BlogMeBlogYou II: Dream A Marriage Drawn with Dotted Lines

Push (I push ) until U get 2 higher ground
Hey, push - U're never 2 young, U're never 2 old
Yeah push - don't stop until U go
- Prince [taken entirely out of context]

This is the second in an ongoing series of posts about other blogs I read. These words could be stuck in the "comments" section of the other blog, but really this is less a "reaction" to the original entry than an extensive elaboration.

Married Exploits: Confused

Now that Odysseus and I have opened the window into new sexual adventures and possibilities, I find that it affects what I think and feel when I'm with our friends.

That's Penelope of Married Exploits, kicking off a blog entry that is now more than a month old. (I've hit a crazy-busy patch at work, and that combined with some moonlighting work has made steady blogging quite the challenge.)

A lot of the blogs that I read on a regular basis are chosen because I want to live vicariously through their experience. Some of the bloggers who experiment with sharing their bed are so far out "ahead" that I can't imagine Amy and me doing what they do.

But Odysseus and Penelope -- they're a little newer to this experience. And though we have hardly come as far as this couple, when I read their give-and-take on the blog, I can almost imagine Amy and me sharing very similar thoughts. In other words: I can see Odysseus and Penelope's taillights ... and imagine possibly pulling up beside them someday. (Such heady life goals Denis entertains, you know?)

Anyway. Back to Penelope's thoughts:

In bed, Odysseus and I talk about the friends we are attracted to and the possibilities that could happen with them. This begins to create expectation in my mind and I begin to go into social situations with almost the mind set like I did when I was single. "Is this person a possibility? Should I flirt with them? What if?"

I once posted about a party Amy and I attended where we met an attractive couple. After the party, in a response to my query, Amy indicated the couple's positive "potential" for a foursome/swap/whatever. I put potential in quotes for a reason: I'm pretty sure that Amy was not going beyond the theoretical in that short conversation. While we fantasize during sex about such encounters, I wonder if, for her, this is anything more than an indulgence in my kinks.

I've been tempted to put that to the test — to tell Amy straight out that I am considering asking for a threesome or foursome for my wild-card coupon. I think to myself, What's the harm in putting it out there? "Anything ... Just ask." What's the worst that could happen? A "no?"

That is the worst that could happen. And if it did, certainly life would go on. Except that ... a hard "no" condemns the fantasy to Fantasyland in perpetuity.

I would live a very happy, fulfilled, lucky life without watching Amy suck another man's cock ... without watching Amy fuck another man while I fuck his wife ... without even fucking Amy in front of another person or couple. I mean, it's just a silly fantasy, right?

Yes ... on one level. On another level, it's a kink. A big one for me. And a kink runs deeper, is more potent, weighs heavier than mere fantasy. A lot of seed has been spilled, friends, in the dream-pursuit of the Orgy Of Four. So, while it would not be a tragedy to see that fantasy upended once and for all ... it would be mighty sad nonetheless.

So I'm caught in that oh-so-cliché Purgatory of the Meek: Do I push and take the chance of having a fantasy hobbled once and for all? Or do I stay mum and preserve the insatiable power that the image holds?

Of course I know what you're all going to say: Go for it, you idiot. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

Then I realize Odysseus and I have awakened this whole other realm of possibility to which most people, in general, are oblivious. They view us as married and sealed off. They view themselves as married or in a relationship and sealed off. The sexual energy, and often energy in general, is completely dormant. They are tired working adults.

In my head, I can't accept that my sexual energy is "sealed off." I view life around me in terms of sensuality. Pleasure. My life is a tide, and I have one insanely strong sex undertow. I'm a closeted libertine.

But I wonder if Penelope is describing my wife. On certain nights, in certain situations, Amy might entertain the thought of pushing that envelope. But, by her own admission, these are not dominant thoughts. I'd say, "Well, that's a difference between men and women," except that this oversimplified assertion wouldn't explain women like ... well, Penelope. And so many others I've come to know since launching this blog. Amy is my life partner, there's no question. But it's hard to think of an area in our relationship where we exist on planes further apart.

So what to do with this dichotomy? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps pushing ... gently.

How I long for — how many of my fellow bloggers long for — a world where the borders of marriage are more fluid. Where a couple can reserve certain emotions, certain intimacies just for themselves ... but still feel the freedom to share a sensuality with others who feel likewise. Oh, I know that this world exists now — many of you prove this. But wouldn't it be wonderful to not have to hide behind our anonymity, to be so scorned by fellow members of society?

Okay, I'll get off of this before I lapse into a rewrite of John Lennon's "Imagine."

I do keep in mind something else that Penelope points out:

If we keep the window open to these things and get aroused thinking and talking about it, reality always might be kind of disappointing. If we actually walk through the door, reality might fuck with our heads and be disappointing too.

There's always the fear of reality shitting upon the fantasy. But it comes down to "nothing wagered, nothing gained," right? So you try it ... and it sucks. Great! Now you can put that one behind you, opening up lots of time to obsess about another kink!

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Oh, Pen and Odie ... one more thing:

It has to be with the RIGHT couple, and god knows what this couple is really like.

If Amy and I work slowly down that road ... If I ask her ... If she says "okay ..." In a perfect world, Amy and I would be your right couple. It's not just something to think about; it's something to be fierecely aroused by.

BlogMeBlogYou

Don't get me wrong: I think blogging is, on the whole, a good thing. But for me, something's missing, and I think it's the sense of conversation. A true give-and-take, a back-and-forth, an exchange of ideas.

