I, Christina, once saw foreplay as enough. Enough for the guy I wouldn’t sleep with. It wasn’t intimacy for past guys but more a means to an end they unknowingly couldn’t get. I suppose that was intimate to me because I held the control, the secret, the knowledge that this was all they would get.
Now I see foreplay as superficial fluff. My adorable husband gets to move past “Go” and collect his $200, why bother with superficialities when the prize is actually attainable?
Nathaniel asked in last week’s post, “Does she no longer seek superficial intimacy because I give her all the necessary attention she required and desired for so many years?” I guess my answer is, perhaps. This goes along with me thinking we are both going to score, so why does all the extra stuff matter? And it may not matter much to me, but it does matter to him. And with that I actually make an effort to push forth and work on accepting and finding enjoyment in foreplay. Solely for him? No, but for us and this relationship.
Last week Nathaniel posed another good question. “Am I meeting her needs for quickies often enough for her to feel fulfilled”? He says, “No” but questions his point of view. From his vantage point, sure I agree. But from my vantage point I say, “Yes, he does”. Being a quickie-get-in-and-get-done-girl I can fully see how he thinks I could need more. But what goes on in my imagination is the opposite.
I do want more long sessions; life, emotions, and anxiety just get in the way sometimes. I am often self-critical of my body. Am I too fat? Am I sweaty? Do I smell okay? Am I disheveled looking from a busy day at home with two boys? I let anxiety wash over me. Will I like what he does? What if I don’t like it will I be able to say stop and not hurt his feelings? I know he wants more than I am willing to give at times, does he resent me, hold a grudge, feel I am not good enough? The time of the month (or TOM my friend calls it with affection, to my surprise) rolls around and I become an overly emotional, self-diagnosed PMDD sufferer making all the above statements whoosh my emotional state in a tizzy. Or good old fashioned kids, pets, bills, staying out too late, an argument, etc. become an insurmountable wall I can’t climb over. The weight of the wall bearing down on my desire to have a super-fun marathon, so I settle, subconsciously, for a quickie.
As I am writing this I see with clarity. Quickies are just my attempt to stick a Band-Aid on deeper physical intimacy with my husband. When we both want more, he tends to be the more courageous of the two us, while I just want to cover it with gauze and kiss it away.