Your side of the bed or mine
First of all, I feel that people should be shot in the head if they call sex, “making love”. I think our new wonderful president should enact a law or even an amendment calling for immediate castration if someone refers to the act of boning as other than that. Instead of making love, we will use terms like “sex”, “fuck”, “doing it”, “getting some”, “buttering the pancakes”. I fell that this sweeping legislation will almost immediately ebb the raging divorce rate in this country.
After 20 years of marriage, I can safely say Paul and I are very intimate. Most people will confuse intimacy and sex which is why we have such a high divorce rate and some people date like serial killers on a spree. Intimacy is the sharing of vulnerability. It is creating a level of honesty that only you two share. Now I know that many of you are saying, “Lee, WTF! Vulnerability, honesty, serial killers? This shit isn’t funny and it makes me feel weird in my stomach!” Relax people! Paul and I are committed to sharing our pearls of wisdom of how this relationship has worked and it will only pinch a little bit.
Why you ask? Because we’re confusing love with sex! We are confusing intimacy and bonding with a few minutes of grunting with several Oh my Gods at the end! For those of you not convinced, I want you to close your eyes and think of the last time you had your bell wrung and answer this, did you create a deep intimacy or did you just bump uglies? I would rather hide the salami than make love to him. It’s sexier and, truth be told, after 20 years, a little dirty is very good.
I make love to my husband when we talk to each other. I make love to him every single day, not the occasional Saturday if there isn’t anything on T.V.. We share our feelings. We’re honest with each other. We let our partners into that part of ourselves that we deem too scary to share with the world. This is how we create intimacy. This is how we make love. It sounds grosser than it really is. We tend to laugh a whole lot when we are being intimate. There are the occasional tears but mostly it’s a reaffirming that this is the only person I ever want to be with.
Let’s face it there have been times when we couldn’t have sex because of illness, pregnancy or other natural disaster. And, we know there may come a day when one of us just won’t be able to do it. So then what? No more intimacy? Is that it? We have a back up plan. How about you?
Paul’s comments: Do you feel dirty? Kind of voyeuristic? You should because you are watching us in an intimate moment. This whole blog site is a function of our intimacy: the banter of our inner thoughts, the running hand-in-hand through the cyber-fields of our musings. Keep reading. Maybe we’ll get a webcam.
Lee responds: Hand in hand? Baby, that ain’t my hand.