Everyday Lament of a Simple Man

He was in bitter-sweet mood, more bitter than sweet.
You know, he went on, in the month before we married, we had more sex in that time than in a year these days. Sex had been freely given, with what looked like enthusiasm too, practically anytime and anywhere.
Now all it did was cost. Cost him time, money, and doing things. And all that still was not enough. More cost, less sex. He ended up, he said, doing it by hand.
He seemed to be looking for sympathy, empathy, something. His eyes got distant.
Yeah well, he went on, thank God for Molly Palm and her five daughters. And the fact that he never left home without them, being joined at the wrist, so to speak. Ha! Ha! He never had to look for them either, when the time came, see. And cost him nothing. His laugh, when it came, was small.