“Ok. I promise we can have sex tomorrow. Probably. I’ll put it on the list.”
Maybe this is the hard part. . . .
When seeing each other revolves around my hair washing schedule. And we keep ending up in diners at 11:45 on work nights because he works late and the chocolate-covered biscotti I bought at Rite-Aid to get cash back don’t really count as dinner.
When there are complicated logistics involved in ending up together in bed. And once we’re there, all we want to do is sleep.
When the majority of our conversations end with one of us reminding the other that we like our jobs or at the very least other people want them.
I think this might be the hard part.
It’s the being with him that’s the easy part.