This was going to be the month of conception. I knew it. I wanted it.
So I declared it sex week.
Bal looked over as I said it, unsure if I was serious or not, and then seeing my face, smiled wildly, shrugged his shoulders and responded “Okay!” Duh, no brainer.
30 minutes later, we lay there happy, knowing it was going to be a great week.
The next night, the same wild-eyed, energetic Bal of yesterday, today lies snoring in bed at 10pm.
And the next night, after a long stressful day at work, I have a bath and curl up in bed by 9pm.
On the following night, the pressure for both of us to stay awake was palpable. We lay in bed awkwardly pretending that we didn’t have to have sex. We discover, quickly, that there is nothing more unromantic than having to have sex. But we both know we should. We just didn’t know when or who should make the first move.
So we lay there chatting. Pretending we care about what the other person is saying.
Bal is speaking computer geek, my legs are dry and unshaved, I’m in an oversized tshirt, and we are both stuffed from dinner. This is so not going to happen tonight. I am certain.
While listening listlessly, I reach under the blanket to scratch my legs and am immediately shocked when my hand touches something round and hard. The computer talk must really be turning him on! How disturbing.
Then I start giggling as I pull my hand out from the duvet. There, held firmly in hand, is a boner!
That is, Riley’s plastic bone chewing toy. When Bal notices what I’m holding, he laughs outright and exclaims “Wow, 2 boners in one night. Lucky you!”
First move made…