Playing Away?

Ted was away last week for an Armed Forces Remembrance Service somewhere, so I didn't get my usual Sunday afternoon beating at the chessboard. When he told me he wouldn't be home at the weekend, I jovially asked "Seeing a fancy woman, you old rouge?" to which he replied, very earnestly, "Well, you know what they say.. When the hens aren't laying at home, you've got to get your eggs from somewhere."
It's been bothering me ever since. Firstly, because the thought of Ted still having an active sex life fills me with disgust, jealousy and hope in equal measures, and that's confusing me. Secondly, I don't like it when people tell me intimate secrets, I find it discomforting and unsettling. If I had wanted to hear confessions, I'd have trained to become a priest. And thirdly, Beryl is lovely and I'd hate to think of Ted being unfaithful at anytime in their long marriage, much less now after all she put up with over the Summer. Maybe I'm thinking about it too much, but at least it shows I care, I suppose, which shows that my horrendous experiences with my mother haven't totally destroyed my capabilities for familial feelings.
Anyway, on a lighter note - what sexual enjoyment does a monk get?
None.
(It sounds better when you say it out loud)

RC 14-11-09