Last week, my boyfriend came home from the pub at 10pm smelling of beer but still relatively sober.
He collapsed into bed beside me, told me he had missed me this week, and then we had sex.
Sounds like a scene from Fifty Shades Of Grey, right?
Well not really, but it’s a great example of what I assume most sex lives are actually like.
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It was the mid-week, easy going kind of sex we all know.
Sure, there was passion in there but there was no choking, biting, slapping, extras, or add-ons. I wasn’t even on my period, so it was very straightforward.
No sheets were harmed in the making of my orgasm. There were no fancy moves, positions, or even dirty talk. It wasn’t sex in a hallway or in a car or in a public bathroom or in a private room or in a nightclub.
It was just good, old-fashioned, vanilla sex. In our comfortable, familiar bed. And it was incredible.
It was the first time all week that we’d really stopped and connected.
Between differing work schedules, various social commitments and let’s face it, bloating, we hadn’t really had the chance to be together physically.
Having sex made me feel like we’d found our way back to our usual rhythm. I find vanilla sex usually does that, resets you and reminds you that you aren’t just weirdly close housemates; you are also lovers.