Truly, it’s an individual thing. We like what we like. But the concept of the “best sex ever” kind of blows my mind.
My sexual experience is limited. I got together with my Ex when I was 19. Until shortly after I turned 42, when I told him I wanted a divorce, it was just him. Since I was not an overly promiscuous teenager, even though I left home at 16, I only had sex with a couple of guys prior to the Ex. Three to be exact.
Frankly, I didn’t think I liked sex. Before the Ex I just figured me (and my partners) were too young to know what the hell we were doing and maybe I’d like it more later, when I tried it with someone more experienced. I was hopeful.
Then I got married.
I enjoyed sex with the Ex, to a degree, but never as much as he seemed to think I should. I was never enjoying it as much as he wanted me to and I was not gifted in the faking arena. Although I did get better at faking (and looking at the clock without him knowing it) over the 23 years we spent together.
Sadly, he liked lots of things I didn’t and while that was a bummer, it was my wifely duty to do those things anyway, or at least that’s what I thought. It just reinforced my belief that I didn’t like sex.
Turns out I was wrong.
Since my divorce I’ve had sex with a handful of men. I’m still not overly promiscuous so the number is three (which does not include “B”, since he was complicated at best with respect to sex and I can’t figure out how to categorize him).
As I sit now, at 45, almost 46 years old, having experienced sex with a grand total of 7 men, I would say that I’m experiencing the Best Sex Ever right now, with Blue Eyes and it’s an amazing thing.
There’s no clock watching, time just flies (hours); there’s no orgasm, there are many; there’s no pain, only pleasure and beyond that there is an underlying current of deep caring that comes off of Blue Eyes that I have never experienced before. Not even with my ex-husband.
I’m thinking about this today because I find myself retreating a bit from Blue Eyes and I’m not sure what that’s about. For all intents and purposes I’m crazy about him. I enjoy his company, his humor, his sweetness, his sarcasm, his handyman skills, and his intellect, his ability to make me feel special, wanted, and needed. And yeah, I love the way he acts as if he’s been waiting his whole life for me. But still I’m backing up.
I’m not sure he’s noticed yet. I kind of hope he doesn’t or I hope whatever has crawled up my ass about the relationship disengages itself. Again, I’m hopeful.
In the meantime I’ll spend this weekend with him, enjoying happy hour tonight at my favorite little Southeast Portland Mexican cantina, running a couple of half marathons (while he’s at my house fixing shit again), running mundane errands (that are much more fun in his company), and having the best sex ever.
No matter what my problem is, it’s clearly my problem. I’m sure I’ll work through it because, when I step back and look in, I cannot deny that every aspect of my life right now is pretty spectacular.