Things here are pretty catastrophic.  We had a wonderful New Year’s, and then we had an appalling fuck-up right after that.  I’m not going to go into details about it without a little password protection; if you’ve been reading for awhile and I know you, feel free to send me an email and you can have access to the dirt.

We did have one moment of humor about it all, a few days after the incident that caused the biggest problems–caused them for me, anyway.  We were lying in bed after sex–the first and, as I recall, only sex we had in the week following the Bad Event.  Robbie had his arm draped cozily around me, and we were at that post-coital stage where you exchange a few words of mutual self-congratulation before drifting off into sleep.

Except, instead of saying, “that was great!”, Robbie said, “We could write a book you know.  Fucking Up Your Sex Life for Dummies.”

I laughed.  I knew exactly what he was talking about.  The bad event that happened was already costing us, and it was clear it was going to keep costing.

He went on.  “The Idiot’s Guide to Screwing Up Your Sex Life.  How to Ruin Your Sex Life in Twelve Easy Steps.  Making It Stop: 200 Tips and Tricks for Killing the Mood.”

Wanting to join the fun, I chimed in, “The Elements of Bad Sex.”

“No,” he said, in a sort of reflective tone.  “I don’t think so.  That sounds too much like first principles.  People want these things broken down.  They need answers here!”

We laughed and laughed, secure in the knowledge that we certainly had the answers, and fell asleep.

Edit: I feel I should add that the actual sex we had was really high quality, as it always is.  It’s just that the fighting and bad stuff that happens in between gets in the way.  😦