SISTER WISDOM : build a better life

There are two kinds of women in the world: those who can wear high heels and those who can't.
But that has nothing to do with this article. Let's start over.

There are two kinds of women in the world: those whose sex drive is weaker than their husbands' and those whose sex drive is stronger than their husbands'.

There's a possibility of a third, minority group of women whose luck in life is to have a sex drive exactly matched by their husbands', but I've yet to meet one. Or maybe I've met one and I just didn't realize it, because that's not the sort of thing you write on your name tag. "Hello, I'm Louise and I'm one of the few happy women whose sex drive is spot on with her husband!" Yeah. It would make for a large name tag, and they always make your lapel look goofy as it is. If you're wearing something with lapels, that is, which these days is as rare as a steak that's still mooing.

Anyway, back to the two kinds of women.
Right off the bat you know which one you are, don't you? That's okay, though, you don't have to tell me. I've conducted a survey, and according to the non-scientific results of my poll, it seems that each scenario is equally common. Yeah, you read that right, you sex-crazed women.

You're not weird or anything, we're just dealing with the residual effect of a fifties-Americana housewife stereotype. You know, the gal who was always baking a pie or vacuuming or holding her new wonder-cleaning product in well-manicured hands. The one whose smile always had that gleaming tooth. The one who most definitely never initiated sex. That one. I just have one thing to say about her:
Why do you think she was always wearing a skirt?

Ponder that.

There's no real rocket science to this subject matter. It's really just another look into the way you're different than the man you married. Either he wants sex more often than you do, or you want sex more often than he does. And, as with all differences that exist between a woman and her husband, this one is superb for generating miscommunication, hurt feelings, anger, frustration, and large expenditures on new lingerie. Not that the last one's a bad thing, necessarily...

Here's where it gets touchy, though. (Touchy... get it? Ha, ha, ha...wait. Why am I the only one laughing?) People seem to have a hard time talking about sex. (Hard time... get... oh never mind.) Well, people talk about sex all the time, actually. They make jokes about it, have casual conversations about it, make endless innuendos about it... but when it comes to a real, honest talk about it with their mate-for-life? AH! Shame, embarrassment, chagrin, fear, stress. The crassness of our culture gives us an infinite supply of dirty jokes and sexual stereotypes, but it doesn't give us any real ways of talking about sex.

Try having a serious conversation about sex and see how many terms come to mind that are demeaning or humorous or just make you feel like a 5th-grader.

The thing is, sex makes us vulnerable. Our culture treats it lightly (and crassly) as a way of covering up the vulnerability without abstaining from the sex. Well, that's great for them (though I have my doubts about the effectiveness of the method) but for two people who are married, vulnerability isn't something we need to avoid. And if we could come to terms with being vulnerable, we could have the conversations we need to have.

Something like this:

The wife whose husband wants sex more often than she does might say, "Honey, I love you and I want you, but I don't want you all the time. I don't know how to explain that because I'm afraid you'll feel hurt or rejected or unwanted, but that's not it at all. I'm just not built the same as you, and sometimes I can't respond the same way you do. I need you to give me a way to be who I am without feeling guilty, angry, and resentful. I need you to help me find the time and the way to switch from being busy, working, stressed to just being with you. Sometimes it takes me a while to get there. It doesn't mean I don't want or need you, it just means I need your patience and understanding."

The wife whose husband wants sex less often than she does might say, "Honey, I love you and I know you want me, but when I initiate and you're not interested I feel so rejected. I know we're different people, but my self-esteem and identity as a woman is all tied up in how sexy you think I am. When you're not interested in sex and I am, I feel rejected not just as your wife but as a woman. I start questioning everything about myself - my looks, my body, my desirability, your love, my sex appeal. I really need affirmation from you. I need help to understand that you still find me appealing and desirable, but you need time to switch gears, too."

I don't know. What if we could have conversations like that? What if we could broach the subject without being silly or oversensitive? Would that change things? Would it improve our relationships? I think so. I think it would remove much of the stress. And I think if some of the stress were removed from the whole subject, we would have a lot more fun.

Fun is good.

Oh, by the way, did you figure out which kind of woman I am?

--

Images courtesy of mistress_f and x ray delta one.

Sex.

Here's what a popular women's health website says: "Repression is the only sexual sin against oneself. If you're in a relationship enjoying regular sex, or you're single and have casual sex, or if you're celibate but have found creative ways to sublimate; that's all fine. But if a lack of sex represents a deprivation or you've closed off your natural sexual energies, that's not good."

Silly me, all those years of thinking that it was a good idea to wait for my spouse. What naivete! All that repression, and I could have brought a truckload of emotional baggage, memories of other men, a handy "sexual satisfaction comparison chart," and maybe even an STD just for kicks. What was I thinking? Instead I committed the deadly evil sin of repression. I deprived myself. I closed off those natural sexual energies until I got married, and I began that intimate relationship with my husband with no emotional regrets, no experience, no way to compare, no disease, no old memories.

I really got that messed up, didn't I? Our relationship would have been so enriched if I had been able to say, "No, no, no, honey, you've got it all wrong. My last lover did it like this..." That would have brought us closer. We would be so much better off if I had to continually fight the memories of other faces, other moments with other men. I'm sure that would bring more sexual satisfaction for us.

When we justify what we desire without regard of the consequences, we suffer. Choose sin once, or twice, or a few times, and you will find yourself tied up with it. You'll change your mind and decide life seems more peaceful free of it, but you can't undo those knots. You are bound to your past decisions.

That's why God says things like "Adultery is a dead-end road (Prov. 2:18)" and "Illicit sex is a honey-coated dagger (Prov. 5:3)." He created sex; I hardly think He did so just to deprive us pointlessly. Deprivation is necessary first so that you can have sexual satisfaction later. The kind of sexual perversions that we hear of so often today come from sexual saturation. There's no age limit, no partner limit, no method limit. Get bored? Find someone new. Do something different. Eventually you run out of new and different and you've forgotten how to appreciate sex for what it is: physical fulfillment and emotional connection as an expression of love, service, appreciation, and awe for the one you're committed to. Sex is meant to be exclusive.

When was the last time you had sex that felt that way? It isn't possible outside of marriage. You might get some of the factors right, but you can't show love without showing respect, and you can't show respect when you're giving someone a cheap, uncommitted experience instead of a real, exclusive intimacy.

Real deprivation is denying yourself (or someone else) the richest and best that sex can be, and attempting to be satisfied (or to satisfy) with a far inferior version. If that's where you are, or where you have been, don't stay there. If you've been walking the line, keep this in mind: if you camp out on the doorstep of sexual sin, you'll find yourself walking in, staying a while, and then forgetting how to leave when you want to. Walk away.

It's worth it.