It’s a hot night. The steam rises up off the pavements and the air is still charged with electricity from this afternoon’s storm as the dying light of the sun filters through the curtains. We are in the bedroom, drinking beer, the boy and me; except he’s no longer a boy – he’s all grown up.

He is not so much in my life as a fact of my life – it’s hard to remember a time when I did not know him. We met when he was still young enough to think that teasing me was flirting and I was too inexperienced to realise that that’s what it was. We’ve been friends, lovers, friends, and lovers once again – but each time I got on a plane, leaving him far behind, an intermittent lover on the other side of the world. When he looks up and smiles at me, I want to kiss him.
And I’m thinking…
Is that a bad idea? He’s sitting on the bed; I’m sitting by the desk. Not more than sixty centimetres separates us – sixty centimetres and a lot of history. It’s been a long time since we’ve shared a bed, restricting our intimacies to shared confidences. We swapped tales of sexual and romantic disasters; complained bitterly about difficult lovers via phone and email; celebrated successes and commiserated losses. Our friendship is solid. Is it worth the risk?
And I’m thinking…
If I kiss him, should I leave it at a kiss? I remember what his body looks like, what it feels like – the raised keloid scars on his chest, the piercings, his surprisingly strong arms. I remember what he feels like inside me and my stomach twists with longing.
My desire makes me shy. I hesitate, suddenly unsure of what to say or how to act.
And I’m thinking…
We’ve slept together a number of times, what difference would once more make?
And I’m thinking…
About the last time I saw him, sitting on a couch, heads together to hear over the din of noise in the pub, and how much I’d wanted him, but how circumstances – his girlfriend, my boyfriend – prevented it.
I take a long sip of beer and wish I hadn’t quit smoking. Right now I could do with one.
And I’m thinking…
Should I do this? I’m only here for the day. Tomorrow I’ll be gone and in a few days time, I’ll be on the other side of the world.
And I’m thinking…
There is no point worrying about any of this. He lives here where the sun is warm, the beer is cheap and life is even cheaper; and I live thousands of miles away where the sky is grey, the beer is expensive but the craic is mighty.
Then I remember one of my favourite lines from one of my favourite books...
For myself, I would rather live with sins of excess than sins of denial.
He leans forward and I’m admiring the new tattoo on his forearm, the curve of his wrist and the way the skin, the bone and muscle create an arm that is at once perfectly ordinary and unremarkable but also unique to this man, this person, and how that endows it with a sensuality not normally associated with this part of the body. I want to reach out and trace my fingers along its length. Instead I drink my beer.
He’s telling me about his ex-girlfriend and I remember why we could never make a relationship work – I would never be able to live up to his exacting standards.
I say, “The problem is you are an idealist. You’ve been looking for the perfect woman and she doesn’t exist.”
And he says, “I know. It all begins fine but then I start looking for the flaws and convince myself I’m unhappy.”
Then he says, “You weren’t so bad.”
He smiles at me and desire rushes across my body.
Then he says, “At least none of your faults annoy me too much.”
And I’m thinking…
Why do you always want to sleep with the wrong people, Anne?
But instead I say, “Thanks. I’ll be sure to put that on my resume.”
And he’s telling me something but I’m no longer listening. I’m looking at his lips as he talks. He leans forward to make a point and I call feel the heat rising off his body and smell the faintest hint of sweat. And I want to run my tongue along his neck and taste the saltiness of his skin.
But I don’t.
And I’m thinking…
Had we but world enough and time, this coyness lady was no crime.
And I’m thinking…
Here is a man I genuinely care about, so why the hesitation? Who better to have sex with than someone I have feelings for? But the answer is obvious – I don’t want to get emotionally involved and I sense that this time there is a risk.
And I’m thinking…
In a few days I’ll be gone, back to Dublin and things will be as they’ve been for the past few years. Nothing will change – I admonish myself. Stop being so reticent.
“Come here,” he says. He reaches over and takes my hand. He puts his arms around me and I kiss his hair. I can feel his warm breathe on my neck and my heart beats faster. I run my hands across his back and he squeezes me tightly.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
And I’m thinking…
Is that a hint?
And I’m thinking…
I think too much.
“I’ve missed you too,” I reply.
We pull apart, but not by much. He leans in and rests his forehead against mine, cupping my head in his hands. I reach up and run my fingers down his face.
He stretches out and hooks his leg between mine and our bodies glow palely in the bright African
moonlight.

SEXTIP

Get out of the rut

People in long-term relationships often get stuck in a sexual rut, either having sex at around the same times each week or sticking to tried and tested routines and positions. That way lies boredom. Here are a few ideas that you can try:
1. Don’t come. I know, it sounds weird, but sometimes not coming can be a good thing. Turn each other on, but don’t aim for the finish line. It’s frustrating but can help you build up sexual energy and enthusiasm for the next time you allow each other a release.
2. Search the web or a sex book for a position you’ve never tried before and give it a go. Some positions can be tricky to get right the first time, especially if you are not fit, but even if it’s initially less successful than your go-to positions, the more options you have to choose between, the better.
3. Get romantic. People get into long-term relationships because they have romantic feelings for each other, and romance is thus an important part of the initial sexual attraction, so make time for it – even if it’s just a massage or sharing a bath.
4. Have sex at a different time of the day. Yes, it is possible to wake up half an hour earlier, especially now that the mornings are getting a little bit brighter.
5. Try something new. There is a whole range of options out there, from the vanilla to the extremely kinky. Surely you can agree on at least one or two?