I’ve been married for 8 years — this is what a week in our sex life actually looks like

This week’s diarist is struggling to fit her sex live in between moving (Picture: Myles Goode/ Getty) Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger. This week we hear from Mimi*, a 30-year-old married content creator in Shrewsbury, who typically has sex four times a week. She’s been with her husband Harry* for eight years, and describes her sex life as ‘pretty normal’. ‘I like having sex with my husband but could happily go days without it,’ Mimi says. ‘My libido is generally dictated by what’s happening in my life, how stressed I am, so with us in the process of moving house, we haven’t been having it very often. ‘I’d like my sex life to be a bit more varied. We fall into doing the same things over and over it can get a bit repetitive. I wish we were a bit more adventurous.’ Mimi also worries about how her sex life will be affected, as the couple prepare to have a family. ‘My sex drive goes way down when I’m tired, so I know adding a baby into that is just going to see me turn into a completely sexless being,’ she says. ‘I think it’s going to be a bit of a shock for my husband who is in denial about that.’ Sign up to The Hook-Up, Metro's sex and dating newsletter Love reading juicy stories like this? Need some tips for how to spice things up in the bedroom? Sign up to The Hook-Up and we'll slide into your inbox every week with all the latest sex and dating stories from Metro. We can't wait for you to join us! Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. So without further ado, here’s how Poppy got on this week… The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work. Monday I’d never understood why everyone says moving house is one of life’s most stressful events. But, now I’m pulling my hair out while we wait the last few days for the keys to our new place. After five years, my husband and I are swapping our two-bedroom new-build for a three-bedroom 70s semi. We’ve outgrown our first house and after six months of waiting, we are finally due to move this week. In typical us fashion, we’ve left packing until the last minute so the house is a whirlwind of bubble wrap and bin bags. Between all the boxes, I barely have time to pee, never mind think about sex. After 17 hours of packing, I’m fast asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. Tuesday Once I get home from work, I change out of my work clothes and into pyjamas, ready to tackle the kitchen. We managed most of the packing over the weekend. It’s just the last little bits here and there. We finally crawl into bed, exhausted. We kiss and cuddle up together, but I’m too tired for much more. Taking the lead, Harry fingers me. I can’t keep my eyes open, but he keeps checking I want it before touching me tenderly until I orgasm. Content and relaxed, we spoon until we drift off. Wednesday Our last night in the house doesn’t feel sad. I’m over it at this point, having your whole life packed up into boxes and IKEA bags gives you a weird feeling. We actually manage to eat pizza on the floor while watching a film on a laptop. Our bed was dismantled and sent to the tip. We’d broken it months ago so it’s not worth keeping. I wish I could say it broke because of our voracious sex life, but really it was a cheap Argos bed that lived way longer than it had any business doing. So, it’s a living room sleepover for us! I’m on the sofa, and Harry is on the floor, surrounded by boxes. Unable to sleep from excitement, his hand sneaks up and he pulls me on top of him, kissing and touching me all over. All the stress from the last week evaporates as the horniness takes over. I end up on my back on the floor, wedged between the sofa and a pile of boxes, legs akimbo resting on top of the cardboard. It’s a bit claustrophobic, and I can’t actually move or do anything since I’m truly jammed in, but with the boxes to rest on, my legs are high in the air making for an amazing angle as he thrusts on top of me. This must be what its like to have a sex swing, a couple of boxes has me feeling like a gymnast. It feels great, and I know my husband feels the same as he comes quickly, both of us trying not to laugh at how silly we must look. Thursday It’s moving day! Between the early start and the nerves, I’m tired but things go as well as they could’ve. I only cry twice, and suddenly we’re in our new house, surrounded by chaos with no idea where we put the kettle. We spend a few hours rummaging for the essentials but the big problem comes when I want nothing more than to curl up into bed. Despite careful planning, the new bed has not been delivered. So, I curl up on the floor, using sofa cushions and blankets to build a nest. It’s not the most romantic sleeping arrangement, so when Harry sidles over to grab my boob, I shut him down quickly. Friday I’m straight back to work today, after storming round the house looking for my shoes and figuring out how the shower works. I leave my husband snoring on the floor. Walking back in through the front door at 6 pm is a treat. Harry has managed to unpack the whole kitchen and make the living room livable, so the house doesn’t feel like a bomb site. His hard work is rewarded as I go down on him on the sofa. He tries to take it further, pulling me up onto him and swiftly taking off my top in the same motion. But as I start grinding on him, the couch screams out an almighty clunk like it was going to give way any second, so sex is swiftly abandoned. Saturday Movies make painting a house look fun and romantic. You think it’s going to be splattering paint on each other in between snogs, when in reality you stand there in your scruffiest clothes having arguments holding a paint roller. With no sexy distractions, we paint the entire downstairs. We reward ourselves with a beer and a shag. We start up against a door, kissing and moaning as he pushes my paint-covered shorts down, before fully just doing it on the floor since our bed still hasn’t been delivered. I’m on my hands and knees with him behind me, but he complains of getting friction burn on his knees so we swap to me riding him. It’s a nice distraction to the chaos, and it feels good to have some actual intimacy, even if I’m missing a real bed. It feels naughty rather than annoying, and I come quickly with him not far behind. Sunday Finally our bed has been delivered. Hallelujah. But, I don’t celebrate for long, as the delivery men won’t carry it upstairs. Cue an argument between Harry and I as we get snippy while we lumber the headboard around. We don’t normally argue. We genuinely are pretty easy going, but the stress of the move gets to us I suppose. I hate feeling like we’re not on the same side. I know it’s the situation, but a disconnect between us is something I really don’t like. But, when we finally get the bed built and made with brand new sheets, we share a wicked look, clambering into our fresh bed and whipping our clothes off. It’s nothing more than a desperate quickie, like horny teenagers whose parents are about to come home, but lying in our bed with that post sex afterglow is delicious. We keep things pretty vanilla, sticking to missionary and finishing way before we can do anything more adventurous. When we’re done, I feel a wave of calm wash over me. We curl up together, sharing the same pillow, our new house finally feeling more like home. Do you have a story you’d like to share? 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