To provide some needed levity and lightness following the last entry, Mark and I found ourselves in the great conundrum last night of not having a simple name for the sort of sex we wound up having at the end of an extended at-home date last night.
You’ve got your makeup sex and your breakup sex, but what’s it called when you have the-reasons-we-both-were-reluctant-to-have-sex-even-though-we-both-wanted-to-because-we-were-worried-about-resolving-issues-the-wrong-way-no-longer-matter-because-we-both-resolved-them-and-suprisingly-bridged-gaps-we-didn’t-even-know-we-had-and-sweet-jesus-do-I-freaking-love-you-baby sex?
Because that’s kinda unwieldly, I think.
It really was an entirely unplanned, unexpected and remarkable date here last night. Initially, I was just happy to be able to have Mark come home to someone other than a complete invalid and not have to play nursemaid to me for another night. Not that he complained at all: if there were an award for being the best Tender of the Incoherent Sickie, he’d win, hands down. While I was particularly thankful for the care and patience, and I have over time discovered he may be the one person, ever, who I can feel okay about allowing to care for me when ill (my usual tactic is to tell whomever to leave the soup at the damn door and get the freaking hell away from me: yeah, I’m a wonderful patient), I still want that care to be limited, for everyone’s sake.
As it turned out, we had this date that was kind of like the best dates you had in college or your first apartment, where you sit on the floor with takeaway for dinner and a bottle of hooch, shared favorite music playing (Over the Rhine albums, in this case), and you just share and share and share as the night turns into morning, talking without there ever being any pauses or silences, learning new things about the other person throughout, waxing existential at times — Isn’t beauty beautiful in the first place because it is relative, momentary, and un-ownable? Or, why is it that you had these similar experiences to me, and yet, we processed and internalized them completely differently? — to the silly, but seemingly important at the time — Where the heck has that highfalutin, flimflam, lollygaggin’, fuddy-duddy, ol’timey slang of yore gone, and why can’t we have it back? — becoming a bit more vulnerable than before just because it feels so right at others. And this when it all started with talking about some tricky, uncomfortable stuff, with me already feeling a bit emotionally drained from the day: quite unexpected and heartily welcomed, to say the least, especially in a year when both of our creative work lives are full-throttle, and time together is at a real premium.
Times like these, I’m reminded of the profound closeness that I experience between us, how exceptional it is in my life experience, and how very dearly I treasure it.
Plus, the whatever-the-heck-you-call-it kind of sex, which resulted in one of those brain ’splody orgasms where you can’t remember what you even call yourself, let alone anything else, was a particularly fine finish to the evening, as was us waking up today crushing particularly hard on the other a fine start to a new day.
April 5th, 2007 at 4:30 pm
Breakthrough sex!
April 6th, 2007 at 5:40 am
“glad to be with you” sex;-)
(ok, “breakthrough sex” is better;-)