OK, so, basically it goes a bit like this (the OM is in the emergency services on bonkers shift patterns, which only adds spice and interest to the proceedings, obvs):
Me: Hey sweetie - what are your shifts like next week?
Him: Off Friday and Saturday. Hoopla!
Me: Hoopla indeed! Oooo by curious coincidence I reckon I'll be wet as a haddock's swimming costume by then - any chance of a shag?
Him: Hmph, interesting. Yup, count me in!
Then on the day there may be the reminder, cheerily delivered, first thing in the morning: Oh hey aren't we supposed to be getting it orn today, Mr HB? Jolly times! Boom chicka-wow-wow etc. etc.
If push comes to shove I resort to Things Likely To Make Him Happy, ie food, beer, and laughing at things together on the sofa.
Not sure if that helps other than to say I try really hard not to sort of look at the calender and go, by Jove, the 12th already, drop your kecks, sperm boy! Because the OM is a very sensitive and loving sort and any sniff of that and his auld fella would disappear permanently inside
. A mixture of a) fair warning so neither of us make plans to be out till midnight that day, b) joking about it, and c) romance in the sense of actually spending time together and having fun and therefore feeling like a shag, seems to work.
It HAS taken since January to get to this stage, mind!