Lack of communication.
They are facing opposite directions and neither of them feels like rolling over.
They could barely get into, and now can’t get out of, their pants.
They have been inhabiting the same physical space for many years and any sense of mystery or spontaneity has been sucked out of the room by their building’s recently improved air-filtration system.
They have yet to return to a consistent shower-every-day schedule.
The new season of Ozark /The Great British Bake Off /The Real Housewives of Literally Anywhere requires their immediate attention.
They didn’t realize the fetishes they were willing to entertain during the honeymoon phase would be lifelong commitments.
They are listing all the ways in which “sex is great, but have you tried…(reading a book instead)”
They already hit their move goal for the day.
It’s not date night.
They are drunk. Or one of them.
It’s date night, but wouldn’t it be more exciting if their sex didn’t feel so prescriptive?
They ordered and ate three pizzas before passing out on each other while watching a true-crime documentary.
It’s raining.
It’s sunny.
Masturbation is more efficient.
They are waiting for more advanced sex robots.
They injured themselves opening a bottle of wine and a can of olives.
They are binge-watching The Watcher and compared to the sexual energy of that couple, their level of attraction seems inadequate.
They are never not tired.
They think they have COVID.
Fuck, they most definitely have COVID.
Their pandemic puppy insists on watching and it’s freaking them out.
Their ongoing conversation about the irreversible destruction of the environment is terrible foreplay.
The constant threat of nuclear warfare is terrible foreplay.
Thinking about the next election is terrible foreplay.
Their fear of accidentally bringing a (another) child into this godforsaken world is greater than their faith in modern methods of contraception.
This weighted anxiety blanket is preventing them from climbing on top of each other.
Their are talking about why they are not having sex with their sex therapist.
They say, “We are definitely going to have sex tomorrow.”
Or other pets than dogs disrupt their sex life. Aka, weird excuses.
Miniature Pony
A miniature pony is the true neutral of sexual disruption. It is out in the yard, minding its business. It wants no part in your relations and, frankly, is a little affronted that you would even ask.
Hamster
Minor dysfunction may occur. Although hamsters generally keep to themselves, the sound of the hamster toiling away on its tiny treadmill can certainly kill the mood.
Parrot
It depends on the parrot. Some may vocalize their encouragement, but most do not. There once was a parrot who never spoke, only sneezed. It turned out there was no health concern; it was merely repeating the last vocal emissions of its previous owner, who had died of a sneezing fit many years before. This was known as the mystery of the sneezing parrot, and it cast all thoughts of lovemaking asunder.
Ferret
It’s not that ferrets do anything to deter copulation; it’s more that there is an actual ferret owner involved.
Cat
Cats came here to do two things: drink some beer and block some cock. And it looks like they’re all out of beer. But seriously, cats are passionate about nipping coitus in the bud. Scientists agree this is why they developed such a stealthy approach, so that a blast of tuna breath and those kneading little paws come out of nowhere, right at the worst moment.
Goldfish
Goldfish are a death sentence for sexual relations. Their glassy eyes follow you around, seeing what they see. Reflecting their uncanny visions and memories: childhood dreams mangled in the fun-house mirror of your disillusionment. If you can enjoy intimacy while a dead-eyed demon floats silently in the room, then your powers are mighty, and we salute you.
Farewell and good luck out there, lovers!
