How Many Times We Did It

Okay, by “it,” I really do mean “it.”

This weekend the family was discussing a unique party we had about 13 years ago, a type of party I can’t help but wonder may be the only one of its kind in human history. If you have ever attended a similar one, by all means let me know—I’d love to hear about it.

It was my and Davie’s 500 Party, celebrating our 500 times.

Whenever we tell people about this festive gathering (and no, we don’t tell everyone), the spoken or unspoken question is always, “You keep count?” My ready answer is, “Please keep in mind that I was married for 15 years to a gay guy before my marriage to David.” Yes, I keep count to this day. Kinda funny, but when you’ve been counting up to 500, you really feel like you might as well keep track.

So, how does one hold a 500 Party? Well, you don’t want to be tacky about it. Although…I will admit it was a little tacky for me to sing “We’ve had sex 500 times and we’ll have sex 500 more” to the tune of that 1988 hit by The Proclaimers. But mostly we simply sported our simple “500” buttons and put “500” signs on the lawn.

The only possible controversy arises concerning the involvement of my daughters, then ages 15 and 12, in the party prep. As they were piping 500’s in frosting onto a couple dozen brownies, they were not ignorant of the meaning of the party theme. They were also aware of how crazy (in a completely healthy way, of course) our particular gang of friends would get at said party. But our crew was a bunch of fun-loving, perfectly functional, responsible adults and they were all really fond of the girls. Which is not to say we didn’t consider it best that they spent the night elsewhere.

So, to that mix add food, plenty of beer, and some great 80s music, and that’s a 500 Party.

My older daughter likes to joke that things like this “scarred her for life.” But she was actually no more embarrassed about it than any of the other things that embarrassed her about me when she was 15. As in, “Mom, PLEASE don’t dance.” Her sister said the other day, “I’ve always been really glad that you guys were so open about it, like there was nothing to be ashamed of. It made me feel comfortable talking about that stuff with you.”

And that, really, was the general idea. As much as Davie and I are private about this stuff, and very monogamous and trusting, and as much as we take sex very seriously, we are also big believers that it is nothing to be ashamed of. If a married couple can’t have a couple dozen friends over to celebrate a great occasion like 500, then what is the world coming to?

For me, especially, it was a wonderful and happy thing. I imagine most old married couples take for granted that they make love regularly, but if you are like me, you don’t. There was a time when my acceptance of being married to a gay man (and why I accepted that is a long story) had me convinced I would never have male physical affection, much less sex, in my life again. So I treasure greatly both the number we are at now (wouldn’t you like to know?) as well as the approximately 5,000 cuddle cabs (as we call snuggling at night).

And OMG, as I type this the PC radio is playing that old 500 Miles Proclaimers song. What are the odds of that? I guess I was supposed to tell you this story today.