We had sex last night.
After more than 3 months.
And it was better than good. Better than I feared it might be.
Mainly because I was afraid I wouldn’t feel it. That thing that makes us “us.”
And at first I didn’t, which really pulled the panic up from my gut.
We did what we did to get ready for bed…criss-crossing eachother’s paths in the bathroom, removing clothes, brushing teeth and hair.
Often I notice his gaze linger on my naked body in the large bathroom mirror. I usually avoid it, pretend I don’t notice, because lately, it’s hurt…to have him notice…and even worse to acknowledge it and see the hurt in his eyes and feel so far apart even though we are literally inches from one another.
He rolled up behind me on his knee scooter (remember…he broke his foot in August and is still less than perfectly mobile), and I turned to face him. He placed his hands on my hips and kissed me.
A normal gesture, even in tough times. We never stop loving or showing that basic affection. But he held the stance, and didn’t pull away.
I was an instant full-body vibration of fight or flight, but I held still and met his kiss, my mind racing, my muscles rigid.
A few words were said, and his tongue sought mine.
The tough of that internal softness against his was unsettling.
I felt fear in the pit of my stomach. What if my body didn’t respond? What if it had been too long? What if my internal workings were broken? What if my libido didn’t catch the hint?
All I could do was pull away, which would have been a catastrophic move, I believe, or lean into it and let my body speak to his…and let his speak to mine.
Standing in the bathroom wasn’t the most comfortable place to be, him standing on one leg, me leaning in over the handlebars of his scooter, and so we made our way to the bed.
We kissed. His hands and fingers found their familiar homes, all the regular activities. I came. He did not (which is a normal side affect of the testosterone for him.)
What made it better than good is partially the lack of sex we have been having. When you’re hungry, even the most basic foods taste heavenly. But it was more than that.
We’ve had a lot of sex over the years. Some of it awesome, most of it good enough, and some of it…well…everyone has an off day, right?
The things we did are less important than the things we felt. And it’s the connection…the near spiritual nature of the emotional connection that is heightened by the physical touch…that makes it stand out from “maintenance sex.”
Sex, for me, is amazing when it is based in love, when I’m comfortable enough with the other person to let go and give myself up to the experience. That means there needs to be deep trust.
It’s also amazing when the other person has a deep knowledge of my body and its workings.
And when desire is heightened, making us ravenous for each other.
Amazing sex happens at the crossroads of lust, love, and spirituality.
Which is exactly what happened last night. Soft kisses morphed to hungry grabbing, and ended at widened dark pupils, hair-pulling and “good girl.”
It’s been a long time since I heard those words, and they elicited a visceral reaction from both of us.
We are not fixed. Far from it. But we are also not broken. All of the pieces are still there, it’s just a matter of finding a way to put them back together.
And this was certainly a good way to begin. Our bodies have a much better sense of what to do, sometimes, than our minds.