On (Lacking) Happy Sex

Maybe it’s a little silly the way it hit me this afternoon on the way to work. I’ve said before that I’m severely lacking lately in the sex department and that one of my favorite things to do is have “happy sex”. (ok, maybe I haven’t said it outright before in this blog but that is the case personally.” Then the words flashed in my mind, “You can’t have happy sex if you’re not happy with yourself, your partner, or the sex.”

Pretty obvious, isn’t it?

I can have quite satisfying orgasms all on my own if I have enough time to relax and unwind. I had two this morning after about 45 minutes of play. Even now I’m feeling a bit horny but I feel a cringe at the thought of doing so with my boyfriend. Gee, I wonder why.

We had a bit of an argument last night after I admitted that while I still have some desire for him, I feel guarded around him as well (considering some of his reactions to what I want in the moment and some distance considering some of his behavior with others.) It’s a downward spiral, really. I try to protect my feelings with intimacy because he reacts badly to the things that really turn me on (or is for the most part disappointing with his performance.) He pulls away because I’m so “distant” while protecting myself and turns his attention elsewhere. I close up more because he’s looking elsewhere. It’s a bit unnatural to expect someone to open up completely when the trust is damaged and the feeling of safety is gone.

The respect is possibly melting away as well. I have a lean towards the new age and metaphysical. If I share some ideas with him or readings he complains instead of seeing what it is he can draw from it. He complains that doing more than what feels like a cursory touch to see if the pool is warm is “too much work.” Some of his talk at times drips with the tone of anything more than his pleasure being too much work. His actions in the bedroom do the same. He doesn’t listen or act on the answer when he asks “What can I do?” He takes offense to me taking care of things myself with toys or the idea of bringing them into the bedroom. It doesn’t have to be kinky but it would help if it was enjoyable and satisfying. It would help if it didn’t feel like acting or a chore.

It would help if it didn’t matter when I said I didn’t feel like it… if it wasn’t taken as an attack on his masculinity or his sexual prowess. The pouting kills me. It’s poisonous.

I found an article not long ago and the words ring so true in my ears it almost hurts.

The LEAST interesting thing in the world to [some people] is a [significant other] who doesn't understand how to be a lover. A [person] mostly says "No" to a [S/O] who isn't a lover. Conversely, a [person] says "Yes"...A LOT...to a [S/O] who IS a lover. In fact, a [partner] will frequently ask [zher mate] for sex IF [they’re] a lover.
- Calle Zorro

(Yes, I make things awkward with blockquotes and trying to make things gender neutral.) Then I think he’s made himself less and less of a lover to me through his actions. He’s still a friend. He’s still someone I care about in my mixture of love/hatebutreallylove. But, is he still my lover?

It isn’t that I’ve grown bored with what people call “vanilla sex”. I’ve just grown tired of HIS particular form of unsatisfying “vanilla”. Done right, bare bones no frills sex is great. I’m sure nobody would argue with that.