The Drummer’s libido appears to have returned from its migration of a month ago. He spoke surprising words of promise on the way home from work, our pants fell soon after opening the front door and we spent some ‘welcome back’ time rolling around on the bed in the late afternoon sun.
He is glad – simply and purely glad – that a vital element of his identity has returned. I am pleased, too, but the elusive causes are threatening to kill me with curiosity. ‘Why?’ and ‘why not?’ are my favourite questions and I almost stamp my feet in frustration when answers aren’t forthcoming.
This has been the first lull in his hair-trigger sexual response in almost a decade together (god, the times I spent in the past feigning sleep and excuses to avoid marathon hammerings — how I have changed). I have tried to be nearby and available on the surface, but gripping protectively to my chest the script of avid observer. What’s going on? When will it end? What will break the cycle?
Perhaps his malaise was a combination of job stress, medication, weariness from a lack of success with online dating and an acknowledgement of the ageing process. I am none the wiser and he doesn’t have any new insights. It just is, and it just was. [Postscript: he can always sense when I am ovulating – while I don’t know why his sex drive left, his comeback could be as simple as the evolutionary drive to fuck during my fertile phase.]
The difference in our psyches was obvious when we were sliding in the easy and compatible manner of long-term partners. I was lost in comfort-sex reverie, thinking about how he wouldn’t recognise me if he saw the sexually re-invented me in action with Jekyll or ArmyDude; at the same moment he interrupted my contemplation and asked what their dicks were like.
Come on brain, this is something the adulterers don’t have to deal with – ha!
I said, “Ooh, I don’t know. I regard men in their overall form and sense, rather than beginning with an appendage. Any dick is just a tool unless wielded skilfully and enthusiastically.”
He squinted and nodded vaguely, so I added, “Their dicks are nice; both are smaller than yours but they feel good. Really good.”
He smiled, and I think found peace that I was being looked after during his physical absence – not only sexually, but like a precious package marked ‘handle with care’ that has been delivered in perfect condition. He returned to enjoying his erection and my wettest place; my body settled happily into our tempo as I cast new thoughts about my live-affirming joy for Jekyll and almost insanity-causing desire for ArmyDude.