Hello you!
It’s not so much him I remember but the way he made me feel. Is that selfish? Narcissistic? Honestly, I don’t care. The feeling of aliveness took over any rationality or self-awareness. It was intoxicating and the taste was exquisite.
Esther Perel says that for a woman to want to have sex she has to want to have sex with herself. The job of the man then (or whichever partner of choice) is to make us feel desired. He’d done that. Mission accomplished. I felt irresistible. Me. Thirty something, soon to be divorced me who couldn’t understand why this beautiful man was giving me the time of day.
To feel sexually numb is a terrible thing, but I don’t think I’m alone in it. They say it’s common after many years with the same person. They aren’t the glistening shiny object to be uncovered anymore. There’s no mystery, no chase or spontaneity. They’re the one who sees us when we’re sick and have snot running down our face, the one who farts in bed next to us without feeling the need to apologise. As the mystery fades and the seeds of the mundane begin to sprout, our alluring masks slip and desire is often lost.
Fifteen years after my last first time with someone new, here I was once again about to discover and be discovered. I’d known it was going to happen. As the gatekeepers of sex I think we always know if it’s on the cards or not and if we’re ever unsure, our choice of underwear will reveal our menu of possibilities.
I felt terrified but hoped it wouldn’t show. It had been three years since I’d had sex. Was I still working? Would it hurt? In the words of Charlotte York had I become re-virginised? It had been a decade since I could remember wanting it. That part of me had died and not even a year of sex therapy could revive it - but in this moment, stood naked in front of me, he could. I wasn’t dead, I’d been sleeping.
Being diagnosed with developmental delay as a consequence of childhood sexual trauma was a mix of sadness but also validation. It felt reassuring to understand why I hadn’t learned how to enjoy sex as I should have because my body had shut down certain parts. This information wasn’t disclosed to him of course. My husband of 10 years couldn’t handle it so the chances of him doing so were minuscule in my mind, besides I didn’t want to think about all of that. I wanted to forget. I wanted to feel pleasure, and feel free to put this down to a few too many fifty shades novels, but maybe even a little pain.
I had no idea I was still desirable to men. The memory of being so had faded and the thought hadn’t crossed my mind for fifteen years. If anything I’d let myself go throughout my marriage. When my desire for sex dwindled it dwindled for all men, not just him. I don’t think it was personal, I think it was inner wounds that needed tending to. When the thoughts of leaving my marriage began to surface I’ll admit the hope of being attractive to others was there but the knowing certainly wasn’t. In fact, at this point I resigned myself to the single life forever. It’s done I thought - the last thing I want is another man.
His body was so different to what I’d been used to. It felt like silk under my fingers, firm with the shape of muscles to trace and he still had a little tan left over from summer. I imagined him on the beach, then us on the beach and how it would feel to experience him in public. His touch felt like electricity under my skin and the smell of him, though alien to me, was magnetic. There was no point fighting it. I had been possessed in exactly the way I had wanted.
The wanting I felt burning inside had built up throughout our getting to know one another. I didn’t know who this person was. I didn’t know what to do with her. I even felt ashamed of her. This was not the Jessica Rose who takes self-portraits in the garden of her country cottage wearing a linen pinafore. This was the Jessica Rose who felt so desirable she wanted photograph her naked body to capture the feeling of coming back to life. I didn’t have a clue what to do with her. It was like being a teenager with raging hormones all over again, except I wasn’t a teenager and was acutely aware of this. I was a thirty something soon to be divorcee, but I felt how I felt and my body wanted what it wanted. Him.
Did I think of the old him during? Of course, every now and then. I think it’s normal for old lovers to haunt us, especially when we’ve been with them for so long. It wasn’t that I wanted to be with him instead, more like muscle memory or a thought of oh ok, you do it this way instead. The familiarity we build through long term partnership extends far beyond how we know they like their coffee in the morning.
It was passionate, it was disorientating and it was fast but I owned my desire and I felt proud of that. In a bid to combat my fears and ever the bookish type - I’d read that I should do this, that it would make me better - and I wanted to be good. I didn’t want to be the weird girl who was afraid and awkward. If I was going to be the weird girl I was at least going to own my weirdness. I wanted everything I’d felt starved of for the last ten years. There was no grand finale on my side or le petit mort as they call it in France. That's something I can only achieve with a little ‘help’ and I didn’t feel able to ask for it. He didn’t seem willing to offer it either.
As soon as it was over my body shut down. I couldn’t breathe. I felt ashamed of what I’d done. I wanted to cry. I wanted to disappear. I also wanted him to take it all away, but this was something only I could do. There was still much healing to be done. He asked if I was ok. I lied and said yes then disappeared to the bathroom as quickly as possible with my clothes underarm. The floor felt cold underneath me whilst I wept on it, quietly so he couldn’t hear. Soon enough I emerged from the blur of dissociation and my senses returned. Life continued as normal but as is always the case when our bodies are gifted to another so intimately, there would always be a before and an after.
When you’re married you don’t have to worry about when or if they’ll call or how they feel about you. It’s safe and it’s steady. Everyone knows where they stand, that there is commitment and nobody can just get up and walk away in the blink of an eye. Perhaps this is why the alternative feels more exciting. There’s uncertainty, there’s risk of rejection combined with the hope of possibility.
The exquisite taste I had savoured was in fact poison disguised as syrup. I thought he’d seen me. He hadn’t. Or he had but he didn’t want to love me for what he saw, which I think was worse.
It broke my heart that the experience didn’t mean the same to him as it had to me which I realised soon enough after. Until this point I hadn’t heard what was underneath the desire I felt take over me and it wasn’t purely physical. It was what I had also ached for with my husband. Intimacy. The desire to be seen, to be known, to be accepted and to be loved for every part of me, scars included.
I would be much more careful with my heart moving forwards, but the desire would continue. A ruthless duel between two opposing forces of longing for love and fear of what pain it might bring with it.
Have you ever experienced this feeling? What was your experience post long term relationship separation? I’d love to hear it if you’re willing to share.
Lots of love
Jessica xxx
Thank you for such beautiful, raw, honest vulnerability, Jess. God love you. I pray you get all that you long for and then some. Sex, desire, love and all. You don’t deserve it in fragments. You deserve the whole thing, to have your cake and eat it all at once. ♥️
So brave and healing to write this.
After 25 years with my late husband I can relate. When he died I was shut down and it took a few years for desire to return.
I wasn’t properly healed and a few relationships ended which was painful on top of the grief of losing my husband.
I’ve been single for a while and I’m focused on my healing and the relationship with myself and I now feel much more ready to enter a healthier relationship. I want the intimacy of feeling totally seen and that takes time and can’t be rushed.
So I’ll be slower to build the next relationship and protect myself until I feel more ready to open with deeper trust and connection ❤️🩹
I enjoyed the book Women’s Anatomy of Arousal by
Sheri Winston xx