Brigit’s Diary: “Baby, You’re a Firework…”

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting thought the wind wanting to start again? Our sex life has been super spotty as of late. Who am I kidding…it’s been super spotty for years. But, I’ve not been physically tracking it for years…only months. And here’s what I’ve learned. In January, we had sex twice. February: 5 times. March: 5 times (every weekend). April: 4 times. May: once. June: once. Stretches of 4 to 5 weeks at a time without sex. And while a relationship is more than just sex (or should be, imo), for him, sex is connection. And honestly, even for me (the one he dubbed “the sex camel”), weeks without sexual intimacy can cause a bit of stir-craziness. Especially when I’m actively trying to restore my libido (and it’s working a bit!). Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in? We’ve been sort of padding around each other, softly. Every once in awhile erupting. Stretched thin in more ways than one. Work stress, life stress, political stress, “us” stress. And at night, curled up on the couch binging “Lost” (how apropos), we agree to not talk about it. Most of the time. Do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet under – scream – but no one seems to hear a thing… We’re silently screaming inside. Both of us. And the cracks are widening, lava threatening to pour out on to the floor. The other night, the volcano erupted. And we fought about everything. Not just sex. No…we threw in parenting issues and homeowner responsibilities and work and all. the. things. Just to be sure we were really good and pissed at each other. By the end, I cried myself to sleep. Do you know that there’s still a chance for you? ‘Cause there’s a spark in you. You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine. Just own the night like the Fourth of July. The next day, we talked. I cried again. We decided a sex therapist was the way to go. It’s a bit dispiriting in some ways, as this will be our 4th counselor. But, hey, we love each other. And there’s more than just a spark between us. It’s not our fault the counselors we have had so far have been so wrong for us. Living out here, a fair bit from the city, we have generalists galore, but no one committed to helping couples see through to their issues with mismatched sex drives, their checkered past with non-monogamy, and their ongoing dilemmas involving dominance and submission. ‘Cause baby you’re a firework. Come on show ’em what you’re worth. Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!” As you shoot across the sky… That lava, too, that spilled out, wasn’t just hurt and frustration. It was also need. Because we both still have that for each other. And when the build up is thick enough, we are drawn together. The past few nights, there has been possibility. But, he’s not been fully ready. And me, not being the pushy type when it comes to sex, I simply geared up to wait. Last night, I guess it became more obvious. And he said, tomorrow. And I said, you said that yesterday. And he said, I’m on the edge of not caring anymore. And I teared up. And he said, I didn’t mean it that way. And I said, well then how did you mean it? And he said, let’s talk about it tomorrow…maybe tonight we can just make out…when was the last time we just made out…like teenagers? And so we did that. We lay down on the bed, fully clothed at midnight, and began to kiss slowly. The soft scratch of his facial hair enveloped my lips, and our tongues, finding the rhythm of the subtle dance that two people learn and hone over years. Hands roamed and held, legs wrapped, and breath quickened. We made fun of youth…noting that this is how it starts. And this is rarely enough. Because need leads to want. And he said, this is what want feels like. This is what I want. Baby you’re a firework… come on let your colors burst… make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!” You’re gonna leave ’em fallin’ down down down… Our “make out only” session escalated quickly to clothes being discarded on the floor. Roving hands began to grab and push and pull. He did all. the. things. And I burst, gushed across the blankets, letting go weeks of pent up…want. You don’t have to feel like a waste of space. You’re original, cannot be replaced. If you only knew what the future holds: after a hurricane comes a rainbow. A rain storm in the desert. Transformative. Maybe a reason why all the doors are closed, so you can open one that leads you to the perfect road. Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow, and when it’s time, you’ll know. He didn’t cum last night. While keeping it hard wasn’t an issue (it rarely is), after a few drinks, an orgasm for him just wasn’t in the cards. But he promised that we’d get to that “tomorrow” while the kid had his headphones on and was fully immersed in his video games. We’ve moved from “possible” to “probable.” You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine… just own the night like the Fourth of July. Happy Independence Day! (Visited 27 times, 1 visits today) Please leave this field emptyLet’s Keep in Touch! I don’t spam! Read this privacy policy for more info. Check your inbox or spam folder to confirm your subscription.