I recently joined a book club with a bunch of married women, most of them new friends. At the last meeting, after our requisite two-minute book critique, the topic changed to babies and, eventually, a very practical discussion of how often you need to have sex to make them. Then I threw out, "I don't know about you girls, but I certainly don't have sex every day anymore!" Everyone chuckled, a few mumbled "me neither," and then the room went silent. We all had an excited, if slightly tense, look on our faces, hopeful that someone would offer another PG-13 titbit. I pictured us refilling our wine glasses, tucking our legs under ourselves, and dishing on who's doing what, how often, where, and when. But we didn't. Someone mentioned Bethenny's baby, and just like that we were off on a Real Housewives tangent. The pregnancy talk we'd just had included details only a woman's gynaecologist should know, but talking about sex for fun? Crickets.
I can't help but think that if that room had been full of single ladies, things would have been very different. Before I got married, my friends and I talked freely, casually, even competitively about what we were doing in the bedroom. Those sessions were a way to bond, to commiserate, to laugh, to learn — and simply to have a good time. Rehashing reality TV is fun, but it's not the same kind of fun as hearing about the guy who wanted to lick barbecue sauce off your friend.
I'll admit that in some ways, it's understandable that we reel ourselves in once a guy becomes a permanent fixture. We're not just telling a funny/sexy/embarrassing story about "some guy"; we're talking about the person we chose to spend the rest of our lives with, the father of our children. Bottom line: We stop talking because it seems like the right thing to do. But is it? All those needs we had as single women — to bond and to learn — don't go away when we get married. If anything, they get bigger, because sex becomes more important. It doesn't take a Ph.D. to know that having sex is vital to keeping a marriage happy. Even a quickie can right wrongs and do what no couples counselor ever could. And though your sex life might be good (you know what works, what you want to try, and what you'll never do — never, babe), that doesn't mean it couldn't get even better. So why not talk about it?
The times I've opened up about sex with my married friends have been kind of amazing. Once, a friend who'd just had a baby mentioned not wanting to have sex or even be touched. Um, been there! We launched into a libido comparathon that made us both feel better about our ebbs and flows. Another time, I told a few friends about a new position I'd picked up from being a guinea pig in a magazine's sex story, and we all benefited. (It's called "advanced missionary": He doesn't thrust — he just slides up and down. Seriously, try it.) And it's not just me who thinks sex talk is a good thing: "The biggest question women have when it comes to sex is, 'Am I normal?' That curiosity doesn't go away when we get married," says Linda Banner, Ph.D., a sex therapist in San Jose, CA. "Talking intimately with friends helps validate what you're experiencing, and helps you figure out if you have a problem that needs attention."
All that said, I know there should be some guidelines. Running things through the "Would I mind if my husband said something like this to a friend?" filter is a good idea. If we were having problems, I would try to share some good with the bad, so that I didn't make my husband out to be a dud in bed. And rather than dishing too many nitty-gritty specifics, I'd allude, insinuate, and imply — in other words, avoid burning any images into my friends' brains that they'll never be able to shake. And for those times when I just need to spill something that's too hilarious or embarrassing to be deemed appropriate, I'll try to find a friend who isn't likely to be joining our family for taco night anytime soon. Like, say, someone from book club.
I can't help but think that if that room had been full of single ladies, things would have been very different. Before I got married, my friends and I talked freely, casually, even competitively about what we were doing in the bedroom. Those sessions were a way to bond, to commiserate, to laugh, to learn — and simply to have a good time. Rehashing reality TV is fun, but it's not the same kind of fun as hearing about the guy who wanted to lick barbecue sauce off your friend.
I'll admit that in some ways, it's understandable that we reel ourselves in once a guy becomes a permanent fixture. We're not just telling a funny/sexy/embarrassing story about "some guy"; we're talking about the person we chose to spend the rest of our lives with, the father of our children. Bottom line: We stop talking because it seems like the right thing to do. But is it? All those needs we had as single women — to bond and to learn — don't go away when we get married. If anything, they get bigger, because sex becomes more important. It doesn't take a Ph.D. to know that having sex is vital to keeping a marriage happy. Even a quickie can right wrongs and do what no couples counselor ever could. And though your sex life might be good (you know what works, what you want to try, and what you'll never do — never, babe), that doesn't mean it couldn't get even better. So why not talk about it?
The times I've opened up about sex with my married friends have been kind of amazing. Once, a friend who'd just had a baby mentioned not wanting to have sex or even be touched. Um, been there! We launched into a libido comparathon that made us both feel better about our ebbs and flows. Another time, I told a few friends about a new position I'd picked up from being a guinea pig in a magazine's sex story, and we all benefited. (It's called "advanced missionary": He doesn't thrust — he just slides up and down. Seriously, try it.) And it's not just me who thinks sex talk is a good thing: "The biggest question women have when it comes to sex is, 'Am I normal?' That curiosity doesn't go away when we get married," says Linda Banner, Ph.D., a sex therapist in San Jose, CA. "Talking intimately with friends helps validate what you're experiencing, and helps you figure out if you have a problem that needs attention."
All that said, I know there should be some guidelines. Running things through the "Would I mind if my husband said something like this to a friend?" filter is a good idea. If we were having problems, I would try to share some good with the bad, so that I didn't make my husband out to be a dud in bed. And rather than dishing too many nitty-gritty specifics, I'd allude, insinuate, and imply — in other words, avoid burning any images into my friends' brains that they'll never be able to shake. And for those times when I just need to spill something that's too hilarious or embarrassing to be deemed appropriate, I'll try to find a friend who isn't likely to be joining our family for taco night anytime soon. Like, say, someone from book club.
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