sex education | The Off Parent The Off Parent

Zen and the Art of Lovemaking – Won’t Save Your Marriage

I was heartbroken to learn that great sex was not the answer to a long-lasting marriage. I have no idea what makes that possible, and now that I’m on the other side of that wall (divorced) I’m wondering if I’ll ever go back to being married. I mean… What’s the point?

I’ve been a sex enthusiast since a very young age. I don’t know where I got the idea, but once I had the idea I worked like a mad man to learn more, and this was long before I ever had the opportunity to touch a girl, much less a woman. You see, when I was 10-years-old I bought Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask, at a convenience store on the way back from a beach trip. My mom and her friend were in the front seat, and the whole way back from Corpus Christi I was hiding my precious and my book. I can only imagine the smile on the clerk’s face when he rang me out, two moms sitting in the idling car. I don’t know where I hid the book when I walked back to the car. I must’ve bought a slurpee. It was not a pre-meditated act. I saw the book and seized the opportunity.

Turned out the sex bible of the 70’s was a gateway drug, and I soon graduated to harder drugs. And I should probably confess, I’m addicted. I love sex. And not in the Sex Addicts Anonymous kind of way, I know how to stop. (grin) I just don’t want to. Ever.

I must’ve been huddled down pretty low and faked being asleep most of the way back as I entered the world of oral sex, masturbation, and the idea that IT IS ALL OKAY. I was a sexually liberated 10-year-old in a matter of hours on that road trip home.

And our initial chemistry and passion was high. Sure mine might have been a bit more obsessive, and bit higher, but she was matching me stroke for stroke in the beginning.

Of course I had to wait a bit before experimenting on live subjects. And so I practiced on myself, and in my mind. Again, I’m not sure what the compulsion was, maybe I should talk to my therapist about it. Sure, I was starved for my dad’s love, but gosh.

And into middle school I was the fountain of knowledge for my uneducated male friends. I made up stories. But mostly shared what I knew thus far, and I shared my Playboy collection. And in about seventh grade girls were no longer untouchable, but it took a while longer before I got to actually touch one. And after that I was hopelessly hooked. And something in my early education led me to the goal of pleasing the woman first. I’d get mine later. (See: She Comes First) I was just that interested. It was like science or mysticism. Women, the great mystery.

At 27, I got married to a fiery Basque woman. Small and hot. Dark skinned, dark curly locks, and a rocket body that initially gave me a lot of new experience. Once married, however, things changed, so dramatically I was shocked. I won’t go too far into it, but she had been sexually abused. As she felt more and more comfortable in the marriage, and she started going to therapy, the demons of that past began to creep into our sex life. Before long, sex became a very difficult balancing act. And it was harder still because she was so beautiful. I had thought I was getting a great package deal when I married her, but the skeletons soon came out and wrecked our sex life and ultimately our marriage. I learned at this time that sex could be a lure that was covering up much deeper issues. I was out-of-town when she filed for divorce and the papers were served to me at work when I returned. Harsh. I count my blessings that we had never contemplated kids.

I walked around wounded and hungry for a several years after that. I had a few girlfriends, but nothing that lasted. I was so needy and empty. I had no idea what I wanted, in life or in a future relationship. The sex drive was still alive and well, but the means were less available, and my wounding prevented me from being a very avid pursuer.

Then an old high school crush walked back into my life and our paths quickly entwined. Again, I was mesmerized by her beauty. Her smile, her fit body, her easy-going chatter. We were dating within a few months and living together within the year. I remember early on, as we were leaving the coffee shop where we re-met, she turned and said to me, with a sly smile, “I just got back on the pill.” Thrillsville.

And our initial chemistry and passion was high. Sure mine might have been a bit more obsessive, and bit higher, but she was matching me stroke for stroke in the beginning. And we started talking about unprotected sex while we were on our honeymoon in France. More thrills. All warm fuzzies, fantastic momentum and affection… AND…

What I know is I was starving to death for affection from a beautiful woman who was lying right beside me. And there was very little I could do about it.

Our son was born. And for a few months we cooled, of course, as our lives were melted and reformed around this new priority. But soon our sexual activity came back online, a bit less, but still very healthy and honest. Of course, we wanted a second child, and within a year she was pregnant again. Good times. Sex with a pregnant woman is highly erotic, even if infrequent. She was more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. I fell in love with her every day, repeatedly. We were happy.

