So first things first. I’m on CD12, ovulation is around 5-7 days away, and the preparation has begun.
I had my first glass of grapefruit juice tonight and ohmygod did I gag. In fact, I would rather swallow Dave’s salty offering (and I DON’T do that!) than endure the bitterness of that rank liquid. I don’t understand how people enjoy drinking it? I mean, I’m not surprised that I didn’t like it, considering I can stand the fruit either, but still I had to literally hold my nose as I quaffed it back. Apparently it does wonders for EWCM so I’ll endure it for this week leading up to ovulation but if I don’t notice any difference this month then I won’t bother continuing with it.
Now, the next issue is scheduling sex. This obviously is NOT the recommended way to do it, and spontaneous horny sex is much better (that goes without saying) but in reality you have to plan things out.
Having said that though, we were supposed to do it last night but Dave was too tired so I’d shaved my legs for nothing. And he’ll be the first to complain about the regrowth the next time he strokes my legs…
So we had rescheduled for tonight instead. But our conversation when I got home from work went a little something like this…
Dave: I can’t wait to smash you at the weekend.
Me: That’s great but I might have ovulated by then.
Dave: Do you mind if we skip tonight as I’m fucked. We’ll definitely do it tomorrow though.
Me: Promise? We still need to do it during the week to keep the stocks replenished.
Dave: Yeah because I’ve got an easier day at work tomorrow so I’ll have more energy.
Me: Okay but I’ll be tired because I’ve got that concert straight after school tomorrow.
Dave: What time will you be back?
Me: Around 6:45pm. So we should probably do it as soon as I get back because if we wait until bedtime I’ll want to go straight to sleep.
Dave: How about we do it on the sofa whilst dinner is cooking?
Me: Yeah that works.
Don’t judge me. I know. Our sex life wasn’t like this in our 20s before careers and bills and mortgages!
The frustrating thing is I don’t stop work until December 20th and Dave doesn’t stop until the 23rd – that’s when we’ll have the time and energy but I’ll have already ovulated by then. We’ll just have to do our best and have an indulgent session over the weeekend.
And then there is the matter of the Santa suit. Dave has got a cheap and tacky Santa outfit to wear when he’s out at work. It’s hideous. And he wants to shag me whilst wearing it.
I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT WANT TO BE SHAGGED BY FATHER CHRISTMAS.*
So this week I shall mostly be sporting stubbly legs, forcing myself to drink a nasty liquid, whilst trying to stay awake enough for midweek sex with a man who wants to role play as Santa.
*enter your Santa coming in my chimney joke here*