In his autobiography Charles Chaplin writes: “As for sex, most of it went in my work. When it did rear its delightful head, life was so inopportune that it was either a glut on the market or a serious shortage. However, I was a disciplinarian and took my work seriously. Like Balzac, who believed that that a night of sex meant the loss of a good page of his novel, so I believed it meant the loss of a good day’s work at the studio.”
I totally sympathize with Balzac and Chaplin.
That’s why I tell my girlfriend: “If you want foreplay go to the neighbors. When you are done with the foreplay, come to me for your (just) dessert.”
If a night equals a page all I can afford to lose is 15 minutes.