A Stay-at-Home Dad Documents His Sex Life on a Fitbit

For dinner, make Lisa’s favorites: Southwestern kale with black bean salad and organic chicken soup. Thoughtfully leave out the black beans since Lisa complained that they made her gassy during her early-morning hot yoga class.

Heartrate: 81 bpm

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Set the table with the wine glasses we use only for Thanksgiving and the silver candelabra with hanging crystal hearts I bought on sale last week at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

Heartrate: 86 bpm

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Give Lisa smoldering, seductive looks from across the table during dinner, while Piper smears chewed kale on the wall and Caleb burps loudly while picking craisins from the salad with his fingers.

Heartrate: 74 bpm

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Wash dishes, scour the countertops and stove. Spend an extra five minutes scrubbing the spinach and chia seed residue from Lisa’s Vitamix Turboblend 4500.

Heartrate: 91 bpm

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Bathe the children, get them in jammies, read a bedtime story about an ambitious rooster that dreams of becoming a trapeze artist. Tuck them them into bed and sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” five times until they fall into a peaceful slumber.

Heartrate: 94 bpm

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Stand in our bedroom doorway as Lisa changes into satin boxers and a tight tank top. Casually mention the healthy dinner, spotless kitchen, bathed children, and extra-clean Vitamix Turboblend 4500. Wait for Lisa to offer a sexual reward for the many well-done domestic tasks. When Lisa offers nothing, take a more direct route and ask Lisa if tonight is convenient for sexual relations. Remind Lisa it’s been two weeks since our last coupling.

Heartrate: 96 bpm

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Do a vigorous fist pump in the hallway after Lisa checks her phone for any morning meetings, glances at her watch, and then consents to sexual relations.

Heartrate: 98 bpm

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Prepare for our amorous encounter: brush and floss teeth, apply Acqua di Gio to neck and earlobes, scrub my private parts vigorously with a hot washrag in case Lisa feels wild tonight, like last February when she drank too many margaritas at her book club and actually suggested that we make love that night on our bedroom floor.

Heartrate: 87 bpm

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Lie on the bed and wait as Lisa finishes the final chapter of Vampire Chronicles: Volume 1. Give more smoldering, seductive looks and hope that Lisa sees the enormous bulge protruding from my flannel pjs.

Heartrate: 66 bpm

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Listen patiently as Lisa recounts the entire plot of Vampire Chronicles: Volume 1. Nod eagerly and hope my energetic headshaking disperses the cologne and puts Lisa in a sexy mood.

Heartrate: 83 bpm

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Strip off my flannel pjs and fold them neatly before setting them on the nightstand. Nibble Lisa’s earlobes. Massage her left butt cheek.

Heartrate: 101 bpm

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Jump out of the bed quickly when Lisa gives a loud, nonsexual gasp because she might have heard a strange noise in the kitchen.

Heartrate: 114 bpm

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Tiptoe naked through the house clutching Piper’s tee-ball bat. Check the door locks. Peek through the living room drapes and see two cats, bathed in milky moonlight, humping on the front lawn. Stand there a moment and envy the humping cats.

Heartrate: 110 bpm

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Return to the room to assure Lisa that all is well, and then wait patiently as she finishes the first chapter of Vampire Chronicles: Volume 2.

Heartrate: 74 bpm

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Massage Lisa’s breasts and trill playfully into her ear about how I can’t wait to read the entire Vampire Chronicles series — after I finish scrapbooking our summer vacation to Disneyworld and Gatorland.

Heartrate: 99 bpm

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Quickly dismount Lisa when the bedroom door swings open and Caleb’s standing there. Walk Caleb to his room and promise pony rides, inflatable castles, a large Slurpee, and a bag of Sour Patch Kids if he’ll just stay the hell in bed. When Caleb asks why I’m naked, say very nonchalantly that daddy fell out of his clothes.

Heartrate: 109 bpm

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Return to Lisa’s breasts, but wait as she taps out a concerned text to a coworker about the subpar quinoa and arugula salad both ordered for lunch. Look at a picture of the salad on Instagram and agree with Lisa that, indeed, some of the arugula looked rather wilted.

Heartrate: 66 bpm

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Kiss Lisa passionately on the lips. Lick her right earlobe. Moan as Lisa uses her fingernails to firmly massage a small spot over my left shoulder blade. Feel that Lisa must really be turned on because usually she’s never into foreplay.

Heartrate: 106 bpm

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Suddenly realize that Lisa’s picking at a large blackhead on my back! Listen patiently as Lisa criticizes the Suave Refreshing Splash Shower Gel I’ve used since college and then extols her Chanel Coco Bath Bar for its pleasing fragrance and invigorating moisturizers. Promise Lisa that I will take better care of my skin by drinking more water, applying sunscreen daily, and using a body soap with natural oils.

Heartrate: 65 bpm

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Lightly bite Lisa’s elbow as I affectionately rub her kneecaps, but stop when Lisa realizes that she forgot to take her birth control pill. Listen attentively as she says that there’s no way in hell she’s ever going to put on all that baby weight again and wear those hideous maternity pants with the elastic waistband.

Heartrate: 103 bpm

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Sprint to the bathroom for Lisa’s pill and a glass of water.

Heartrate: 113 bpm

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Return to the bedroom to find Lisa wearing her Brookstone sleeping mask, snoring loudly.

Heartrate: 89 bpm

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Walk to the bathroom and rummage under the sink until I find the worn 2011 Victoria’s Secret Fall Fashion Catalog that I stashed in a box of old washrags and luffa sponges. Turn to the “Satin Indulgences” section with the busty brunette who looks like Anne Hathaway in The Dark Knight Rises. Imagine Catwoman/Anne Hathaway straddling the Batcycle in tight black leather and that sexy feline mask.

Heartrate: 140 bpm

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Suddenly notice the full-color, two-page living room spread in the open Crate & Barrel catalog that I was browsing during my morning bowel movement. My heart begins to pound and my face flushes with the sight of all that gorgeous furniture, the buxom Rochelle leather sofa, the creamy decorative pillows, and the beautifully erect Tribeca floor lamp. Close my eyes. Bite my lip. Fanaticize about what it would be like to caress the sofa’s supple full-grain leather and the pillows’ luscious silken thread, to turn that Tribeca floor lamp on.

Heartrate: 150 bpm