The Greatest of Concerns: “Intimacy”

Halloween 2014: Snow White and Michael Keaton getting close.

The list of concerns I have regarding full-time RV life is slowly starting to change. My initial worries revolved mostly around the question of “what will I do for work?” A simple search at ThinkEnergyGroup brought up a list of some 30 Engineering contract jobs that fit my exact title, alone – not including dozens more technician jobs that I am qualified to perform.

Oh, and those positions are only from the last few weeks. Needless to say, none of these jobs are a sure thing … but somebody in that group should be willing to hire me for three months. Working a portion of the year would likely cover annual expenses, given that the overhead of a four-figure mortgage will be off the table. 6 months on, 6 months off, at worst? Jiminy cricket could make a song about that.

The concern of how to make money while travelling seems to be fading into more of a ‘reminder’ than a tormenting anxiety that my children will starve. There will always be work and if the worst comes to fruition, we’ll just make base near a new job for a while.

But where one concern begins to fade, a new one begins to emerge. Yes, a new concern presented itself over the weekend during our Smoky Mountain excursion. More important than money. More important than food. More important than the air I breath at times. The concern?


That’s right. I just used a really polite word for sex. And I’m going to continue to use that polite word because it makes me more approachable. Maybe even ‘relatable’ to the ladies reading this blog. These statements have been made through the ‘recommendation’ of my wife.

The cabin we rented last weekend wasn’t much designed for privacy. The ceiling boards for the boys’ room were the floorboards of our room. In this way, the cracks in the floor gave you a clear view of what was happening above or below you. Likewise, the sounds of each environment rang between the two rooms with little disturbance. I could hear my kids whispering. I could hear them moving around in bed. I’m pretty sure I even heard one of them breathing when things quieted down.

So what hope did that leave me in trying to get frisky with the Mrs.? I could barely roll over to her, let alone nibble on her toes (say what?) without alerting the whole cabin. I imagine pursuing my carnal desires any further would have awoken the entire mountainside.

“Goodness, Martha! It sounds like two bears scrapping out there!”

“Is there a thunderstorm blowing through, tonight?”

“There must be some ordinance against chopping down trees at this hour!”

Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit … but I don’t think so. If I were akin to any super hero, it would be Austin Powers (and if you don’t consider him a super hero, then you’re not catching my drift here.)

But all of this got me thinking (a difficult task in and of itself) – what are we going to do about this in the future? Living in an RV, how can I unleash the beast within me? For starters, I don’t think anything will take place during the day ever again … or at least for the next 15 years (which might as well be ‘forever’ to my caveman brain.) My bare bottom may never know sunlight, here going forward. 

Currently the kids are little, sleep like rocks, and don’t know what mommy and daddy are doing. But how long will this charade last? Our excuse of having a ‘lengthy discussion behind closed doors’ has worked twice so far but might be running its course, soon. You can only ‘talk about birthday presents’ so many times. As they grow into tweens and teenagers, the kids will stay up later and become privy to ‘feelings’ that boys and girls have. Eventually it will just be awkward. Then they’ll learn what it all actually means which is some sort of doomsday scenario for all parties involved. Well, I should say for them and my wife. I don’t think anything short of the Earth ripping in two and hurdling towards the sun would stop me from ‘knowing’ my beloved wife.

I often wonder how they pulled this off in the old days where everyone lived in a two-bedroom cabin, at best. Back then they would pop out, like, two dozen kids so it had to be even harder to get away with. I guess that’s where the whole ‘roll in the hay’ saying came from. So I suppose now is the time for me to invest in a couple of hay bales.

To summarize, I am concerned that afternoon delights will become a fond memory … but for the sake of our plans and being with my family full time, I will bear this great burden. My wife and I will just have to connect amongst the stars, engulfed in moonlight. Quietly. With no heavy-breathing. Or kissing. Maybe hugging, but not too hard. Wish me luck, America.

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