The Great Sexual Awakening of 2007

Written March 28, 2009

My first awakening began a year and a half ago sometime in august. One night Liz comes to me with a not very subtle request for sex. I rebuffed with one of the usual excuses, I don't remember exactly but it was probably the old standby "too tired". Next night, same request, similar response on my part. Two requests in two days got my attention though. For years we had lived a virtually sexless existence. We were like two very comfortable room mates who loved one another and shared common tax liabilities and children. A single sexual request would happen from time to time but like old friends meeting once again in a grocery store we could never actually arrange a get together. But a second request so shortly after the first was something out of the ordinary. I realized that the third request if it should happen might very easily be the last.

The third came and I said yes and it was - ok. The sex that is. We we're out of practice and Liz didn't climax, but it was close and real and somewhat sticky afterwords. Only a few days transpired before the next encounter and it was also fun but not ultimately satisfying for Liz. She would try so hard to climax. Which is not the way to come. But it was still a wonderful and unexpected change in the relationship. And we agreed we could keep trying until we were successful (maybe that was her training as a teacher...try, try, until you succeed).

We quickly became like rabbits. Or teenagers. It was both beautiful and humbling. Humbling because we realized what fools we had been to ignore the physical side of our existance. Ours had been an intellectual existance. We each had our books and lofty ideals and I had my job. My career actually. For years I had done the workaholic routine. Sixty, seventy hour weeks, in some mad quest for fame and glory. A very internal existance. For me it was especially humbling. During the years of our sexual dark ages, I had partially blamed liz's extra weight for marital abstinance. Sex equated to masturbation and masturbation meant porn for me. Visual and airbrushed and pixelated. Masturbation, for all its virtues is not sex. Orgasm does not sex make. Suddenly the veil was lifted from my eyes and I saw an exciting (and excitable) sexual creature before me. I belatedly learned that as far as sex is concerned, vision is the much lessor sense. Sex is touch and taste and smell. I was such a fool. Probably still am, but not to the same extent.

The second honeymoon lasted about a month. During that time I was happy and had a bounce in my step for the first time in years. And then decade old demons began to raise their heads. There was the underlying feeling that this was too good to be true. It couldn't last. The sexual dark ages of our marriage had a significant effect on me. I didn't feel attractive. When I masturbated I was never me. Instead I was someone else. Taller. More handsome. Better endowed. So in the back of my mind I had couldn't believe that Liz was really this excited by me. For a while these purple feelings were in the background. Then came that evening while using the computer I happened upon Liz's purchase of a vibrater, 'The Purple Rabbit'. I was so hurt and enraged and jealous. Here we were, having good sex for the first time in years and I still wasn't enough for her. She had begun climaxing too. Now I realize that our successful sex, her orgasms were probably due in part to the daily application ( around 2 pm before the kids come home from school) of the purple rabbit. At the time though I was clueless and hurt. The emotions subsided after a while but the feeling of impending doom remained. I entertained many dark fantasies during that time. I was so afraid of losing her.

At that time liz worked tuesday and friday nights and sunday for Bank of America. One Thursday evening she comes to me and tells me that work called and needed her to come in. Ok I said. She seemed a little strange, strained, while explaining this to me but I wasn't really alarmed and I went to sleep. I woke up when she came home. Instead of going straight to bed though she went to the bathroom and began washing her face. Now I was a little suspicious. So I got up and went into the bathroom where I smelled the rather distinctive odor of margaritta. I confronted her. She said she had a few drinks with her friend Bradly (sweet boy, family). But Brad doesn't normally work Thursday nights I pointed out. With rising panic I asked her if she even went to work.

Now at this point I am dealing with the fact that my wife lied and went out drinking (she was not a drinker really). This is shocking but not outside the realm of possibilities. Don't get me wrong, my heart was racing and I was afraid of what I was going to here next (an affair maybe?). So I was internally preparing myself for the worst. What came out over the next thirty minutes was completely out of left field. Yes, she had gone out drinking. Not with Brad like she first said. She went to lesbian bar to watch a drag king show (tootsie's, but this is the first I had heard of tootsie's. Most of my alternative friends were gay not lesbian).

At this point she has my full attention and the evening is getting weirder by the moment. Actually, it wasn't evening, it was 3 oclock in the morning. Thinking back on it it was surreal. At this point I understood how Alice fealt going down the rabbit hole (or through the looking glass). The truth was revealed to me in layers like one of those russian doll toys where inside one is another smaller one and another. She went to work. No, she went to work but had drinks with Brad afterwords. No, she didn't go work at all. No, Brad wasn't really there. And it was a lesbian bar. She only went to see the show. Well, actually she's bi-sexual.

By this point no more than forty-five minutes has passed. We've fought and yelled and cried as Liz slowly revealed the truth (in response to my frantic prodding). Now we're exhausted and quiet and sitting on the couch. But not together. There is this palpable negative space between us. I am in the middle, sitting Indian style, facing slightly towards her. And she is sitting on the armrest, with her back against the wall, in the corner, cornered. The fight is over. Now comes the sharing. But not two people sharing some mutual love for woody allen flicks. This is the discovery of an entirely different person living under your roof.

She has always been bi. She had a reputation at college where we met. She had lived with a man and a woman. She thought I knew.

No, I didn't. We hung out in the same crowd, but I was kind of on the outside (where I was more comfortable).

She doesn't think monogamy makes a whole lot of sense.

Do you want to have an open marriage I ask. No, she answers. As we talked (and laughed and cried a little) I would repeat the question. The second time the answer was maybe. The third time it was yes.

We actually talked about it off and on for the next couple days and the course of the conversation has blurred in my memory. I remember that we ended the discussion that night by making love. Love on the edge of things, desperately holding onto one another. Desperate, because one way or another our marriage as we had known it was over.

I eventually realized and acknowledged that she really didn't do anything wrong. Dishonesty is a misdemeanor if no one will accept the truth. At the time though the loss of trust was devastating. Remember, I was already sure, in the back of my mind, that this couldn't last. I was like the clinically paranoid individual who finds out that a card carrying member of the CIA is his roommate. All my fears were virtually confirmed. And now, not only did I have to worry about losing my wife to another man, but a woman as well. And how can I compete with a woman. I am not equipped for that. My wife has a desire for breasts - how can I satisfy that. (My solution at the time was to get my nipples pierced. Ultimately it wouldn't slake her thirst for titties, but she did like it).

I was desperate to please her sexually. I dieted. I strived for well defined abs, six pack as they say. Shaved my chest. (Actually, the very first time Liz shaved me - very hot). My efforts did not go unrewarded. I developed a physical power over Liz. Although my motivation would ultimately prove to be silly and unfounded, I did discover my wife's shallower, superficial side and my own vanity. The same vanity I have nurtured on a diet of exercise and complements ever since. (Peacock and 'beautiful plumage' entered our personal lexicon at this time). My Sexy Fanfic Draco photoshoot was my gift to her that summer.

As to the full breadth of my wife's sexuality, I insisted that she not practice her lesbian tendencies. Forced to decide between me and her she chose me. That was an ugly fight. And I would eventually change my mind (as you know).

Over the coming months I got better. More secure. Or maybe I was just distracted.