How often do you have sex?
by Laura of Delicacies
We see that question all the time in magazines, from Time to Esquire to Cosmopolitan. But really, who cares? Is it even relevant?
The so-called experts think so. They tout frequency of sex as a measure of everything from relationship satisfaction (married couples) to level of “activity” (singles) and as a testimony to the resiliency of the elderly. I don’t agree. Coitus in and of itself isn’t the right measure of a relationship, because it doesn’t get at the intimacy level when you’re talking about relationships.
Pre-divorce I went for about eighteen months without sex. My marriage was over; that was clear with or without the indicator of sex. Actually it was over long before I quit pretending that I enjoyed having sex.
As midlifers, even for those of us who might check the box–passionately in love–sex may not be all that frequent. What’s more important for me is the sense of intimacy, and that doesn’t always include full contact sex. If you ask me why I passed up on sex most recently, I have a couple of answers.
1) I was too tired to bother with it. I know from experience that with enough suggestive play and some good kissing I can go from a shoulder shrug to a let’s get it on kind of attitude. But still, some days it just doesn’t seem worth the trouble.
2) I was having hot flashes on and off all day–not a mood enhancer. It’s not just the heat wave but the overall feeling of rising tension, a feeling of combativeness mixed with a desire to pour ice water over my skin. Oh yeah, and scream. Having bodily contact does not sound pleasurable at that moment.
I’ve been through phases in my life where sexual contact had absolutely no appeal to me. Then I’ve been through those times when I wanted to spend the whole day having sex, again and again and again!
And, now? We plan it! Not to say that sex doesn’t happen spontaneously: a kiss suddenly kindles a little fire, and sheets get tossed aside. But, planning is just so… mature. It’s not the “2 PM-pull down bedsheets, 2:01 remove clothing, 2:05 get out K-Y” kind of planning, either.
We talk about setting aside the afternoon or an early evening, assuring that neither of us wanders off literally or figuratively to some task that might divert us or tire on out. We are getting older after all. A large dinner with a few drinks, and we’re likely to fall asleep before we can get aroused. An afternoon of mowing the 10 acres is not conducive to a romp in the sack. We plan. And we indulge in foreplay. Foreplay being a hinted suggestion over lunch or maybe a casual brushing against each other as we walk by. We indulge in little acts of intimacy to express affection, desire and to lead to that gentle smoldering feeling. Something that gets our minds engaged. Anticipation builds, we think and desire grows.
As time gets closer there is a heightened sensation as nature takes over, and we come together. I roll over much later, gasping and think, “Oh my god! Why on earth didn’t we do this a few days ago.” And then we resume our busy lives and sex takes a lower priority. Again.
photo credit: http://www.raunchyrepublic.com.au/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/sex-scheduling.jpg
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