Today’s post was inspired by this tweet from Girly_Juice.
"I've never laughed this much during sex" is a thing that almost everyone I've ever banged has said to me. I don't know what to make of that
— Kate Sloan (@Girly_Juice) December 27, 2015
It sounds like she’ll be talking about it in the upcoming episode of Dildorks, but I wanted to give you my own take on it. Plus, dear readers, it’s been a hell of a long time since I wrote anything, let alone anything about my personal sex life. So, down the rabbit hole we go.
I’ve had a lot of serious sex. My first sexual partner and ex-husband was pretty serious about it. We didn’t laugh during sex, even though we smiled and we loving. Laughter, it seemed, wasn’t something that *belonged* in sex. Sex was Serious Stuff (TM), and there was no room for laughter.
I felt that if we laughed, it took away from the moment. It meant we weren’t taking it seriously enough. As a result, any laughter was accidental and often uncomfortable. That’s a pretty association to have with something so awesome, don’t you think?
But it was all I knew.
It wasn’t the worst sex of my life by far. We were in love, after all. But it was limiting, and I couldn’t come to understand that until I had a few more notches on my bedpost. Although many men near my age seem to subscribe to that sort of serious sex-having, some don’t. The Bartender is a notable example. While I originally found him to be overly chatty, I eventually fell in line.
We talked and, yes, we laughed. Without all the limitations created by such serious sex, I found myself being more myself inside the bedroom. It helped me to de-compartmentalize, and it was a welcome change!
Apparently, the change became permanent. Even though it’s been years since I’ve slept with The Bartender, my last partner remarked how much I chatted. It was obvious that being chatty and even laughing at something he did that was funny took him directly out of his headspace. He couldn’t be interrupted in any way.
Neither of us left satisfied, I’m afraid. I’m not one to judge, but if you’re unable to have sex with someone who is talking to and laughing with you during sex, then you’re limiting yourself — just like I was limited with my ex.
And the realization dawned on me that this just wasn’t good for me. It left me feeling disconnected. So not only was I left out in the cold physically, but there wasn’t any sort of human connection, and I was stuck inside my head. That’s something I’ve battled with for years, and it’s not a place I like to be when I can help it.
Perhaps this beautiful and seemingly inexperienced man was just a bad match for me. But I bet a lot of people would enjoy themselves a hell of a lot more if they simply allowed themselves to be themselves during sex, chattiness and laughter included.
Sometimes you kick someone in the dick, you fart or positions just don’t work. Being able to laugh at those moments and with one another seems to be not just something that is desirable but might be necessary to enjoy sex without complete mortification.
I guess, what I’m saying is, I crossed that bridge laughing the whole way. And now I won’t go back.
