How things change! From getting intimate because you are in the mood for it, to getting intimate because the doctor has called for it — the private lives of the average Indian is often a sad story of living by the biological calendar and targets to meet.
I know of so many couples, who have been struggling to have a baby. Struggling because sex is no longer a spontaneous, joyful matter, when you have the gynaecologist or the fertility expert breathing down your neck. The pressure to procreate has more often than not, snuffed the life out of our bedroom, and I do not think the situation has gotten any better.
Think about it — from a life where you do not want the world to know how many times and where and when you have done it, you are now in a situation where almost everyone in the family and the clinic knows whether you have done it — it is gross, isn’t it?
I was speaking to a dear friend the other day, she was frightfully stressed out because she was going through a fertility treatment and was forced to stick to the calendar for intercourse. Making out at gun point almost. If this does not mess up with a healthy chemistry between two consent adults, what does? She was distraught and all I could say was, take it easy.
Point is, if after all the trouble (though I am yet to ascertain if men find this process too troublesome for their liking), you are not successful, what do you do? You keep trying? Or you decide to take things in your stride and revive the fun instead?
The initial stages of intimacy by the calendar, may be fun. Even interesting.
Scented candles, bubble bath, champagne, chocolates (assuming you have enough privacy and time for this sort of adventure), videos and maybe even literature. But after a few tries, the candles will eventually melt away and the bubbles will burst and you will soon find yourself staring at a poster of a bonny baby in a fertility clinic, waiting for your turn with the doctor.
Could this explain why most instances of infidelity happen in the run up to baby making and thereafter?
So next time you are handed out a calendar for coochie cooing, trash it and follow your own instincts instead.