A Wee Boost of Scottish Flare
It is amazing how sex leads to having kids, and having kids doesn’t lead to much sex. Sex drive can be elusive and require a conscious effort to keep it on the radar, especially with kids. Bruce and I often assume vacation will be a great sex opportunity until we find ourselves in a house with thin walls, creaky floors and squeaky twin beds with our extended family. These factors are not obstacles for Bruce. He tolerates my stealth Navy Seal hand signals along with the shushing and pauses. It turns out that Ninja vacation sex is not that randy.
Many women complain that the biggest obstacle to enjoying sex is getting focused enough to start the engine. Aside from legitimate stressors and busyness, many women fail to notice random opportunities to help shift the mindset. Fantasy is not only healthy and normal, but it can veer your mind away from to-do lists and stress opportunities. Action follows thought. For me, catching an interview with Tom Brady jumpstarts a morsel of a sexual thought on which I can capitalize. I always send Brady back to the locker room once I have decided to have sex. As my mother told me, “Once you decide to have sex, you never regret it.”
Bruce has always wished our desires for sex were more equal. I should be flattered that he still wants to engage with my ample supply of repellents and unconcealed aging. I remember how challenging it was to prioritize sex when our kids were little and needy. Husbands who sulked or begged for sex were perplexed by how it didn’t convert. It was even worse when they would help around the house and then ask for praise or notice in hopes of getting some action. Just vacuum and move on… to the dishes maybe.
Many guys wonder what would make women insatiable for sex. Personally, a collision of factors would have to align. When the moon is full, hormones are behaving, all kids are sound asleep, and the dishes and laundry are done, there is a ten-minute window of insatiable – if Bruce finds the window, Shazam. If we waited around for that window to open, we would have sex twice a year. That is why planning sex is not a bad gig. Bruce once asked for clear specifics about what would increase his chances for sex. My clear criteria improved our sex life: Sex needs to start before 11 PM, when he takes a shower, he should use soap everywhere, and brush his teeth with toothpaste. Optimism helps keep Bruce very clean.
There is this book that has jumpstarted the libidos of millions of women. I am not talking about Fifty Shades of Crap, however. For those of you who enjoy non-consensual restraint, nipple clamps, or having your clitoris whipped with a riding crop, you go! Most women don’t have the interest, time or storage space for such events. Personally, I am interested in good orgasms to keep me fired up – the real ones. Female orgasms occur in complicated, kelpy terrain. Women need to be GPS for their partners.
The wonder book I speak of is Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. When my friend first insisted I read it, I was daunted by the idea of reading more than eight hundred pages of historical fiction with a time travel element. Once I got to about page two hundred twenty-five, however, I could not stop reading. This nurse travels back to the 1700s where circumstances force her to marry a Scotsman named Jamie Fraser. Jamie is a strapping, lusty buck who is also loving and attentive. He is a fierce warrior who is tender and expresses his emotions. Jamie and Claire ride around the Highlands on horseback. Occasionally they stop, Jamie drops his kilt and they have a wee romp.
One night Bruce was out and I got so lost in Outlander that lost track of time. Bruce had an outing with his reflective and outdoorsy friends. They canoed up a river and stopped to cook a late dinner over a fire. When someone offered Bruce a beer, he asked for the time. One guy replied, “It’s 10:50, but why would the time matter?” Bruce hunkered in with a beer explained that there would have been a chance for sex if he got home by eleven. Bruce assumed I had fallen asleep with the light on when he drove in the driveway at 12:30 AM. By the time Bruce reached the top of the stairs, I could already smell nasty burnt sausage and his manky body odor. When he stepped into the room, he was visibly dirty with a greasy layer on his face. His hair was askew with a headlamp aslant on his head. Much to his surprise, I rounded on him like a tigress in heat. He dropped his pants to his ankles and dove into bed with the headlamp still on in case I changed my mind. Since Outlander has eight books in the series and has been made into a TV show on STARZ Network, Jamie can start the engine with a bit more frequency.