"I know essentially nothing about sex," Walter confessed.
"Oh, well," she said, "it's not very complicated." (2.3.105-106)
One hesitates to ascribe too much explanatory significance to sex, and yet the autobiographer would be derelict in her duties if she didn't devote an uncomfortable paragraph to it. The regrettable truth is that Patty had soon come to find sex sort of boring and pointless – the same old sameness – and to do it mostly for Walter's sake. And, yes, undoubtedly, to not do it very well. There just usually seemed to be something else she'd rather have been doing. (2.3.155)
This was very unusual of her, but thankfully not so unheard-of as to provoke comment and examination; and Walter needed no persuading to oblige her. It wasn't a big deal, just a little late-evening surprise, and yet in autobiographical retrospect it now looks almost like the high point of their marriage. Or maybe, more accurately, the endpoint; the last time she remembers feeling safe and secure in being married [...] their marriage was working. (2.3.177)