After 20 years of marriage, somehow our sex life is better than ever – even more of a miracle given that outside of the bedroom, most of the time we drive each other mad.
I can’t remember how we went from being a couple who watch boxsets every night on the sofa together, to sitting in separate rooms, glued to different TVs. A couple of years ago, my husband bought noise-cancelling headphones, supposedly for work, but after a while he seemed to be wearing them most of the time.
While chopping vegetables for dinner, he even keeps them on. I start to tell him about my day, but then I’m met with a blank silence and realise the trusty headphones are still on. Half the time, I’m not sure if he’s even listening to music or just wearing them as a symbolic “p— off” to me. A couple of times I’ve waved to get his attention, but now I’ve taken the hint.
He’s never been overly affectionate. Even in the first couple of years of our relationship, he told me he’s the kind of man who shows his love through actions, not big romantic gestures. To be fair, in many ways, he’s a great husband – he cooks for me, fixes things, pays bills and books nice holidays, but a handhold or a spontaneous hug just aren’t in his repertoire.
As the years have gone by and we’ve had two children, got more complacent and perhaps a little bored of each other, we’ve started to talk less and less. I don’t think he finds much of my conversation about work, friends or even current affairs that interesting and when he starts a rant about the rising cost of energy bills, inwardly I groan.
Our arguments tend to be on the same themes: money, mess and things I’ve forgotten to do, but in my defence my poor memory is just as frustrating for me too. I’m a gentle person 90 per cent of the time, whereas he’s a strong character with a short fuse and I often find myself begging him to calm down. It takes a lot to make me explode, though when I do, I’m even more fierce than him.
But conversely, however dull or annoying we may find each other in everyday life, in the bedroom sparks still fly. That’s the one place the headphones are guaranteed to come off and we’re filled with the kind of passion you’d normally find on a first date.
Despite his infuriating habit of telling me off outside of bed for everything from losing my keys to leaving the kitchen in a mess, he’s a caring, imaginative and generous lover, who seems to derive most of his sexual pleasure from seeing me enjoy myself.
I’ve always been quite sensual, but as I’ve got older and got to know my body better, the sex just gets more and more intense. After 20 years, we know so well what turns each other on that all the niggles of everyday life are instantly forgotten once we climb into bed. His tired, grumpy face suddenly softens and he becomes a different husband.
I suspect sex is the glue that’s helping keep us together. The other day during one particularly ferocious row, I’m ashamed to admit I yelled in his face: “I can’t stand the sight of you.” The bone of contention was him barking at me to tidy up on a Saturday morning when I’d barely even woken up. But weirdly, by night-time we were back in bed together, as if nothing had happened and when we lay in post-coital bliss, I told him, “I love you, darling” – and I really meant it.
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