enough, he was the guy who got me more and more into trying new things in bed. He came up with all kinds of interesting and fun positions that, get this, benefited BOTH of us, not just his man parts. Of course, it ended somewhat badly one night when he got drunk and turned into royal asshole. I packed up my few belongings that I had at his place and didn't look back.

What do you think? Can you deal with a good relationship but bad sex or vice versa? Is once a week enough for you or are you content with once a month nookie?

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