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BETWEEN THE ‘SHEETS’ • by Christopher Kastensmidt

First of all, I should never have married a nympho. But how was I to know in those carefree days of my early twenties that there would ever come a time in which I would think about anything besides sex?

I met Sally during my last year of college, at one of her sorority’s parties. A night with a blond sorority girl is every frat boy’s dream, and Sally fit the bill.

“Hey, Tiger,” was the first thing she ever said to me, a half-empty cup of fuzzy navel sloshing around in her left hand.

Can you believe it, a cheesy line like that from a woman? Easy prey, I figured. Little did I know who the real prey was that night.

We hooked up, but from lack of a free bed in the sorority house, I had to take her on a second date to close the deal. We had dinner the next evening and afterwards, Sally obliged my every desire. I considered leaving it at that, but the sex was so good that I went back for seconds. Soon, we were doing it almost every night, sometimes three or four times. And I’m talking wild sex here: all the good stuff.

Whenever I wanted it, Sally was good to go. At least that’s what I thought at first. Soon, however, it dawned on me that she was the one instigating. She would walk through the apartment in a teddy at two p.m., turn on Cinemax on weeknights, casually rub a firm breast on my arm as she looked over my shoulder; the woman was insatiable.

After a year or so, Sally demanded that I “take it to the next level or hit the road.” I grudgingly accepted. How could I give that up?

So I married my nympho girlfriend: first mistake.

My second mistake was buying her the damn thing. The computer, I mean.

A few weeks after our honeymoon a work bonus was burning a hole in my pocket, so I had to blow it on something. I told Sally the computer was a gift for her, but the truth was I wanted to play some video games, and buying a PlayStation seemed childish.

So I showed her how to surf the Internet, use Word–all the typical stuff. To my surprise, she began using it daily. Soon she was asking questions like “What’s a gigabyte? What’s a blog? How do I increase virtual memory?” Within weeks she knew more about the thing than I did. I didn’t have a chance to play my games, but she certainly seemed to enjoy it, so I considered it money well spent.

The years went by, and I knew I wasn’t performing as well as Sally desired. I just got tired, I swear. Marriage, kids, long hours at work…seems like you don’t even have time to think about sex. At least I didn’t.

Then came the day of reckoning.

I came home late from work and she called me into the study. She was sitting in front of the computer and I knew she meant business, because she was wearing her “take me serious” glasses.

“We have a problem,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Our rate of lovemaking has reduced significantly.”

I got defensive. “That’s not true, we’re still doing it maybe three times a week.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re having sex an average of one-point-three times a week. And some weeks, not at all.”

I forced out a nervous chuckle. “One-point-three? What kind of a number is that? That’s nonsense.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Take a look at this!”

That’s when she opened up “the spreadsheet”: hundreds of tiny cells listing every time we had done it for the last three years. And a rating for each one.

“You keep a spreadsheet?”

There it lay before me: modern man’s downfall. For tens of thousands of years, married men could “round up” their sexual activity, with no way to prove otherwise. But then spreadsheets came along and precise analysis was just a touch away.

She didn’t let up. With an ominous click of the mouse she opened a chart. “As you can see by the graph I made, both quantity and quality have been decreasing.”

The line graph on the screen showed a depressing downward curve, subtly implying a different type of limp curve. I never was a big fan of symbolism.

I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked out.

What could I do? For a while I thought of leaving her, I really did. I considered moving to a country without computers, until I saw a report on the news with some Peruvian natives using an Internet kiosk in the middle of the jungle. Unbelievable.

So, I had to accept my situation.

There’s nothing left to do but get lots of exercise, plenty of rest, and try to work my ratio back up.

That, or a carefully placed magnet near the hard drive.

I just wonder if she keeps backups.


If Christopher Kastensmidt could go back and do it all over again, he’d add a twist of lime. His fiction can be found crumpled up in trash bins in four different countries.

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BETWEEN THE 'SHEETS' • by Christopher Kastensmidt, 3.7 out of 5 based on 28 ratings
Posted on September 24, 2007 in Humour/Satire, Stories
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  • Walt Giersbach

    Christopher, you must have read something and had it resonate at the exact moment a rich, philosophical insight was going through your head. “Between the ‘Sheets’” (great title!) popped onto my screen as I was considering how easy computers make it to remember everything and how hard it will be to forget the faux pas we’d hoped to bury in the past.

  • Harley

    The spreadsheet thing is just a genius notion. There’s no reason to lose track of anything anymore! And the line about rounding up–burst of laughter. I love the “take me serious” glasses too. Your bio is my favorite yet.

    PS to Jordan–this didn’t arrive in my e-mail yet.

  • http://www.jordanlapp.com/ Jordan Lapp

    OMG, I kid you not, my girlfriend does this. She has a little calendar with checkmarks on it. Happy faces are for when we do it more than once.

    Harley, This is my fault. I set the “publish” time on this story to be 3:30am, and the feedburner “robot” comes around at 3:00am. You’ll be getting two stories in your inbox tomorrow. My apologies!

  • http://canyonsofgray.blogspot.com DJ Barber

    Happily, I didn’t marry one like that, although, I nearly did. Computers are insidious–at least until the electric goes out.

    Good story! Between the “sheets”–Ha!I missed the emphasis on the first go.

    And my condolences to Jordan on the calendar…

  • http://www.geocities.com/ckastens/ographies.html Christopher Kastensmidt

    Thanks for all the kind comments! It’s great to know when a story resonates with someone. Jordan, your comment about the happy faces had me cracking up!

  • http://bookspot.blogspot.com Camille Gooderham Campbell

    Very funny. The rating system and line graph are just cruel! This cleverly written piece made me laugh, both the first time I read it and today.

  • http://www.abluestar.com/blog/ Steven Smethurst

    I wonder what my graph would look like?

    Excellent story, I really enjoyed it.

  • http://www.jordanlapp.com/ Jordan Lapp

    No condolences necessary, Harley. :D :D :D :D :D

  • Lyn

    Yep, this guy is … screwed.

  • Oonah V Joslin

    I think we would be into negative numbers in our household on both axis……. Never mind, I like other dimensions.

  • http://www.abluestar.com/blog/ Steven Smethurst

    LOL,

  • http://www.jordanlapp.com/ Jordan Lapp

    You know it’s bad when you start unhaving the sex you had three weeks ago ;)

  • http://www/stevegoble.com/blog Steve Goble

    Jordan: I’d keep an eye out to see whether your girlfriend checks off that calendar with different colored ink …

  • http://www.jordanlapp.com/ Jordan Lapp

    LOL! I’ll have to watch out for that red pen.

  • Vanessa Buckner

    I love this story!

    The title grabbed me, the first line grabbed me, I got sucked in, I felt sorry for him, as reality gets broken over this poor guy’s head… very engaging. I couldn’t believe she pulled a spreadsheet on him!

    You want to know what happens to him. Yet at the same time, the story feels complete.

    It gets a smiley face. Heh, heh.

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