Tonight, I am sharing with you only one of the obstacles my husband and I have to hurdle in order to have a sex life... the cats. Yes, I know what you're thinking, they're cats, they're pets, they are smaller and stupider than us, hence they should not be an obstacle. But they are!
Let me preface this by saying dealing with our cats is way better than other obstacles that have come before. I mean before we moved out on our own we were constantly racing the clock (quick, while no one's here!) before parents and siblings got home from wherever they were. I may even venture to say that I didn't let myself fully enjoy sex most of the time (Shh, what was that? Was that a car door?) unless I knew there was absolutely no chance that we would be interrupted. And lastly, those of you with kids, I know cats are way better to deal with than kids. But I think we are a few years off from having kids yet, so when I start blogging about not being able to have sex because the kids are always around, you can remind me that I used to complain about my cats.
So that being said, let me share with you the ridiculous situation that happened last night. We have two cats, Chester and Beaker, and I think they have attachment issues, to me, mostly. Usually, we are prepared ahead of time if we are going up to the bedroom for some sexy time. I'll run upstairs first and my husband heads into the kitchen to get the cat treats. Once the cats are thoroughly distracted with the butt load of treats he plies them with, he runs upstairs to join me. Now it depends on the day, or the cats' moods I guess, with how much time this will buy us before they start their pitiful crying at the bedroom door. This can be drowned out with the TV, but the little paws swiping under the crack in the door gets me every time!
Last night we were not thinking, in fact we were not even planning on anything happening. We were both exhausted, work has been hellish for both of us this week, so we actually went to bed kind of early. As we were laying there talking, my husband starts saying how he doesn't understand how he can be so tired and horny all at the same time. Well that was all the incentive I needed, one thing lead to another and his hands are up my t-shirt and I lean over in the dark to give him a hot, passionate kiss and I get a mouthful of... fur. Blech. Seriously cat? Beat it! Our cat Chester has completely taken up residence in the middle of the bed, and he really has no intention of moving his furry little ass. My husband tossed him to the floor as he gave a whiny little mewl in our direction.
I lost count, but I think he came back at least two or three more times before we were done. I sort of just kept batting him off the bed, any other time it would have been a mood killer, but again, we were so tired I don't think we cared.
When all was said and done, the three of us curled up and fell asleep shortly after. I'm not sure where Beaker was this whole time, maybe she was in the kitchen waiting for her cat treats.