216 Marbles
Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.
Jim Morrison
I saw a tattoo underneath the shirt of a co-worker and realized that after 155 marbles (just under five months without sex), I’m feeling a little flesh hungry, again. It’s not like I flirt shamelessly or prowl the bars like a cougar. I just miss having a sensual connection with another human.
I recently went to my massage therapist who commented on how stiff my shoulders were – she said she had never felt me so tight and wound up. “Do you think it’s because I’m not having sex?” I asked her. “I’m not sure,” she answered hesitantly. I’ll tell you my blunt answer – I’m pretty sure that a good lay would loosen my shoulders better than any massage. Woody Allen said, “Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” Since I don’t have a partner, I’m working on my “hand” but there are certain itches that a shower massage just can’t satisfy. I miss the intimacy of flesh on flesh.
My friend asked me today, “So, the marbles are so you don’t get involved. What about sex?” “Good question,” I answered (I was beginning to like the way she was thinking), “But involvement and sex have always been entwined for me and that, my friend, is the rub.”
There’s only a handful of people I’m attracted to at the moment and frightfully Ex-man is not completely off the list. Needless to say none of the candidates are acceptable, each for their own unique reasons: There’s a guy with a partner (I would never cross that line – whoever is meant for me will come to me unencumbered); there’s Ex-man (the sex may be good but the repercussions too confusing, and really? Isn’t it just time to let go?); and the other two are both too young (and one is a woman, complicating things considerably).
Perhaps I’m slightly worried that at my age I’ll never have a steamy affair again. Too many visits with my mom at the senior’s home make me realize that all of life is fleeting. W.C. Fields once said, “Some things are better than sex, and some are worse, but there’s nothing exactly like it.” On this particular marble, I can’t quite think of what is better than sex (I must be ovulating -thanks, hormones).
What would it take for you to enjoy this trek into the sexual desert of marbles? Could you learn to be more sensual with yourself? If you took away the fear that you would never have another (meaningful) sexual connection with another human, would this time be more enjoyable? Could you just resign yourself to the fact that hormones will play this trick on you every twenty eight marbles or so?
Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.
Jim Morrison
I saw a tattoo underneath the shirt of a co-worker and realized that after 155 marbles (just under five months without sex), I’m feeling a little flesh hungry, again. It’s not like I flirt shamelessly or prowl the bars like a cougar. I just miss having a sensual connection with another human.
I recently went to my massage therapist who commented on how stiff my shoulders were – she said she had never felt me so tight and wound up. “Do you think it’s because I’m not having sex?” I asked her. “I’m not sure,” she answered hesitantly. I’ll tell you my blunt answer – I’m pretty sure that a good lay would loosen my shoulders better than any massage. Woody Allen said, “Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” Since I don’t have a partner, I’m working on my “hand” but there are certain itches that a shower massage just can’t satisfy. I miss the intimacy of flesh on flesh.
My friend asked me today, “So, the marbles are so you don’t get involved. What about sex?” “Good question,” I answered (I was beginning to like the way she was thinking), “But involvement and sex have always been entwined for me and that, my friend, is the rub.”
There’s only a handful of people I’m attracted to at the moment and frightfully Ex-man is not completely off the list. Needless to say none of the candidates are acceptable, each for their own unique reasons: There’s a guy with a partner (I would never cross that line – whoever is meant for me will come to me unencumbered); there’s Ex-man (the sex may be good but the repercussions too confusing, and really? Isn’t it just time to let go?); and the other two are both too young (and one is a woman, complicating things considerably).
Perhaps I’m slightly worried that at my age I’ll never have a steamy affair again. Too many visits with my mom at the senior’s home make me realize that all of life is fleeting. W.C. Fields once said, “Some things are better than sex, and some are worse, but there’s nothing exactly like it.” On this particular marble, I can’t quite think of what is better than sex (I must be ovulating -thanks, hormones).
What would it take for you to enjoy this trek into the sexual desert of marbles? Could you learn to be more sensual with yourself? If you took away the fear that you would never have another (meaningful) sexual connection with another human, would this time be more enjoyable? Could you just resign yourself to the fact that hormones will play this trick on you every twenty eight marbles or so?
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