I’ve covered a lot of the disruption in our marriage in other posts, but the part that I didn’t see coming, at this point was how her sexual drive was about to take a nose dive. Sure, postpartum hangovers and all that, but several years after our daughter was born, we were not having sex very often at all. I was not sure what had happened, and I wanted to find our previous connection again. And for a period of about six weeks we had a miracle rekindling. I got a vasectomy. Affirming both our intentions of now enjoying an unfettered sex life. And for the weeks following the surgery, we had a project together. A sex project. I had to have 30 ejaculations before I could be tested for the efficacy of the vasectomy. And like jack rabbits my wife was into it. We did it in the shower. She would do me at the drop of a hat. And I was pretty easy in those days. And we chalked up the wins and headed back to the doctor’s office for my test and BOOM we were cleared for take off. What happened however was more like a grounding.

Over the next few months our rabid sexual pairings became fewer and fewer. The problem in my mind was she didn’t want to have sex any more. The problem in her eyes, as she expressed it at the time was chores, and money, and kids, and house cleaning, and stress, and tiredness. There was nothing really that I could do. I could try and ask in different ways. I could try and pick up the house between the weekly maid visits. I could try and earn more money and put more money in the bank. However, nothing seemed to work.

It’s possible that her sex drive was goal oriented. We used to joke about it. That when she had the chart and the goal she was very hot for sex. But after that, even she admitted, she liked sex, but it wasn’t really all that essential to her happiness or feeling of connectedness.And again, I can’t know what all was going through her head, but what I noticed was she would go weeks without expressing a single romantic desire. And if I didn’t howl or plead for affection, she was okay to just live that way. It was not part of her essential need. And maybe that’s a Love Language thing. And maybe it was the natural level of sexual desire returning to normal after the missions had been accomplished. I don’t know.

What I know is I was starving to death for affection from a beautiful woman who was lying right beside me. And there was very little I could do about it. And it wasn’t about the quality of the sex, as I’ve said before, I was dedicated to getting her off first. Perhaps it was the routine we got into. Or perhaps, as she expressed occasionally, it was just too much effort. She did have a more difficult time reaching climax, but I was always up for the challenge. And maybe when a woman gets tired, something about sex becomes a chore more than a pleasure. It never was for me. Never has been. I’m still fascinated by it. I’m still studying. And, holy cow, now I’m being given a chance to experience new women.

So divorce hasn’t really been the worst thing that ever happened to me. But the end of sexual joy in my marriage was certainly up there with the big disappointments of my first 50 years of life.

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

back to The Hard Stuff

related posts:

references:

Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex: But Were Afraid to Ask – David Reuben MD.
She Comes First: The Thinking Man’s Guide to Pleasuring a Woman – Ian Kerner
Joy of Sex – Alex Comfort (you want the old version, the drawings are stunning)
Hot Sex – Traci Cox
The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)

image: back, lucas cobb, creative commons usage

June 1, 2014 | Categories: dating, desire, divorce, hardstuff, health, kissing, marriage, sex | Tags: art of lovemaking, dating after divorce, end of sex, having kids, having sex with your wife, joy in my marriage, joy of sex, kids and sex, lack of sex, lack of sex in my marriage, levels of sexual desire, oral sex, sex after divorce, sex and divorce, sex education, sexless marriage, sexual desire, the end of sexual joy | 1 Comment »

There Is No Fountain of Youth; Let’s Find A Deeper Level of Connection

I guess it’s traditionally a woman thing. This obsession with youth, taut breasts, eye wrinkles, etc. And maybe culture HAS established this bar of glamour. Magazines, television, movies, celebrity, we are in love with the beautiful. And for many youth has it’s allure. But it’s very thin this skin deep obsession. And in this moment, I am trying to understand even more clearly want my own wants and desires are, and what drives my taste vs my passion.

I was educated on a woman’s body by Penthouse magazine. And before you glaze over and discount this observation, I want you to understand that in my generation, that’s what we had. And yes there was a very clear distinction between Penthouse and Playboy. Playboy was about big tits. Penthouse was about showing the vagina. And occasionally Penthouse taunted and trained us with the obsessive fantasy of lesbians. Hot lesbians. Lipstick lesbians, who while, into each other at the moment, would clearly like us to enter the picture at any moment. That was the bill of goods we were being fed.

And maybe the irony is, you were raised on a different kind of porn, but porn nonetheless. Women’s fashion magazines are part the media training that you received in identifying what was beautiful and what a real man desired.

We’ve both been sold a load of crap. And the lie continues. Even the medical authorities have gotten into the game with longevity medicine. Now, in addition to Botox and lifts you can have your biological chemistry measured and you can subscribe to a supplement regimen that is guaranteed .. Oh wait, no guarantees… Sorry.

