Catherine Townsend: Sleeping Around

I knew he was late for work, but when I saw a flash of naked torso as Ross stepped out of the shower, I had to jump on top of him. "I have to leave, honey," he said, laughing. "God, I can't keep up with you."

This week Dr Pam Spurr ignited a huge debate when she said that women should learn to say yes to sex and compromise in the bedroom if they want to keep their men. She has a point, but it's not just women who need to make an effort, because I've experienced the sting of a partner's rejection.

In every single one of my relationships, my sex drive has been greater than that of my boyfriend. A doctor friend jokingly said that I may have too much testosterone, but as long as I'm having fun and haven't sprouted chest hair, I'm not complaining.

But the highly sexed partner has to take some responsibility as well, because sometimes we get lazy. If a guy's seduction technique is limited to pushing his partner's head down toward his nether regions, is it any wonder that sex starts to feel like a chore for his girlfriend? I've also realised that if I want more action, I have to give more no-strings-attached affection.

Like everything else, sex is all about compromise and communication. In the past, if I've been sexually rejected I started to take it personally, and eventually stopped trying to initiate proceedings. I was determined not to make that mistake with my new man, Ross, who has been having a hugely stressful time at work lately. He's just set up his own company, and though he's fantastic in bed, I can tell that the daily grind is wearing him down.

I knew that I was in trouble when Newsnight won out over me giving him a lap dance. Obviously sex isn't everything, but it is what binds two lovers together. If all I want is a cup of tea and some good conversation, I'll call my grandma.

I knew that Ross had a really crucial meeting a few days ago. So that afternoon I sent him a flirtatious text, telling him that I couldn't wait to do dirty things to him, along with a photo of myself in black lace Agent Provocateur knickers and fishnets.

I filled his flat with candles, and when he got home, I told him to relax in the bath while I cooked salmon and vegetables, wearing the underwear and an apron.

He was amazed. "This is the nicest homecoming I've ever had," he told me, and suggested that we watch television. That's when he discovered the porn DVD that was "accidentally" playing in the background. Two female flatmates were enthusiastically frolicking with the gardener – forget all this stuff about women not being visual, I prefer my porn to have very minimal storylines and maximum action!

"Did you put this on?" he asked, as he switched the TV on and the DVD appeared on the screen.

"I forgot that disc was playing," I said innocently. "We can turn it off if you want to." Then, stealing a line I'd heard a million times in university, I added: "We can just lie in bed and hold each other."

Once I took the pressure off and put a bit of effort in, he was insatiable. His job is still long and hard. But now, it's not the only thing in our relationship that is.