Sex and other things.

I have been having sex with the same person for 11 years. While I realize this is not THAT long when compared with people who have been having sex with the same person for 20, 30, 40 plus years, I have to acknowledge that it is a pretty long time considering infidelity statistics. Not only that, but I was only 20 when I started having sex with this guy, so technically I have spent what some would consider to be my "wildest, most self-explorative, drunken" years in bed with the same man.

Don't get it twisted, I had more experience than I care to divulge here prior to my husband, but still, I was practically a child then and whatever I was doing certainly wasn't any good. All that came before, and initially even with my now husband was a sad attempt at keeping the attention of someone long enough to feel like I mattered. That to say, it didn't even matter if the sex itself was good, just that it was happening and for whatever amount of time it lasted I meant something. I realized this is backwards and awful and terribly sad really but I prefer to be nothing less than totally honest so there you have it.

Mostly our culture at this point seems to be on the fence or generally against the idea of lifetime monogamy. Divorce rates seem to soar higher every year and even scientists are trying to figure out why we sought after monogamy to begin with. People who are getting married are doing so with the known out of divorce dancing in their subconscious, should something not go their way, or someone else tickle their fancy.

That to say, it isn't EASY. There is nothing simple about ignoring everything around me that says NEW is what is interesting and best and most satisfying. I exist in a culture where not only are new things the best things, but what is new is changing CONSTANTLY. You can barely get a new phone without the next newest one coming out. And newer is faster. My attention span is being shortened with every downloaded, time wasting, flying fish, candy crushing app. Nothing stays. Nothing is solid ground. Nothing is dependable or teaching me to be patient and persevere. Everything around me is a screaming toddler whose sucker simply doesn't taste enough like strawberries anymore and therefor demands a new one.

Boredom in anything is a part of everything. Sometimes I look at my husband and shrug my shoulders. I love him, enormously, but he bores me, and he could say the same about me. Sometimes, in the right pair of jeans while he's tinkering in his garage or sitting outside smoking, I feel more attracted to him than I ever did at 20. Sometimes his jokes are really funny and sometimes he fails to impress. Sometimes he does amazingly sweet and thoughtful things and sometimes, (okay, only once), he forgets my birthday. Sometimes sex is AWESOME (bold and italics there for emphasis), and sometimes it's just a means to an end.

What it, sex and all of the above, always is though, is with purpose. It is sharing life and all that comes along with it. It is learning to bend and not break. It is fully enjoying the best times and pushing through the worst ones. It is someone who KNOWS me, sometimes better than I do. Someone who has and does and will love me at my very worst. Someone who KNOWS my body in a way that whatever exciting, new, first kiss guy from wherever hasn't had NEARLY enough time to know and therefor cannot act accordingly.

I get it. I get monogamy no matter how tempted I may feel to indulge a "grass is greener" philosophy. Life is experiences and what you can gain from them and I don't think the best gains come from failed relationship after meaningless sexual experience after failed relationship. You want experience? Hunker down in the same bed, with the same dude year after year. You'll learn all sorts of things you didn't know about him, yourself, and maybe even your vagina.