A contributor friend of ours, who wished to remain anonymous, has a confession to make:
I’m all for showering independently, quickly toweling off, and jumping back into bed for sex — that‚Äôs a good start to any morning. But if you want me to actually join you in the shower, you should know that I’ll be bringing my elbow and knee pads:
1. Under the unforgiving bathroom lights (bright! bright! bright!), it’s hard not to notice your partner’s bodily flaws (i.e. “Oh, you have more of a beer belly than I thought…”).
2. Which means, of course, that he’s probably noticing my flaws, too. I imagine him looking at me and thinking, “Wow, she does wear a push-up bra. Those don‚Äôt even look like the same boobs to me.” Not that he hasn’t seen them before, but sheets and dim lighting have their advantages.
3. It gets awfully slippery (and not in a good way). It just can’t be a good idea to lift up a leg and wrap it around your partner when there’s all that soap and shampoo hanging around. Throw in a horrible sense of balance and a hard tub floor and all I can picture is an embarrassing trip to the E.R.
4. With all that water running, the places you do want to stay slippery don’t.
5. It’s just too crowded. Most showers aren’t built for two, which results in awkward fumbling and the occasional minor concussion when you both bend over to pick up the soap at the same time.
6. How am I supposed to deep-condition my hair and wash my face if he’s hanging around afterwards? It’s even worse when he tries to shampoo my hair — come on, he’s supposed to be the boyfriend, not the stylist. And I really don’t want a guy to see me use my clay exfoliating mask.
7. My showers aren’t always lingering, self-indulgent affairs, of course — but when they’re not, it’s usually because I’m running late for work, which means I definitely don’t have time for shower sex.
Agree? Disagree? Discuss.