Confession: "I can’t stop sex-bragging to everyone around me".

By ROSIE WATERLAND

Dear colleagues, loved ones and friends,

As I’m sure you are well aware (thanks to me making sure you are well aware), I am currently in the ‘Endless Hot Sex’ phase of my relationship.

I have fallen in love. Not just with a man but with a man’s special place, and I’m pretty sure judging by the amount we are bumping our special places together that he has also fallen in love with mine.

Let’s not beat around the bush here (although I’m sure in the last few months I’ve probably managed to do that in some kind of sexual way): I am getting laid all the damn time and I am pretty damn thrilled about it, to be honest.

But.

I know that I’m being insufferable. I know that I’ve been casually slipping my sex life into conversation whenever I think it’s relevant (I also know that it almost never is). I know that I’ve been making tenuous connections that involve responding with “I came twice this morning” when somebody asks me to pass the phone charger.

I know that the wry smile I give whenever I’m asked what I did on the weekend is anything but subtle. I don’t blame you for rolling your eyes as I obnoxiously pull my pill out of my bag and earnestly exclaim “definitely can’t forget to take that,” with an emphasis on ‘definitely’ that clearly implies I’m having way more sex than you.

Obviously, I’ve been having quite a nice time. But it’s recently been brought to my attention that the Endless Hot Sex phase of my relationship has been making some of you feel a little inadequate.

Basically, I’ve been inadvertently sex-shaming the shit out of everybody.

So please allow me to take this opportunity (while I’m at work and not otherwise… indisposed) to apologise for my behaviour.

I’m so sorry (name redacted), that you actually told your boyfriend that maybe you should break up because I was making you feel like your non-3 times a day sex life was doomed (and you were only half joking).

And to (name redacted), I’m sorry you had sex on Sunday night even though you were tired, because you were thinking about that story I told you involving the couch and a spatula.

Oh, and (name redacted) – I’m sorry that my smug, throwaway comment about ‘having at least one orgasm a day’ made you consider getting back in touch with that Tinder guy whose profile pic was him holding a massive wad of cash.

God I’m the worst. But please know this:

I’m under no illusions that this phase of my relationship will last. I’m completely aware the the Endless Hot Sex phase will not, in fact, be endless. So while I’m happy to apologise for being smug and insufferable and sharing way too much information, I also have one small favour to ask of all of you.

WILL YOU JUST LET ME HAVE THIS?

I’ve already cut back to shaving my legs once a week. The sexy pyjamas are coming out far less frequently. And there have been nights that we’ve sat down on the couch to watch a movie and not actually ended up a sweaty, exhausted mess. Not many nights, but some.

So I know the time is coming, okay? Soon I’ll be thinking about how I can get away with starfishing it because I’ve eaten way too many burritos. He’ll tell me he’s exhausted and just wants to read and I’ll be secretly thrilled because I really want to drink wine and watch Scandal by myself.

And it won’t be long before I’ll be the one listening to some smug bitch in the middle of her Endless Hot Sex phase and wondering why I don’t have sex anywhere other than the bed anymore.

So please, please, just bear with me. Let me enjoy the Endless Hot Sex phase while it lasts.

I can already smell the burrito from here. And damn it, it smells good.

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