Sex every day: would you do it?

So every week, while I’m writing my Wonderland column, Scott asks me if there’s anything he can do to help. Every week I ask him what he could possibly do. Write it for me? Massage my feet while I write? Massage his own feet while he watches me write? Then he says “fine, whatever,” and stomps out of the room. (Maybe there’s not so much stomping. But he does seem miffed.)
This week I planned to write about the article in the New York Times about the two couples who embarked on every-day-sex marathons, and I thought that finally my husband could be useful. Finally! I figured Scott would be good for some insights, or at least some words that would fill up a screen. And so:
“Hey, sweetie, did you read the article in the Times about the couples who had sex every day?”
“I did. Why? Are we going to have sex every day?”
“Uh, no. I was just wondering what you thought. Because I’m writing my column about it, you see.”
“I see. We can have sex every day, if you want.”
“That really wasn’t what I was getting at.”
“I should shower.”
“We’re not having sex every day, Scott. I was asking your opinion. About the article.”
“Oh. I don’t know—it seemed pretty arbitrary. Like they just did it so they could say they did it. What did they get out of it, besides all that sex?”
A book deal, I think. “I think they felt closer, and, um, happier?”
“Oh, right. Sure. Still, it seems like a lot of pressure. Like when you’re trying to conceive, and you have to do it.”
“Except there’s not as much riding on it. Because you don’t have to achieve, you know, ultimate satisfaction.”
“That’s crazy. What would be the point? Unless you’re Sting.”
“Um, emotional intimacy?”
“That’s not sex, though– it’s exercise. Not to mention an exercise. In disappointment.”
“Not finishing negates the entire event?”
“I mean, maybe it’s different for you women…”
Things went downhill from there. (Note to readers: he was joking, with that last part.) We discussed what would be defined as “sex” (I will leave up to your imagination the cataloguing of acts that followed) , and there was a lot of giggling. We are not adults.
As for the article, yes, I can see that there’s a definite appeal to the idea. Besides the obvious, that is. Sex being, you know, enjoyable, and stuff. For one, committing to doing it every day eliminates the pressure to romance it up, every time; if it’s every day, every day doesn’t have to be a torrid lovefest. It can be mechanical and joyless. Also, brief. I’m talking you into this idea right now!
The all-or-nothing mentality of all this is very American of us, it strikes me. It’s like embarking on a monthlong juicing fast when all you need is a multivitamin. (And yes, I’m comparing sex to juicing. ) If your marriage is lacking a certain level of intimacy, can’t you just, you know, have sex a little more? Can’t you commit to spending more quality time together, or something?
Not that I’m trying to talk you all out of a grueling regimen of daily sex, if that’s what you think’s going to do the trick. If the plan makes you happy, who am I to tell you to come up with a new one? (And if you were already having sex every day without ever picking up the Sunday Times, who am I to tell you anything. Period.) But if the idea leaves you imagining yourself sore and cranky by day 30, all I’m saying is, I bet there are other methods of improving your relationship. Besides, the every-day-sex book has already been done. Twice. And now I’d like to introduce you to my new book: Take Him Up On All His Meaningless Offers of Assistance: A 30-Day Plan to Achieve Marital Bliss, and Make Him Do All the Work. Less sexy, definitely, but you’re sure to be a lot less tired by the end.
As always, I await your (sexy) personal experiences and opinions.