My wedding night was ever so romantic. After the event itself and a two-hour postnuptial dance party, my husband and I staggered up the stairs to our apartment. It was 4:00 A.M., our feet hurt, and we had the beginnings of killer hangovers. Fooling around was about the last thing either of us wanted to do. But you always hear that marriage destroys your sex life—and I thought remaining celibate on this most special of nights would be a symbolic nail in the coffin of our mutual lust. I was determined to consummate this marriage—even though we'd been having sex for six years…