I really don't care!

Something happened recently which suddenly put sex, porn and all that crap into perspective.
My wife’s pregnant. (No, that’s not it.)

What was it, was the appearance of blood where there shouldn’t be any.
Sudden, panicky miscarriage scare.
Screaming to the hospital, exercising blatant disregard for such technicalities as speed limits. (Not red lights though. I’m not stupid!)

Prodding was done, scans were taken, samples were… sampled.
(Obviously, it’s ok, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this so flippantly.)
Questions were asked: “Will it stop?”
Shoulders were shrugged: “Not necessarily.”
Things were realised by my wife: “No more sex, then.”
And by me: “I really don’t care.”

Of course, I expected a while without sex during pregnancy.
I didn’t expect it to start quite this soon, but… I really don’t care. It’s far more important to know that little one is ok. (That sentence doesn’t do the reality any justice, does it?)

The Addict, of course, will want – nay, expect – some compensation for an extended sex-drought.

Well the Addict can go swivel, ’cos there is no way any kid of mine is getting brought up in a house where there's porn to be found.

Addict, meet a Sense of Perspective...