Saturday, September 26, 2009
Sex Is Back On The Menu
Diets have never worked for me. The more I try to deny myself the pleasure of chocolate, the more fixated I become on having it. Obsess about it. I have such an addictive personality that the rule of little and often really works much better for me. And it's why I don't tend to restrict the consumption of sweets, chocolate or ice cream for the boys. When they were younger, sugar was never on the menu unless in the form of fruit. Now I am happy for them to have treats every day - as long as they have eaten three healthy meals and predominantly healthy snacks then they can have a little ice cream for desert every day if they want it. And it seems to be working for them at least. Some days they want it. Some days they prefer strawberries. They seem to be developing a healthy attitude to food and an understanding of the 'everything in moderation' principle.
So the fact that I have been on a diet - more like a famine really - from sex and now the opportunity to...well, 'eat some chocolate' again on a regular basis has suddenly presented itself, well, of course it is all I can think about.
My relationship with sex is complicated. My mum was very old school. No sex before marriage. If you sleep around you are a hussy and a tramp and no man will ever respect you. She married her second husband when I was 14 and he was an archetypal sex predator. Without going into details, this was not an experience in my formative years that was going to lead to a healthier attitude on adult sexual relationships.
Fast forward twenty years and introduce two high risk pregnancies. Not only was any form of penetration advised against, I was also advised not to have orgasms. For months. And of course, once I was denied something it became something that was much more top of mind. This situation wasn't assisted at all by the pregnancy hormones and increased blood flow raging through my body, which only served to heighten desire, not limit it. It certainly drove a wedge between ex and I. Any form of intimacy was deemed too dangerous to even contemplate. Part of me felt for him. Knew that if I was a better wife that the odd hand job or blow job wouldn't go amiss. But another part of me felt so resentful. Here I was stuck on bed rest, day after day. Consumed with anxiety. Willing each and every day to be over. Maybe he wasn't getting any sex - but he could leave the house whenever he wanted, go out to dinner, go for a run, have a wank. Whenever he wanted. I knew it wasn't his fault but still, I was angry.
My body rebelled against the no orgasm rule and I began to have erotic dreams ending in furtive orgasms on a regular basis. I would wake up in a sweat. Overwhelmed with fear. My body still pulsing. My uterus still contracting. It was so frustrating. I was trying so hard to protect my baby and my body seemed determined to increase the odds of potentially stimulating premature labour against my wishes. Not only that, but if I was going to have an orgasm it seemed a little unfair that I was never awake to fully appreciate it. It was a torturous few months.
Of course, once I had the baby, sex was the last thing on my mind. Every touch or act of simple affection felt like an invasion of my personal space. Just. Leave. Me. Alone. I couldn't bear anyone to touch me. Which confused me, because I have always been a naturally tactile and demonstrative person. I felt changed beyond recognition by becoming a mother. I didn't recognise who I was anymore. And the resentment and anger I had harboured during pregnancy became guilt. God, I was a crap wife and a crap mum. Nothing seemed to be coming easy to me - none of it felt natural or instinctual and I felt totally lost and alone and without any sexual identity whatsoever.
So sex was really complicated for the three years in which we conceived and I delivered Captain Underpants and Johnny Drama. And just as I was starting to feel human again. Starting to feel that there was light at the end of the tunnel and that I, at least, was on my way back to being normal again ex dropped the bombshell. He didn't love me anymore. And from that moment on he put up a wall between us that not even the sexiest of underwear or the most sexual of proposals could successfully scale.
So it has been a while. A long while. And I have missed it.
And now all of a sudden there is a man on the scene who is incredibly sexy. And I am consumed with desire 24/7, in a way that doesn't feel appropriate for a mother of two young children. He is being very attentive - taking me to lunch, out to dinner, to the movies, to improv comedy. We go to the same dance class together (where we originally met). I have even given him a free workout on the powerplate, at his request. And I am happy to go along with all of it. But really all I want him to do is to take me to bed.
We are spending the day together today. And he has offered to cook me breakfast tomorrow morning: eggs benedict, bloody marys and coffee. I can feel myself working up an appetite just thinking about it...roll on 1 o'clock. See you all on Monday.