As much as there has been the decline of the mommy-blog, there has been the rise of the mommy vlog – or – more accurately, the mommy reel. Look, I know there is mommy tiktoks but I never downloaded it and watch the best stuff on insta anyway. ANYWAY.
I have laughed until I have cried watching these amazing women relate, hilariously, the struggle of motherhood. Of long term partnership. Of raising littles. Of raising boys. Of raising girls. Of navigating Target. Of wiping butts. Of screaming in frustration and then apologizing and then learning to do better and then sitting in your car, rocking out to Avril Lavign and crying into a brownie while promising yourself that those little munchkins aren’t going to change me.
But there is one part that genuinely continues to baffle me. Kind of. Let me explain.
Recently, one of my favorite mommy vloggers had a whole schtick about how less than helpful her husband was being during homeschooling in a pandemic and how focused on sex he seemed to be instead. And she was NOT having it. The point was made that he is always in the mood and they have stuff to do!
And this is when I begin to think that we brilliant, hilarious, strong, informed, courageous women are having ISSUES in the bedroom. Because I cannot know this many women, directly or not, who don’t enjoy sex.
It’s sex. It’s fucking fantastic – literally. It’s good endorphins and hormone dumps and feels amazing. And if it is not those things – there are ways that it can be. If your dear husband – partner – whatever – is not being a selfish prick.
What on earth is more important than 15 minutes of fucking? What cannot wait 15 minutes? Lock the door. Undress each other. Kiss. Feel good. Do I always finish? Nope. Does he? Also nope. *Finishing is not the goal.*
*Connection is the goal.* *Feeling his hands on me is the goal.* *Feeling him in me is the goal.* *Feeling him is the goal.* *Being felt is the goal.* *Letting myself be desired, wanted, chased is the goal.* *Feeling good is the goal.* *Teaching my kids that time together is more important than anything else is the goal.* *Getting those feel good drugs in my system is the goal.*
Now, granted, I understand that there are times and ways that are less than ideal for the sex. I, for one, really struggle at being interrupted for the sex. It is already difficult for me to close one tab in my brain and switch to another. Doing so unexpectedly and quickly is nigh impossible for me and makes it truly difficult to enjoy sex unless we have a long time (almost never happens, thanks pandemic) to get me in the mood. I dislike having sex on the first day of my period. I definitely cannot have sex if I get too tired, because for me, too tired equals nauseated. The neither of us enjoy sex if we have just eaten a large meal. There are a myriad of times in which we politely decline advances because the timing is poor for one reason or another. But to decline the majority of the time strikes me as… off.
I know it is a staple of the family comedy, a man who always wants sex and a wife who treats sex like some grand prize that must be earned with shallow yet large displays of affection but this – this was never meant to be our reality.
So ladies… what’s up? Are we no longer attracted to our partners? Is it because they are not fulfilling our needs emotionally? Physically? Are we resentful of them because we are doing more and not having meaningful conversations with them about this? I get it, communication is hard. Telling a guy that he is turning you off with his less-than-can-do attitude is not a fun conversation. But it’s got to be better than turning him down constantly and depriving yourself of the sex. It’s got to be better than another 20-40 years of being in a sex deprived relationship with simmering resentment. This is our future we are talking about. Our life.
I love you guys. We lift each other up. We turn terrible days into comedy gold. We join each other in solidarity that raising kids isn’t hard – it’s impossible and our sanity is often sacrificed. But this common ground of sex being something our partner has to earn or some extra burden we carry – no fram. I am not taking part.
I am here for you. I will hold your hand while we talk about hard things and have hard conversations with our partners, and ourselves. And I understand that we have all had less than stellar to downright traumatic experiences around sex. It is complicated. No two women are the same. And I’m not trying to get anyone to feel bad about how much sex they are having. I am only trying to address the underlying theme in so much feminine humor that sex is our burden instead of our joy. That sex is for men. That sex is some treat we dangle instead of a cake we get to eat together. Often.
Tell me. I want to know. What. Is. Up.
The Book of Her 