My husband and I never have sex at home, only at our friends’ places or in hotel rooms. We’ve lived together, improbably, for four years now. When we hooked up six years ago I never expected anything serious, just a one-night stand with a hot flight attendant.
After 15 casual sexual encounters we had a screaming row about my sleeping with someone else, and after the 16th, we decided to be in an exclusive relationship. After 40 meet-ups, he brought home an exotic strain of gonorrhoea; when we had got over the shock, and finished a course of antibiotics, we started planning the wedding.
