The Man & I aren't much for New Years' resolutions. We just try to live the best way we can each day and move on without guilt if we don't live up to our own standards. So far that approach has worked for us for a long time. Well, that is until yesterday.
We hold dear the superstition that says whatever you are doing New Year's Day is what you'll find yourself doing all year long, so among other luxuries and indulgences of the day, we make it a point to start the new year off with a "bang," so to speak. Now we're not one of those couples who reserve nookie for birthdays, anniversaries and high holidays. No, any old time is fine. I don't make him beg for sex, don't use it as a weapon, and we are still as active as we were 14 years ago when we decided we liked each other well enough to spend time together naked. Actually we're more active now because we didn't live together until 3 years later, to the tune of anywhere from 3-7 consistently mutually satisfactory copulations a week after living under the same roof for over a decade. Nothing to sneeze at by any standards.
So yesterday right after our annual tradition of starting the new year off right, he says, something like, "My resolution is more sex this year." Seriously? More? For his age bracket he already gets tenfold more than any of his friends and cronies, and for people together and married as long as we have been we're ahead of the curve. Honestly, I'm not sure where we'll fit it in.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not complaining. I just might need to call in reinforcements. What's your sister's number?