(There are, of course, other inherent faults and weaknesses to blogging, but for now I'll leave that discussion to critics who wax eloquent on why they embrace/despise the blogosphere.)

The "comments" section of a blog entry attempts to create dialogue, but too often that section ends up being no more than (mostly) lauds or (rarely) condemnations of the entry and its author. Which is fine -- God knows I love praise and criticism, as most of us do.

Some bloggers are really delving, exploring, questioning, pushing your envelopes. And sometimes that strikes a chord with readers, including myself. I'm finding I want to do more than just comment on someone's blog ... I want to "riff off" of that entry on my own blog. I know there are bloggers doing this, but it seems rare. I want to see more of it.

This may become a regular feature of The Concupiscent Husband ... I don't know yet. But at least this week, a couple of items moved me.


Married Exploits: The "Artemis" two-parter (Part 1 | Part 2)

Funnily enough, my first entry of this sort cites a blog entry that does exactly what I'm wishing there was more of! The Married Exploits blog is already a conversation of sorts between a husband and wife, "Odysseus" and "Penelope." And specifically in these two entries, Odysseus was reacting, at least in part, to an entry on the blog The Dark Side of Me. In that entry, Lena briefly bemoans the fact that men must repress one of their most beautiful (in her opinion) qualities: That they think about sex almost constantly. Odysseus "responds" in his own blog:

That's a big reason why I wanted to start this blog. Because there are lots of things that I think about that I feel compelled to repress.... It's kind of backwards to what you might usually think about society and sex. But it's true: men have a lot more thoughts than they are 'allowed' to admit.

Penelope later follows up:

I guess I've always seen it as society and media always bombarding us with sexual images and portraying impossible ideals for women and that in turns creates more lust and sexual thoughts in men. Could it really be the other way around and men are trying to conform to the expectation that they should view women less sexually and it is going against natural urges or instincts? Maybe it is both influences and expectations clashing in male minds.

I think Penelope's on the money here. It's almost as if society itself is operating under its own Madonna-whore complex: Our media and fashion cultures (which, it should be noted, is probably still pretty male-dominated) foists sex upon us at every turn -- because "sex sells" -- and then gets all uppity and pissy when a man is checking out his female co-worker's tits when she's wearing the á la mode low-cut number. There is a built-in expectation of repression.

(And while we're at it: To a lesser extent, doesn't this "syndrome" work its negativity in the other direction? If repressive community mores indicate that a woman is not to be viewed as a sex object, what does this do to the psyche of the woman who sometimes wants to be viewed that way? Is she automatically branded a slut?)

Reading these entries, I realized that Odysseus' motivation to blog is a big part of why I started my blog too. Many of you are led to believe from my entries (so far) that Amy's and my communication is pretty open; perhaps it is, relative to the average relationship. But I feel like I repress a lot of my sexual thoughts.

There are a number of reasons for this, and chief among them is that I don't want to annoy Amy with the already obvious fact that her husband has that stereotypical one-track mind. I worry that an increased discussion of sex in our everyday life would indicate a subtext of wanting more sex from her, heaping more stress on the sizable compost heap she already wields on her shoulders. And while it's true that I do want more sex, just because I'm talking about it doesn't mean I want to jump her bones right then. It's not like I don't feel I can tell her these things; I'm just (over?)sensitive to, you know, when enough's enough already.

I like Odysseus and Penelope's entries because the couple are talking around the fringes of the idea of inviting someone else into their bed. Will it ever really happen? Perhaps. But the outcome doesn't matter much, because the very fact that they're having these discussions is giving a positive sexual charge to their relationship.

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La fille Mariée: "Beautiful Cock"

Two things occur to me when I read this post.

First, how powerful the word "cock" can be. Almost as powerful, I think sometimes, as "fuck," a word that has been discussed to death by pundit-style eroticists for years. What makes this such a fun read is that you just begin to lose yourself in the poetry of LFM's writing, the sensuous experience she is sharing ... and then you run smack-dab into that word.

Look at "cock." No, not mine, you goof; look at the word. Hard on the outside, and just a little softer in the middle. It's onomatopoeic. It's less exclamation (like "fuck") than punctuation. There's no sweet-talking the word. You can't start to say it and then veer off in another direction, like you can with "fff ... udge." Cock is cock. Right there, in your face, demading to be dealt with.

So to juxtapose "cock" with LFM's prose -- even to juxtapose it with the word "beautiful" -- is a joyous thing. It makes my blood surge, no matter how many times I play the words back over in my head.

The second thing I wanted to say was this: These are the words of (and for) a new lover, on the level of some of the beauty of Song of Solomon. I remember my wife feeling this sort of passion for my body. Maybe she still does, but I'm betting it's not that often. I still feel an incredible depth of passion for hers, but I remember finding more ways to tell her -- ways similar to Mariée's deft post.

This is a new love, I believe, because there are so few loves of many years that can still express this "passion of discovery." That may sound like a forlorn observation, but I think of it more as a melancholy observation -- not melancholy as sadness, but rather as "pensive reflection or contemplation." The early weeks of a new love are frighteningly potent and stimulating. There's no way to maintain that level of energy over years -- embers are bound to cool and will need stoking. Yes, it would be nice if the mercury could be permanently suspended at that higher temperature, but if that were the case we wouldn't appreciate it nearly as much. That's why this kind of "youthful exuberance" should be, I believe, reserved for relationships in their youth.