Cosmo Challenge: Play strip trivia. Ask each other questions like, "What's my favorite restaurant?" and "Where was our first date?" Whoever answers incorrectly has to remove an item of clothing.

Warning to readers: Part of what I'm about to write is not sexy. In fact it's so unsexy that I felt the need to do a redo. But I wanted to be honest with all of you, which is why I'm sharing both stories: The first attempt, which made me feel like D. and I were a couple who's been together for 40 years. And not in an awww cute way. In a we are waaay too comfortable, this-is-getting-asexual way. Ugh. The second attempt made me feel like D. and I were a couple who's been together for, oh, three days and couldn't get enough of each other.

I had emailed D. earlier in the day to say, "By the way, we'll be playing strip trivia tonight. Start coming up with ideas.

D. came over to my place after work and we ate dinner...in pajamas...in front of the TV...me, faux complaining about how when we watch DVR'd shows, he's so bad at hitting Play at the right time so that we don't see any commercial, but also don't miss any of the show. I know, a picture of romance, right?

Finally, I stood up and turned off the TV. I was going to turn this runaway train of unsexiness around. Right after I picked off the piece of rice that had fallen from my sushi roll and stuck to my yoga pants. "Let's get you out of those clothes," I told D. with a smile.

We went into my room and he lay down on the bed in a pin-up pose, which made me laugh out loud, but didn't do much for my libido.

"OK, how does this work?" I asked, standing over him. "I ask a question and if you get it wrong, you take something off, right? But what about if you get it right?"

"Then you take something off," he responded.

"Yeah, except I'm only taking off my shirt. And I'm not wearing a bra. And I don't feel like putting one back on. And maybe I'll take off my pants, but nothing else."

"How fun for me," D. said, sarcastically, but I knew he was only half-serious. "Are you serious?"

"I feel like crap, I'm having a fat day, so yeah, I'm serious. So ask easy questions that I'll get right."

We got into bed and I started. (Note: I've slightly changed some of the questions and answers so they don't give away our secret identities!)

"Where did I first say I love you?"

D. got a big grin on his face. "Ohhh easy one. I can't forget that. Over brunch the morning after a party at Sarah's."

Ding ding ding. I took my shirt off...at least halfway. I was exposed, but it was still on one arm. He went next.

"What is my brother's middle name?"

"Start taking off those socks because I so know this. Also because you're wearing socks with shorts. In bed. Garrett!"

D. slowly reached down and coyly removed his socks then threw them in the hamper, the whole time maintaining eye contact with a lusty gaze.

"What was my first pet's name?" I asked.

He mulled it over for a while then exclaimed, "Pepper! Because the dog was white and black!"

I have never owned a dog. And I've never owned a pet named Pepper. Nor have I owned a white and black pet. Or a pet with fur. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but no. It was a guinea pig and her name was Lollipop. Get naked."

He took off his shirt. And readers, here is when I started getting really tired. I know it's lame. But I was exhausted! And not even a hot male chest would get me going. Lame, lame, lame I am.

"What was the name of the restaurant we went to on our first date?" D. continued, unaware of my drowsiness.

"Frank," I mumbled and I watched him take off his pants.

I don't remember much else after that. D. tells me we went through a few more questions, but all I know is that the next morning I woke up with my shirt tangled around one of my arms, next to a boy who was naked all but for his boxer briefs.

Duh. Press. Ing. Seriously, I had a moment of panic that morning. Like, Is this what's become of us? Are we that couple? I had that thought in the back of my head all day and while I didn't really think we were going to turn into some sad, sexless relationship overnight, I was worried that this could be a taste of what was to come. I know you're probably thinking I'm overdramatic and that any girl could be expected to act the same way from time to time. But there was something more going on. Something I'm having trouble putting into words. But it just left a pit in my stomach that gave me a bad case of the uh-ohs. And even if it—it being a sexless relationship—didn't happen for ten or twenty or fifty years, I was worried.

So that night when I got to D.'s apartment that night, I turned the runaway sexless train around. And for reals this time.

Luckily, his roommate was on a business trip. Every more luckily, I wasn't having a fat day. The sex gods were smiling down upon us.

I had met up with a friend for a glass of wine beforehand and was feeling uninhibited and frisky. A good combination. As soon as I walked in the door, I pinned D. up against the wall and kissed him hello. On his right nipple. "Honey, I'm home," I whispered while taking off his shirt.

He looked dumbstruck. Probably because of my 180 transformation. I kicked off my ballet flats, took off my dress, then lead him into his bedroom wearing just a bra and boyshorts.

And from there, here is what happened: missionary, girl-on-top, doggy style, oral sex (performed on him), up against the wall, missionary with my head hanging off the bed. And I was loud. Porn star loud.

I came, he came, we all came.

I woke up the next morning with a shirt tangled around my arm. Except this time it was D.'s shirt, not mine which I had fallen asleep half-wearing like the night before.

Have you ever had a moment of panic like I had, when you realize you might be headed down a very unsexy path with your guy? How did you turn things around? And back to the challenge: Have you ever played strip trivia or strip poker or strip anything else?

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