Part of my Six Month Sex Challenge is to make one week about my sexual needs and the alternative week about what my husband would like. So to start, this week is all about me.
Me, me, me, me.
For months I’ve been fantasizing about a hot rock massage. (You know those massages where they put warm stones on your back?) I decided that what I wanted out of ‘sex’ this week was a lovely all-about-me massage. Knowing it could never be an hour-long affair, I had to decide between have a massage to my head, back, or feet.
A short foot massage should be easy enough to make time for I reasoned...but, of course, it wasn’t. You see we had a family member visiting for the entire week. Granted we are good enough pals to say, “We are going off for a few minutes. Potato chips are in the cupboard and sports are on TV.”
The problem was my husband desperately needed that male bonding time. I didn’t have the heart to pull him away from the nightly football and hockey matches. And I was NOT willing to wait until 11:00—even if it was for an all-about-me massage.
Then suddenly it was Friday. As our weekend was packed full of activities, I knew it had to be this night or it was not going to happen.
Friday morning I handed my husband a tube of foot lotion and as flirty as I could muster before my second cup of coffee said, “Can you massage my feet tonight?”
He gave me a pained look and whined, “But we’ve taped the Bills vs. Jets football game!”
I stared at him belligerently. Seeing that I would not relent, he gave me a pained sigh and said, “Sure.”
Not the type of enthusiasm I had expected about initiating some fun. And wouldn’t you know that night the bugger tried to dodge his massaging duty after the supper, chores, and bed routine?
I confronted him at 9:00 p.m. and said, “I thought you were going to give me a foot massage.”
He came back with, “I have pressing things that I need to do--like clean the fish tank.”
Exasperated I retorted, “Isn’t having a couple of times more important than cleaning your fish tank?” (I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)
At that moment, the newborn woke up. Sigh. The three of us trudged to the bedroom. As an act of goodwill, I massaged his feet first. He held the baby and as the foot massage progressed, I could see both of us relaxing.
Then it was my turn. Hooray! Finally, a bit of much needed me nurturing.
As soon as the baby was handed to me, he started to wail (the baby that is but I’m certain my husband would cry given the chance). My husband, who wanted to get the massage over and done with, didn’t wait for the crying to stop. I didn’t even notice the first foot’s massage as I was trying to calm down my child.
Frustrated tears formed on my lower lids and I was just about to call the whole thing off. But then the baby settled down and I was able to settle back and calm my frazzled nerves.
Then it happened. My husband and I started to chat and giggle. We then—gasp!—shared some real couple connection time. It probably only lasted for five minutes. Yet it was enough for me to glean that much-prized intimacy that I crave. My baby smiled at me and for just one moment the world felt more than perfect.
Foot massage is done, my husband abruptly jumped off the bed and bee-lined it out of the bedroom to watch the Bills vs. Jets game. Nowhere near an ideal night and still worth the effort.
Next week is all about my husband. I hope making time for sex is easier and that his needs are so much more straightforward.
Originally posted on TrinaRead.com
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