I am trying to think of a way to open this post that does not involve this atheist giving a shout out to that big pretend man in the sky. A Christian has the luxury of calling out "Jesus!" in exasperation. An agnostic may venture an "Oh Gawd!" An evangelical Christian will say something totally lame like "Oh my Gosh!". An apostolic friend of mine wouldn't even say "Golly" because she believed that all you are really doing is swallowing your desire to use the Lord's name in vain (but his name is Jehovah according to another door knocking friend, which just confuses things, sorry).

Richard Dawkins likened the belief in God to believing in something equally ridiculous like the Great Teapot in the sky (in fact I think he said it was somewhere in the solar system - look it up if you must). What I feel like saying (because my mother cried it out a few times a day) is "God Almighty!", but perhaps I should say "Oh, Great Teapot!", or "Gene Simmons!" or something else totally ridiculous.

OK, here goes...

Gene Simmons! I have been a bit po-faced in my posts in the last couple of months. So let's talk about sex (tee hee, snort). My old school friends and I had our first weekend together since...we first started having sex (not with each other, silly). Back then we talked it out the door, down the street, and all around the neighbourhood. After years of reading Cosmo, we couldn't get enough of the sex talk, having had REAL sex. I had recently been jilted by my boyfriend so I told them that his penis was the size of an asthma inhaler (ha! The ultimate revenge!). Poor guy. They probably erroneously think that to this day. I am married to him now. Sorry love.

You know what? During the weekend with my friends, a couple of wines and we were back to the sex talk, albeit with a twist now a few of us have kids. We discussed how often and how long we waited after giving birth. We gave sympathetic nods while discussing pedestrian "making a baby sex". Then there were the war stories - women's bits that look like they have been hit by a cluster bomb after a third degree tear, big saggy boobs, small saggy boobs, infrequent sex post marriage, post baby, post 30.

But my favourite part was the common feeling that our men had lost the art of seduction. There is something stultifyingly unsexy about your man asking for sex. Like when you are in the middle of slathering moisturiser all over your face while toothpaste foam is dripping down your chin because you are also busy with the electric toothbrush, and you hear a meek voice call out from the bedroom, "Can we have sex tonight?" My friend's husband will nonchalantly ask her while reading the paper, or surfing the internet. If she says, "No", he carries on reading as if she had turned down a cup of tea, or passed comment on the exchange rate.

It's not like this stuff is terribly important to us, we are just a bunch of old perverts who like to have a good "snort your wine out your nose" laugh after a couple of drinks.