My Sunday morning running partner Bob and I rarely talk about sex, but last weekend, perhaps because we saw some sparrows going at it on the grass next to our path, he mentioned that the first time for him was in a broom closet. I was curious to learn more about the circumstances and such of that intercourse, but I’m shy of such things, so I held my tongue, so to speak.

I’ve never had sex with anyone but Jill, although we did the deed quite a few times before we were married. And in the dozen years since then we’ve done it not only in bed but on the kitchen and dining room tables, the kitchen counter, the living room coffee table, any number of chairs, the stairs up and down, the living room rug beneath the Christmas tree, the kitchen floor, against the bedroom door, and in the bathroom shower, as well as outdoors in cars, at the beach at night, and in the woods during the day. But never in a closet.