Written by Rashida KhanBey
The Sex Isn’t Good.
My client said.
I feel like I’m starving for something….
I want them to sweep me up in their arms.
Smile that smile when they see me.
Come get it without me asking.
Kiss me like they have an insatiable hunger for something only I can deliver.
But the sex just feels methodic, timid, disconnected, passionless.
Well … when they are pleasuring me.
But when I’m giving them pleasure- I’m all in: detailed attention, affection, multiple orgasms, talking, moaning, begging…. telling them I long for them deeply, She said.
And then it just falls flat when it’s their turn to love on me.
And It hurts. It hurts in an indescribable way.
And I keep thinking to myself I can’t have sex like THIS for the rest of my life.
I want more.
She said she’d run across a quote from Frida Kahlo that says, “take on a lover that looks at you like you’re magic.”
She thought about her love and knew instantly that wasn’t what they shared.
She was pouring her soul into the love making and she was getting less than a Sunday tithing back in return.
She felt guilty for wanting more sex. Sex. Of all things. Sex.
Sex isn’t “important,” she kept repeating to herself.
People stay in sexless marriages for years.
You only leave because they hurt you in an “bad” way otherwise you just suck it up, right?
My family will think I’m crazy. My girlfriends will definitely think I’m silly for leaving such a good lover behind.
I mean because … sex isn’t important, she said again.
In her spirit she knew that wasn’t true. She twisted and turned and tried to bend herself to fit the relationship. Turning a blind eye to her deepest desires to feel ecstatically thrown into life every day, to feel connected, to feel irresistible and desired. Not just in bed but in life.
Until one day Spirit brought to her attention that it wasn’t just the sex that was half assed, it was the connection as a whole.
Her love had only been partially committed, partially truthful, partially invested.
They were there just enough so that there was no risk, no chance of really getting hurt, little attachment.
And then she realized what she had been so willing to ignore all along—just to have a small piece of love.
She knew she wanted a love that would risk it all to have her. To get naked emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually.
She knew that in order to have that kind of lover, she had to be that kind of lover with life. So she risked it all. So, she packed her bags, left and stopped looking back.
This piece was originally published at http://www.rashibey.com and was republished here with permission.