Thursday, July 21, 2011


Night before last and at dinner with friends, the waitress brought dessert lollipops with the check. I surprised myself by assailing TMI with a meaningful glance over the table as I slipped one into my purse. We made a hasty exit and kissed Hollywood movie style up the stairs, fell through the door, and made sugary love four HOURS, breaking all sorts of new and exciting sexual boundaries with a surprising level of comfort and confidence... and a lollipop.

The same night after trying hopelessly to go to sleep in-between four sessions of passionate and breathless love making, I said, exhausted, "we're insane." But, some time later and after some further reflection, I changed it to "..or maybe just sensualists." We do, after all, close our eyes when eating French bread, bury our noses into books and relish the smell of old paper, and shudder with pleasure when we nip an earlobe, intertwine our fingers, or kiss one another's necks.

In the early morning, TMI commented that maybe together we were experiencing things that some couples only think about while they meander through their every-day-ordinary relationships with every-day-ordinary sex. And, as we were young, it was something special.

And now the good news: There's definitely a chemical compatibility between us that I have never experienced before. The result is that I feel like I'm finally starting to meet, get to know, and learn to trust my sexual self; and it's exhilarating, liberating, and over due.

And finally, let's not forget the small but poignant pleasures that come at 4 am, when, nearly asleep and cuddled up in the dark, you hear the breath of someone warm sleeping next to you. France is rainy and cold outside, but I'm warm and safe with one of the French. It feels healthy, like eating raw almonds and drinking kombucha. And I guess, though just as skittish about relationships, fidelity, and the L-word as ever, good.


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