For my more reserved friends, you may want to skip this one... or weigh in on your thoughts, it's entirely up to you.
Recently, Howard Stern was interviewing Tom Arnold on the cusp of his (what? 4th, 5th, 18th) marriage. He asked what preparations he'd be taking to ensure this marriage would last. As it is, Tom is very good friends with Arnold Swarchenegger, and had asked his advice on the key to making a good marriage work. Arnold's reply was simple...
"Don't forget the sex." (Said forever in my head as the Terminator)
Clearly, for Arnold, this has been sage advice, as he has said
"I'll be back" (sorry, had to go there) to his wife Maria for nearly 25 years. Needless to say, this little nugget of advice has been the ongoing joke between Almost Hubs and I, even considering making it one of our secret vows for our upcoming wedding day.
But it does pose the question of how important sex really is in a marriage. I believe it was Dear Abby that once wrote,
"When the sex is good in a marriage, it's 10% of the relationship. When it is bad, it's 90%" I'm sure there's some that could argue that the latter could be even higher than 90%.
Today, in all my infinite time of monotonous mail delivery, I was thinking about this very subject.
In my first year of marriage, I was barely 21. I had had little experience with men, and what I had had was less than memorable. Although he was not my only, he was my first (there was a 4 year hiatus between dating and marriage, during which I had met and was engaged to another man) and I had convinced myself that our times together were good. But they were never passionate. I never longed for him, never day dreamed of coming home to him, never fantasied about him. There were months when we didn't connect at all, in the bed room or otherwise, and there was always a reason. His school, my work, the weather, his medication. Always an excuse for what I now can see, was a love less, passionless, marriage.
Almost Hubs and I have been together for all intents, over 7 years now. In the beginning, it was fresh and new. It was exciting and passionate. We were still learning each other, and still vehemently in tune to each other's body language that we were nearly irresistible to each other. Of course, I was in my twenties and he was in his 30's. We also most often had no children in the house, as they still had overnight visits with their father. No bills to pay, no parents to check in on, and had not yet shared all the
"lesser attractive" aspects of each other. And, the onset of menopause, or bizarre hormone imbalances, were still not a possibility. Neither one of us realized we had walked too close to love, until we had fallen in, head first and a$$ backwards. We sorted through things, stepped back, developed our friendship, and continued to pursue each other in the passionate way we were accustomed.
Things were good.
Really good. As time rolled on, we got more comfortable, and the everyday
"must have you" gave way to the realities of life. The kids were around everyday, all day now, and while this has greatly solidified our family, it has put a damper on the passion that once exuded from both of us. We find time to connect now in the less brazen, PG-type ways, that we can. Kissing the back of my neck as I'm doing the dishes, hugging in the office, holding hands in the mall, dancing in the kitchen. My children no longer are disgusted by these shows of affection, as they are so common place. It's just the way we show love here. Make no mistake, I still long for him. I passionately await his arrival from work.But with his not living here full time, and general weariness and realities of life, I often find the days slipping away from us.
I find myself having to make a conscious effort, more than ever before to reconnect. When more than a few days have past, I will find myself watching the clock, ensuring that the boys are put to bed promptly. And after
obsessing insuring their being
sound asleep, I bound the stairs, two at a time, leaving elements of clothing in my wake. The last of which is usually thrown at him, in an effort to attract his attention from the big game on TV. My subtle hinting has become blatant, my technique has become a bit more naughty. But the connection is worth it. But, I have to wonder, is it
normal? The passion is there, but the time has to be sought out, planned. All spontaneity is lost.
Am I alone here? Have I lost you all?
My Mum has always let it be known that they are each other's best friends. I know that they have a strong physical relationship,
although every time my Dad tries to say anything about it I get so grossed out, I block my ears and run away screaming. I don't need the details to know that their involvement with each other is a huge part of why they have been married for almost 40 years. I have known many couples who have lost their way, and as a result sought out other relationships, that have either ended or rekindled their marriages. And, I have known others that openly admit that they have settled into the "friend" zone, and they wouldn't have it any other way.
I guess the answer is subjective. It depends on circumstance, relationship, and desires of each person involved. Almost and I have done this once before, and I know for both of us, desire and passion are a huge part of being together. That it's more than just the actual act, but the carving out of time, the synchronizing of minds and bodies that makes us whole as a couple. As the calender pages flip by, and the wedding draws closer, I know that one way or another, the connection we have will endure. We will find a way to
"not forget the sex" because for us, it is an important part of who we are.
Yet, the question still lingers.
Will it ever be like when we first met again, or is that forever left to the vividness of my memories?
