Not tonight darling, I’m off to bed with Don Draper!
... or how box sets are killing off passion
On A Friday evening, when my husband, Brian, and i have the house to ourselves (we have three children — one in her early 20s, one at university and a teenager with a more active social life than ours) we like to slip into something a little more comfortable.
But sadly it’s not a negligee. For me, it’s a pair of slouchy pyjamas and for Brian — a pyjama refuser — it means untucking the shirt and loosening the belt.
then we draw the curtains because really, to do this properly, the room needs to be dark, or at least dimly lit.
Finally, we’re ready. But instead of a kiss or caress, Brian will say ‘Six Feet Under’ or perhaps ‘the Wire?’ Either way, i’m up for it.
the truth is, we’re box-set bingers — far more likely to be watching homeland from start to end (there have been five series so far) than enjoying a kiss and a cuddle on the sofa.
there are lots of us out there: consenting adults in long-term relationships who spend so much time indulging an addiction to tV drama that we’re not leaving time for making love. David Spiegelhalter, a Cambridge professor, said this week that if our preference for screen-based entertainment continues at its current rate, we’ll be having no sex at all by 2030.
While this may not bode well for the future of the human race, i can’t say i’m surprised, because for instant gratification and profound satisfaction, you can’t beat ‘Box Sex’, as it’s been dubbed.
there’s something far more seductively compelling about watching Don Draper in Mad Men than a (nudge-nudge, winkwink) ‘early night’.
Once upon a time, there would have been no question of the telly dampening our ardour. But at 53 the lure of seasons one to five of the West Wing is a temptation we can’t resist.
LEt’S face it, after 23 years of marriage, you know exactly what you’re going to get in the bedroom, whereas in a firstrate drama, well... anything can happen, and often does.
A shared passion for tV is not a new element to our marriage. Far from it. in the early days, we bonded over Coronation Street.
the arrival of babies forced us to kick that habit, although we soon picked up new ones. We watched Friends when you had to wait a week for the next episode, and a year for the next series.
We discovered our first box set, the Sopranos, when the children were a little older and we were able to flop in front of the tV once they were in bed. But we’d never have watched episodes back-to-back as we do now. it wouldn’t have seemed decent.
Mind you, i can’t honestly say we were chasing each other up the stairs to bed in those days, either — we seemed to spend years when our children were small, longing for nights of wild, passionate sleep.
now, though, we get all the sleep we need, and perhaps if we gave up box sets, who knows what amorous adventures we might discover? But instead we’ve become wickedly promiscuous television viewers, and i have to confess that i’m probably worse than Brian.
i watched the entire third season of the Bridge over two nights when he was away recently, feeling guilty because i knew he wanted to see it, too, but not able to stop myself.
‘i’ve seen all of the Bridge,’ i confessed when he came home, and he looked as if i’d told him i was leaving him for the milkman.
the trouble is, it’s just too easy to binge. Either you have the whole luscious set of DVDs in front of you, or the virtual equivalent on netflix or Amazon Prime.
‘Shall we do another one?’ i’ll say, hypnotised into over-indulgence by the Machiavellian Francis Underwood in house Of Cards or the enigmatic Rust Cohle in true Detective.
Sometimes Brian reluctantly says no, because he’s already fallen asleep twice, or his back’s aching from slumping on the sofa for too long.
Other times he says yes, and that’s another hour in front of the telly when we could be upstairs, asleep or otherwise, but probably asleep.
BRIAN SAYS . . .
nEVER mind compatibility in bed, Jane and i have become soulmates on the sofa, which, now we’re heading towards our mid-50s, seems more important.
that said, like most middleaged married men, i wouldn’t mind a bit more sex than i get.
Still, there are bigger obstacles to a happy marriage than a slight inequality on the libido front. if she hadn’t loved Breaking Bad as much as i did, it would have been more awkward than one of us having a fancy for kinky roleplay in bed, and the other not.
So, i couldn’t agree more with Cambridge academic David Spiegelhalter when he blames box sets, netflix and the like for a decline in the amount of sex we’re all having. not that i would use the word ‘blame’. i’m all for it.
Either way, the statistics are startling. in the UK, we apparently did it an average of five times a month in 1990, four times a month in 2000, only three times monthly in 2010, and even less now.
Recently — during an episode of Vinyl, another must-see series — i found myself stealing frequent sideways glances at Jane, next to me on the sofa, to check how much she was enjoying it.
i was once told by my mother that i should be gentle and considerate to any sexual partner i might have. i was 16, chubby and bit spotty, and i remember thinking chance would be a fine thing.
But on the sofa the other night, i quietly congratulated myself for my choice of viewing: as my mother said, if it doesn’t give your partner equal satisfaction, you might as well do it on your own. Watch the box, that is.