There comes a time when a good idea is no longer a good idea.
When you’ve been married for a while with children and responsibilities, you don’t have as much flexibility to be as spontaneous as you once were in the sex department. My husband and I used to exchange X-rated letters before work but that’s been replaced with quick text messages asking if he could bring home more milk. Our past dates that used to end in steamy make-out sessions now consist of streaming Netflix reality shows while we sit on the couch until we fall asleep. (Sound familiar?)
I can give you excuse after excuse for why we’re not as spontaneous as we want to be (four children, full-time jobs with long hours, room-sharing with a one-year old baby, etc.) but I desperately want that to change. I don’t want our marriage to become another cliché of boring sex. I want hot, sexy passion like we used to have so I'm making an executive decision to be more spontaneous with my husband before it becomes a huge issue in our marriage.
I figured having sex somewhere other than our bedroom was the spark we needed to light a fire of passion.
I’ve had sex with my husband in all the typical places: the back seat of our car, the open water, basically every surface in our house at one point or another but up until now I've never had sex in the snow. So I thought: let's try it! (All in the name of spontaneity, right?)
The night it happened we were dressed to the nines, sans kids, for my husband's holiday work party and we miracously had time to kill before we needed to be back home. My husband looked smokin' wearing a suit and tie (which if you ask me, is the only thing men should wear) and I felt sexier than usual, wearing false lashes, bright lipstick, and my freshly-highlighted hair down. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other all night. (The wine might've helped, too.)
I wasn't quite ready to get arrested for having sex with my husband in public so post-party we opted to continue our sexy evening in private. We drove back home when we knew the kids would be soundly asleep and we sent the babysitter home. In our backyard we still have patio furniture out from the summer and while it's completely covered in snow, I gave my husband a knowing glance that suggested, "Should we go for it?" and he nodded. He was game to get down in the cold Canadian snow. Bold? Yes.
But we figured people use ice cubes for foreplay all the time so how bad could the snow be?
Ummmm, turns out pretty bad. Having sex in the snow meant we had to be extra-creative on our positioning so we didn’t risk getting frostbite on our body’s most sensitive areas. I'm pretty flexible so I just folded in half and bent over, figuring that would be the easiest position to get 'er done. But even in what I thought was a winter-weather proof position, I was so, so wrong.
The cold winter air reached my nether regions no matter how much I tried to block the wind and my husband didn’t seem to be faring much better on his end. I turned over to see if maybe facing the other way would help keep the heat between us but my body wouldn’t stop shivering.
Turns out, sub-zero temps are almost a better orgasm-blocker for us than screaming babies.
I didn’t dare place any of my naked skin in the snow because it was so cold outside. (I’m talking middle of the winter in Canada and -16 ºF temperature kind of cold.) The brutal wind against my vagina was enough to make me realize this was an epic mistake. My husband and I were on the fast-track to becoming our town’s most talked about headline due to “penis captivus" (google it) and we didn’t want need any of that PR, so we did the best we could.
My husband grabbed me, pulled me in and held me tighter with his arms. He kissed my neck and I tried to mentally block out the freezing cold air but a split-second gust of dead cold wind snapped me back out of the mood again. Yeah, f*ck this sh*t.
In the spirit of keeping all our body parts frost-bite free, we moved our personal party inside the basement washroom. The location change was my husband's idea because he was thinking more clearly than I was (he knows when a good idea is no longer a good idea) and there is just as much distance from the sleeping kids there as the backyard but without the death-cold wind.
We were able to get ourselves back in the mood after we both warmed up and once my husband started kissing the back of my neck, it was game-on again. All we needed was 5 minutes and miraculously no little people woke up to break our interrupt us.
So as you can see, it wasn’t all bad. (Okay, it was pretty bad.) While I did question what I was thinking in the first place - seriously, what I was thinking? - I still support the idea that when you're in a sex rut, a spontaneous quickie is sometimes just what you need even if, in my case, the location of said quickie was a total bust.
Do heed my advice though: When it's the dead of winter and so cold outside that your face hurts even when it’s wrapped three times over in a thick wool scarf, it’s not the time to disrobe in the spirit of making your sex life hotter.
Because it wont - the snow is effing cold!
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