The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger (1)

"Henry - do other people have sex as much as we do?"

Henry considers.

"Most people.. no, I imagine not. Only people who haven't known each other very long and still can't believe their luck, I would think. Is it too much?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

I say this looking at my plate. I can't believe I'm saying this; I spent my entire adolescence begging Henry to fuck me and now I'm telling him it's too much. Henry sits very still.

"Clare, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize; I wasn't thinking."

I look up; Henry look stricken. I burst out laughing. Henry smiles, a little guilty, but his eyes are twinkling.

"It's just - you know, there are days when I can't sit down."

"Well.. you just have to say. Say nothing, dear, we've already done it twenty-three times today and I would rather read Bleak House."

"And you will meekly cease and desist?"

"I did, just then didn't I? That was pretty meek."

"Yeah. But then I felt guilty."

Henry laughs.

"You can't expect me to help you out there. It may be my only hope: day after day, week after week, I will languish, starving for a kiss, withering away for want of a blow job, and after a while you will look up from your book and realize that I'm actually going to die at your feet if you don't fuck me immediately but I won't say a word. Maybe a few little whimpering noises."

"But - I don't know, I mean, I'm exhausted, and you seem...fine. Am I abnormal, or something?"

Henry leans across the table and holds out his hands. I place mine in his.

"Clare."

"Yes?"

"It may be indelicate to mention this, but if you will excuse me for saying so, your sex drive far outstrips that of almost all the women I've dated. Most woman would have cried Uncle and turned on their answering machines month ago. But I should have thought... you always seemed into it. But if it's too much, or you don't feel like it, you have to say so, because otherwise I'll be tiptoeing around, wondering if I'm burdening you with my hideous demands."

"But how much sex is enough?"

"For me? Oh, God. My idea of the perfect life would be if we just stayed in bed all the time. We could make love more or less continuously, and only get up to bring in supplies, you know, fresh water and fruit to prevent scurvy, and make occasional trips to the bathroom to shave before diving back into bed. And once in a while we could change the sheets. And go to the movies to prevent bedsores."