There are so many exciting things about moving into your own place with your partner. For one, you can walk around naked and two, you can finally have all the loud, joyous sex you've been holding off from having when you lived with other roommates.
Or so I thought. Turns out the whole loud, joyous sex thing may only be a luxury awarded to those in free-standing homes and unfortunately, we don't have one of those... yet.
You see, we live in an inner-city unit in Melbourne with about eight apartments in our building. It's renovated, but the original building is from the 60s. So I guess the walls are pretty thin.
Let me set the scene of what happened the other day.
My partner and I were about to go to bed when we spontaneously ended up having some rather passionate sex. And by passionate, I don't mean the slow, love-making, movie-esque sex where the only noises you hear are sighs and heaving panting.
It was passionate in a hot, sweaty, intense kind of way. That's just what gets us both off.
And isn't that a beautiful thing that we still want to rip each other's clothes off and have sex like that all these years into a relationship?
I thought so. But with this loud and enthusiastic sex comes a sense of unawareness.
In that moment, you're not thinking about what Joe and Susie over the hallway are thinking of your late-night antics, are you?
If you were thinking of Joe and Susie at all in that moment, then I doubt you'd be having an orgasm any time soon.
Serious mood killer.
You're purely focused on pleasure. The feeling, the sensation, the connection between the both of you. Not neighbourly etiquette.
And we were made very aware of that the morning after when we found a note that had been slipped under our door.