There are a few elixirs that I DO know of that work. And the remarkable thing is, they work for both of us, men and women. Here’s what I believe about fitness and beauty.

Yoga is probably to perfect exercise. It incorporates self-reflection, patience, meditation, and relaxation. The term flexibility that applies to yoga is also a topical remedy to everything life throws us. Understand and learn how to be flexible. Move when the pressure is too much. Breath into the issue and see if there is an answer in the pause.

Water and supplements are required. No matter how well you eat, unless you’re paying a chef to keep you healthy, you will probably need a supplement or two. In the functional medicine world, these supplements can be expensive and very pinpointed for your “condition.” A very popular local MD has a two month waiting list to get into her “program.” And the opening volley is two thousand dollars. Before supplements Nice if you can afford it, but… You can afford a very high-quality organic vitamin from Whole Foods that should cover a good portion of your nutrient deficiencies. (Of course I have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m just saying, you probably need supplements of some sort, so get the best vitamin you can afford and take it.) And if you are drinking other things MORE than water, try and continue to shift the balance back towards water. Clean water.

What you eat can have a huge effect on your health, weight, appearance. So pay attention to what works or does not work for your body. I recently started doing a paleo regimen and I dropped 17 lbs without really adding much additional exercise to my planning. I’m back up about 5 lbs from that point, because I added some breads and desserts in as a celebration. The celebration is over. Back to simple meat and veggies.

Exercise is fun if you like to do it. If you don’t, find something you DO like to do. I love tennis. I love walking around the lake where hundreds of others are walking. And I almost always work with great music driving me on. If you don’t exercise your body will have less resilience. And without exercise your diet is going to help but not kick you back into the fitness level YOU desire.

Let’s get this straight. I’m not ever going to have the body I had as a high school swimmer. BUT, a man my age, I’m not really interested in looking for the high school swimmer to date either. The young woman in the picture above is beautiful, and just starting out in life. She’s more a daughter figure than a date. And while the porn and media still show us the 20-somethings as the object of affection, I’ve pretty much moved on.

Youth is amazing to look at. And youth needs our guidance to keep their orientation on career path rather than glamour, cheerleading, or sports. Sure, do those things too. Be popular. But think about what you are going to do for a living.

And as far as our generation goes (I’m at the tail-end of the boomer generation) let’s let go of gravity-free breasts, cheeks caked and injected, and hair so processed it’s not really hair, it’s a wig.

As the ex-y went from a runner physique to a mother physique I was pleased. Very happy with both incarnations of her beautiful body. And when her breast went from beauty to utility and then ended their supply run, I was still just as in love with them, as they had aged gracefully and naturally.

I’m no authority on fashion or cultural stereotypes, but I know that I have my own youthful-addiction when it comes to beautiful bodes in movies, music videos, and on the net. (Not so much into porn these days, as touch is so much more critical path for me.) And I still, personally, go for the bad girl. Even when all the signs are there. And I’m guessing this is partially the culture and media culture as well.

Here’s a final example of my own whacked out beauty measuring stick. In the video below make a note that Courtney Love is 45 years old in the video and has had hundreds of thousands of dollars of plastic surgery done to tuck and sculpt her into this bad girl. And the bass player, who is much more my type, is also a figment of our imagination, rather than a real person. How they smile, tease and entice with their siren’s looks and come hither moves. Oh…

Courtney Love the poster-child of fked up

click for video

But we know for a fact that Courtney Love has some serious mental problems. And yet, she’s desirable. BUT, I will note, not in a relationship kind of way, but in a pretty-to-look-at obsessive way.

The end of the video has a surreal moment with a beach full of women in lifeguard bathing suits carrying baby dolls at their breasts. And Ms. Love walking through them and tears off her dress and jumps in the ocean.

Her final lyrics are, “I can’t be near you, the light just radiates. I can’t be near you, the light just radiates.” And from the wikipedia entry, Love is “a woman who, for the last 15 years, has been as famous for being a rock star as she’s been for being a victim.” Courtney Love

This Barbara Walters interview shows a bit of the train wreck of Courtney Love. But I think this picture of the vixen at Cochella this year, shows a bit more clearly how the facade is not holding up that well. And still, there is a that bad girl appeal somewhere in my gut. YUK. No thank you. Maybe this is reinforcing the “youth” stereotype, but it’s not her youth or lack of youth that is appealing or appalling. It’s her entire show.