No sex is a war-time hazard in playing this game.
Mrs: Are you finished with that damn game, already?
Me: Just...five more mins...
Mrs: Uh huh...
Me: No really...I just have to look after my men...
Mrs: Riiiight...
Me: I really do...that last depth charge was a nasty son of a bitch, and poor Gunter in the engine room was already badly injured after that hurricane's strafing run...I just don't know who is going to replace him for the rest of the patrol. Verdammt..why didn't I send Hans on that medic training course back in port...
Mrs: Do you a brig on that thing?
Me: Why, no. Not really...but there is a spare bunk in the forward compartment that I could tie someone too, if needs be...why?
Mrs: You're sleeping in it.
