On my first ever romantic weekend away with DH we booked into a v posh b and b (an oxymoron you might say but you'd be wrong on this count). Huge bed with puffy duvet, comfy sofa in room, large tv and an ensuite bathroom with a bath big enough for two with taps in the middle.
On the first night I ran a deep bath, emptied in most of the thoughtfully-provided smellies and bellowed called seductively to DH to come join me. Five minutes passed with no appearance. I called again and got a grunt in reply. I waited a further five minutes before stomping wetly into the bedroom to see what was happening.
He was watching the sodding golf. As he did for the entire weekend (while we were in the room at least).
Well, it was The Open. Silly me.