You can barely make out the flicker of candlelight from the shadows around the corner and you wondering if you should go and investigate (a seance?) when you hear the soft strains of melodic sex oozing from the record player. Sade. Your spoon stops in mid air. Oh no.
My husband and I are a demonstrative bunch. We kiss and hug every morning when he comes downstairs to go to work. (I am always the first up.) And we do the same every time one of us walks back in the house from being gone.
The year of dates was a practice in discipline. That might sound unromantic, but I'm learning that when you have small children constantly vying for your attention, sometimes you have to practice discipline to create the space for romance.
Why is it that people are suddenly more interesting when someone else can claim ownership to them? There's a certain fascination with meeting someone and judging their worth based on guessing and then learning their relationship status.
The plain truth that they're missing is that physical appearance isn't very important. To some extent, it reflects a life lived, especially at the extreme ends of the "looks" continuum.
There's a general assumption that secrets are bad. But there are all sorts of reasons why, sometimes, coming clean may do more harm than good.
When you've found something that's right for you, you want to be better without force. You get this instant internal drive and motivation to become a better person, to do better work, and to achieve greater things. You feel inspired.
Loving someone is a spiritual practice -- and now it seems the science just proves my point. In practice I've made it simple: I approach my beloved as if they are an altar.
They are the hurtful whispers in my head when I'm standing in front of the mirror naked. The thoughts and insecurities when I'm in bed with my husband. These are some of my most painful and embarrassing memories.
In letting these key components take a backseat to one single, all-encompassing and lofty word, we're sabotaging the very result we're looking to achieve -- better sex.
Growing up, we weren't taught who men really are and what makes them tick. I know I wasn't and, in the past, I made huge mistakes that ended up emasculating men. It's what led me to helping women really understand who men are ... especially men over 50.
Since Christmas is approaching, I'm tempted to say that these books might make good stocking stuffers. But the male ego is so fragile that some delicacy is required on the part of the giver, who must somehow insinuate that she's just trying to improve an already awesome performance.
I started masturbating when I was five. Before I fell asleep, I would lie in bed on my stomach, my yellow cloth doll between my legs. I'd grind on the head of the doll, fantasizing about a giant ice cream cone (really), until a mysterious, magical feeling radiated up and out from my core.
At the tender age of 19 my hormones were raging -- but they had been since I was 13. Through a combination of chance, luck or serendipity I suddenly found myself faced with the opportunity of dating a woman I found incredibly physically appealing. Her personality -- so-so! We dated for about two months. The word ambivalent doesn't begin to describe the experience.
Time has taught us that it is harder for people to change as we get older and more set in our ways. We know we can't change our spouse, and we're okay with that or else we wouldn't have married them.
When a man is rejected, it's the woman's fault and when a woman is rejected... well, that's her fault, too.