Out From Under

Guaranteed sex. Required. Promised, even. Every day. Every single day, come hell, high water, or headaches.

Good idea? Bad idea?

Two couples, each experiencing a bit of a marital lull, each came up with the same solution: daily sex for a pre-determined period of time. 101 days for one couple (the Browns, Annie and Douglas), and a solid fucking year for the Mullers (Charla and Brad).

They enjoyed it, mostly. Charla hit the wall in month ten, but rebounded. Annie saw to it that her husband put out even when suffering a bout of vertigo. No quitters, these people.

Required daily sex, though. Required. What would be the long-term response to that?

Would you sort of get into it, look forward to it? Maybe it would put a dash of impishness in your smile, a sparkle in your eye, knowing that you had sex last night and the night before and the night before that. And that you will have it tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that. Oh, you rampant, raging sex machine! You sex goddess! You epitome of youthful virility!

You could look out over all your twice-a-week comrades and co-workers with pity, secure in your sexual superiority.

Or, after two or three weeks, it could be a complete drudge, a pall of obligation over your life. The burden you bear. Yes, a worthwhile, worthy endeavour, but, like working out, or eschewing junk food, or reading only Improving Literature, not always terribly joyful. Would the play factor be leached out through constant repetition? What about boredom?

What about boredom? I’m not saying sex has to be spontaneous. Any couple who deals with external obligations knows that you will have to schedule sex in. We all do that, at least once in a while. “It’s been too long, honey. How about tonight we…?” But every night? For weeks and months on end?

Sex is wonderful, sex is invigorating, sex is hott … but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Too much chocolate makes you fat. Too much reading gives you a headache. Too much running gives you shin splints. Too much laughter makes you pee yourself.

And too much sex … makes you bored. I mean, really. Wouldn’t you get bored? Sex would become one more item to scratch off the daily list, right up there with scrubbing the tub and tackling the grunge on the stovetop, about as arousing as brushing your teeth. Wouldn’t you think?

One couple dealt with boredom by frequent short trips. Making out in a yurt adds a certain je ne sais quoi, I’m sure. But does it really make the act itself more exciting?

Would quality crumble in the face of such relentless quantity? One couple noted that when you’re having daily sex, quickies are a staple. As of course they’d have to be. Who has time for a three-hour sensual extravaganza every single day? Nothing wrong with quickies, of course. But there’s a difference between having a quickie because you have to get the sex done for today, and having a quickie because you’re panting with passion and need your partner, NOW!

When the Browns were done their 101 nights, they didn’t have sex for a solid month. That would be relief. Sheerest relief. Pressure’s off, and now what? Back to normal? Not quite. Both are more active than they were before — but that isn’t saying a whole lot, really, as the Mullers had been months without; the Browns averaged about three times a month. Now they’re both within American averages (twice a week or so).

However, all my personal dubiosity aside, both couples say it did their marriage good, brought them closer on every level, not just the physical. Not that they’re suggesting it for the rest of us. Not at all. Oh, and they’ve each written a book. The Brown’s Just Do It is out now, published by Random House, and the Muller’s 365 Nights, will come out in July.

Where did they find the time?

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 12th, 2008 at 5:47 am and is filed under marriage etc.. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.