Hello, lovelies! Given that my very first blog post Distract Me was basically shameless smut, I thought I should maybe share some context for this sexy, messy life of mine.
(And in case you were wondering what might have happened between PM and me after that steamy interruption to my writing, I showed my gratefulness to PM after the offspring were asleep with a quick blowjob during a television break. Because that is indeed one of the keys to our happy sex life — a quid pro quo of sorts. But more on that later.)
PM and I have been married 20 years now and have been together almost 25. We started dating in high school, and because our conservative Christian background dictated no sex before marriage, and because we were very horny, as young adults are prone to be, I married him at the ridiculously young age of 21. We were married 12 years before deciding to have our first child, and during that time I finished my undergrad degree and we both went through graduate school.
I’ve never done well in recollecting the past, but I’d venture to say that during those pre-children years, on average we had intercourse twice a week, sometimes less, sometimes more. We’ve always enjoyed sex with one another, and I can happily say that I generally never had trouble climaxing, by which I mean I was batting about 8 out of 10. In fact, I recall saying quite often after we’d have sex, something akin to, “Damn that was good. We should really do that more often.”
So given how good the sex was and how much it improved my overall mental and physical health, and when it was clear that PM would have loved to have it more frequently, why were we only having sex 1-2 times a week? Typical reasons, I suppose. Time was an issue in those grad school years — for me, long days and nights in the library and working as a research assistant, and for him, working during the day and pursuing his MDiv at night. Frankly, we didn’t see each other nearly as often as we would have liked, and my now mom-self looks back at those pre-children years and wishes we would have screwed a lot more, when life was simpler, all things considered. *sigh* But I digress.
Amazingly enough, we found we were having more sex through the birth of our children, all while my nursing and our co-sleeping with whatever child was youngest at the time, if only for the reason that our lives had become more stable and we had more time together. PM’s career was stable, and I was at home full-time with our children.
And if you asked me if I was happy with our sex life, I’d have said yes. The sex that we were having was great. It just wasn’t something that was on my mind a whole lot in general. Two kiddos, then add a third, and it simply wasn’t often on my radar.
I remember when Two (our middle child) was still an infant and a friend of mine at the time, who also had two small children, told me in passing that she and her husband were having sex every day. I remember thinking, how do you have the time or the energy?! This led to a conversation with PM about how often he would ideally like to have sex. His answer? “Once a day would be good.” At the time I said, OK, that’s not realistic for me, but let’s talk about it. I very much did want him to be as happy and content as I was, and so I put in effort to be available more for sex or to initiate it more often. This led to us getting busy a little more frequently, maybe three times a week. But I would still say sex wasn’t something that was on my mind on a daily basis, and perhaps only just made the top ten (maybe) in my mental list of weekly priorities.
And as a mom, boy do I have lists. There’s the monthly and weekly lists, and the daily, and even hourly, lists. All the balls I keep in the air, the worlds I keep in orbit. And without entering into a discussion of household management and childcare and how men are taking an increasingly greater role at home yet women continue to bear more than their share of these responsibilities (whether or not they are employed outside the home), I will go out on a limb here and say that regardless of how full PM’s plate is, it’s still easier for him to prioritize sex. I suppose it’s just male biology at work, given that studies have suggested that men think about sex on average two times more often than women (although according to the same study, apparently they also think about food and sleep more often than we do too, so go figure.)
But whether a function of the primitive male limbic system or not, PM seems to have sex on the brain much more than I do on average. And to top that off, when we do get down to it, my darling man has the magical ability to “finish” under a wide array of circumstances, including but not limited to frequent interruptions and under duress, and by duress I mean, a child banging on our locked bedroom door. It’s a friggin’ miracle, really, and so goddamn unfair. Because I, on the other hand, find that the demands pulling at me, whether metaphorical or in the form of an actual child ordering to be let into our room, make it harder for me to want and enjoy sex. And with our lives growing busier again as our children become busier, for the first extended period since we’ve been together, climaxing hasn’t been quite as easy for me. In our younger years we could both bang one out in 20 minutes. (Man, do I miss those years!! My younger self didn’t know how good she had it!) Now I find it can be next to impossible to shut off the near constant stream of plans and worries, and if my head’s not in the game, Mama’s for sure not going to score herself a home run.
Fast forward to a year ago as COVID forced us to slow down as a family and started putting PM, who was working remotely from home, and me in close proximity more than we’d ever been. These circumstances led us once again to a discussion of sexual expectations. Okay, it was probably more of an argument that started with me demanding to know why he wasn’t trying to get in my pants more often, which itself probably originated in my insecurity over whether he still found my 40-year-old mom-body attractive.
But in any case, he responded to my cray by quoting that famous saying that most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Ignoring the fact that in applying this to sex, he took Henry David Thoreau’s words wildly out of context, I did understand what he was trying to express. And I remember the shock and dismay of thinking that my partner had felt this way for 20 years, and yet at the same time recognizing a corresponding sense of angst/frustration/unmet needs within myself. Things had changed for me — it had gotten harder for me to simply let go and be in the moment, and my needs were no longer being met like they once were (even a very basic need of feeling desired by my spouse).
So if PM was leading a life of quiet sexual desperation, I wanted to know why in the world wasn’t he pursuing me more then. He respected my boundaries, he told me — he didn’t want to pressure me if I wasn’t in the mood. Which I appreciate. I really do. Unfortunately, it turns out he was misreading my boundaries, although I will concede that I was possibly giving him a mixed message. *cringes*
But the followup to this open conversation was that I was still left with two hurdles in my way to a happier sex life — sex wasn’t something that tended to be on my radar organically, and when we did have sex, focusing so I could climax had indeed become harder for me. But we both did truly want things to change and for the both of us to have our needs met. While I wasn’t sure how to fix the latter of my two problems, I decided to turn my attention to an activity that in the past always gave my libido a jumpstart (for more on this, stay tuned), and what more, together PM and I have found new and fresh ways to turn up the heat.
The past year has opened a whole new chapter in our sex lives, and I’d go so far as to say, we’re writing a whole new book for ourselves. I’ve now got sex on the brain like I’m a friggin’ teenager again, and PM and I are both getting off every day. (!!!) I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how smokin’ hot things have gotten between us, and I’m hoping this blog will help me do just that.
I know this post was a bit long, but don’t worry, we’ll return to some smutty deets very soon.
Until next time, stay kinky 😉
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