Or so goes the warning newlyweds receive from well-meaning folks.
We married folks have less sex than our lust-filled dating years together. I remember those dating years fondly, where quantity mattered more than quality. We had ample time between our partying, drinking, and our low-stress jobs to get naked and vertical. I admit it, we were having sex like bunnies and I loved (almost) every single moment.
For us, it wasn’t the act of saying our vows that automatically changed the frequency of our tumbles in bed. It wasn’t because our relationship lost the new car smell. We lived together for two years before actually tying the knot.
We just stopped counting the notches on our marriage bed.
Keeping tabs on the frequency of sex was no longer important to us, unlike the husband who tracked his sex life via a spreadsheet, including all the times his wife turned him down. We learned how to communicate better in other ways besides the language of sex. Quality time didn’t have to always be lovemaking. We snuggled on the couch and watched movies. We went thrift shopping for treasures together. We had long alcohol-induced conversations about our sexual fantasies (to file away for next time).