Sex for Cheesecake

It’s certainly no secret that marriage has a way of changing one’s sex life. When a relationship is first starting off, it’s not uncommon for a couple to rip each other’s clothes off in the throes of passion. After nearly 10 years of marriage, the only reason you’re going to find clothes scattered all over our bedroom is because we haven’t done the laundry in three days.

When dating sex is often passionate and spontaneous. During marriage, it’s far more transactional, like renewing your license plate tabs or scheduling your yearly colonoscopy.

Who am I kidding, when you’re married any chance of a colonoscopy also gets thrown out the window, if you catch my drift.

That being said, there is something unique about how married couples — especially married couples with kids — coordinate their sex lives. The way I see it, married sex is a lot like the holiday calendar at your job: you automatically get your birthday, anniversary, and Valentine’s Day, plus additional floating holidays depending on your years of service.

But honestly it ends up playing out like a fantasy football trade in which one side says, “If you give me ABC, then I’ll give you XYZ.” And before you go thinking I’m being overtly crude, please understand these aren’t exactly kinky moves we’re swapping. A normal married couple trade is like, “If you empty the dishwasher, I’ll let you touch my side boob.”

This morning I mentioned to my wife I was going to go grocery shopping as she was leaving for work. When I kissed her goodbye, I whispered in her ear, “You think I could use one of my floating holidays tonight?”

To which she replied, “It depends on if you get me something good at the store.”

Now when my wife says that, she’s not talking about luxurious gifts and jewels. She’s talking about sweets. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, the way to a woman’s pants is through her sweet tooth.

So I end up going through the bakery aisle at the grocery store trying to find the perfect pastry, which was slightly awkward since my kids were with me. I looped them in on the hunt, but obviously didn’t tell them what was a stake. That made it even stranger, though, when my kids would say stuff like, “Oh, this one looks so good. Mom is going to scream!”

God, I hope so. But honestly I’d just settle for her not snoring.

I end up settling on a beautiful cheesecake which appeared to be made from two parts cream cheese, one part heaven. I brought it home, stuck it in the refrigerator, and waited for my wife to come home and decide if my offering was sufficient. Like I was offering up a sacrifice to the sex gods.

The only problem was that I bought just one tiny cheesecake, and as I waited for my wife to get home from work that thing was calling my name from inside the refrigerator. I don’t know if it’s possible for a dessert to talk dirty to you, but if it is then that cheesecake was begging me to do things to it that most cheesecakes would blush at.

I opened the fridge and stared at it.

“You know you want me,” it whispered.

“I do want you! But what about my wife?!?” I replied, realizing I was basically cheating on the love of my life with a 1,200 calorie dessert.

“She’ll never know. She doesn’t even know about me.”

Well, maybe I’ll just have a little taste, I thought. Isn’t there a rule that basically says it’s ok to eat your wife’s dessert as long as she’s in another zip code?

But just like most scandalous affairs, I couldn’t have “just a taste.” The entire act was quick and messy and the whole time I kept worrying she was going to come home early and find me bent over the counter stuffing my face. I lost so much control that I didn’t even use protection — I left a whole roll of magnum sized Bounty Paper Towels still in the wrapper in the pantry.

Hell, who am I kidding. It was a tiny little Tide Pen.

After I was done with my “business,” I ran around the house trying to cover up all traces that the cheesecake was ever there. I disposed of the little plastic dome in the garage trash and brushed my teeth three times. But when she came home, the guilt overcame me and I had to tell her.

“Honey, I need to tell you something,”

“What did you break?” she replied.

“Well, I didn’t break anything. It’s just — I bought a cheesecake at the store to bribe you to have sex with me…but it looked so good that I ate it.”

“You ate all of it?”

“I’m sorry! It meant nothing to me, I swear I was thinking about you the whole time.”

She stared off in the distance for a moment before breaking the silence. “What else did you buy?”

“What do you…?”

“WHAT ELSE DID YOU BUY? WHAT OTHER SWEETS? WHAT WERE THEY?”

“I only bought the cheesecake! I swear!”

“Well, you should have bought some hand lotion too,” she said. “Cause you’re gonna need it.”

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