I asked my lover how he would define intimacy. I was curious, as he had once said that we were "intimate" (I wrote about that earlier, so I won't go into it now). His definition was "a combined closeness...physical and emotional, between two people." And I responded with my own definition: "in to me see." To me, intimacy is being seen--and being ACCEPTED--for who you are, deep down inside (and vice versa).
An interesting difference in definition, eh? I mean, I agree with his definition, as a basic definition, but I believe intimacy goes way beyond a combination of the physical and emotional. When you learn a secret about another person and accept the valuable gift of that secret and offer a nonjudgmental, compassionate embrace [as a metaphor] in exchange, that to me is intimacy. Intimacy can be more than a romantic relationship; I would consider my closest friendships to be intimate. Some friends know more about my secrets than my husband ever will, for example.
I think, well, I know, my chosen definition comes from my problems with the word. Adult children of dysfunctional families tend to have difficulty with intimacy. I encountered many bumps along this road, for example, the overenmeshment with my father--not a normal intimate father-daughter relationship; or the difficulty I had with my sister's shaming responses when I would attempt to initiate intimacy in the form of sharing my thoughts and feelings and even a secret or two. I remember trying to tell her about some of the pain my husband and I were going through and the brisk, judgmental, almost angry tone of her voice shocked me into shame. I felt like I had become less of a person in her eyes--just as I was getting used to the acceptance and kindness and understanding I received from the members of my ACOA group. The sting of that has never left me.
This wonderful article, Fear of Intimacy, is extremely powerful. So much so that I find it hard to read more than a few paragraphs in a sitting. But to me, it rings of truth. If you are an ACOA and sense that intimacy is something that might need a little work, please read and share this, but slowly.
I've got some soothing jazz on in the background (good old Frank Sinatra) and I'm trying to sort out the big questions running through my mind....now that I've experienced both extremes of the "relationship" spectrum, I am more confused than ever. What is important in this life? What do we really need in our lives? Are we coerced to believe that passion can fulfill the hole deep inside of us or is this something instinctual? Or is this a biological urge? What about romance, what about love? What do our cultures persuade us to believe about this? How much of an effect does marketing and advertising have on what we believe we want?
I honestly don't know. Sex without affection and intimacy feels cold and lonely. Love and romance without much desire feels sad. When I have one, I want the other. When I am in the throes of passion with my lover, the world ceases to exist, but my body desires BOTH physical satisfaction and the closeness that perhaps my hormones crave afterward. I cry every time we finish and I begin to dress to leave. I want him to hold me, to stroke my face and tell me that he cares about me. He does hold me, he does stroke my face, but he says "are you a happy girl?" And I look him straight in the eyes and say yes. He walks me impatiently out the door, where a doormat simply states it all in one word: "leave." I then drive away from his street, pull off to the side and break down in tears. I feel so cold. So alone and empty. He was in me, he left part of him inside me, his body touched mine in the most intimate of caresses, but there's nothing to show for it and I'm driving home alone. The desire and fulfillment was temporary. I ache.
He does not. He is glad to have me out of his home and out of his physical life, not having to deal with any emotion, any "drama," any talk of relationship or feelings. He just moves on, until he wants it again and begins "courting" me like an animal in heat, speaking half-truths that he forgets he ever said after he's been satisfied. I don't understand why I feel a need for something he despises.
At home, my marriage is warm and friendly. Many times, though, we take each other for granted, we move about like ships in the night. When we were dating, he wooed me with ice cream, holding hands, romantic messages. And it's been over 20 years we've been together, and he is a constant presence, mostly comforting, at times annoying, as people tend to be after so long, but steady and true. Dare I even say it, dull. No excitement, no surprises anymore, no tender early mornings, holding each other. Which is why we embarked on this thing in the first place.
So, what do I want? Passion or stability? Is this what happens to all marriages after so long? Are women programmed to want intimacy and desire at once or is this just me?
When I am shopping, I am very cognizant of the sexual theme in product advertising these days. Everything is geared toward "sexy": clothes, makeup, even groceries and bedding! Lean, mostly nude women lounge all over products, and even if the advertising is more subtle, it reeks of sex. In this culture, we are taught to consume in order to entice...we are taught that consuming and exuding sexuality is what we should live for. It is a very powerful message we are being given. It makes stable, mostly content, but somewhat unexciting marriages seem like a bad choice and, I truly feel, encourages low self-esteem and a focus on obtaining the unsustainable high that sexuality offers . It's just one factor among personal choices, of course, but if you have been to America, it will hit in the head like a brick. It is the essence of American consumerist culture.
But the result of consuming for attraction, for seeking pleasure without love, at least for this conflicted woman, is emptiness. Achinesss. And tears, lots of them.
"No ma'am, it isn't. A lover you can relax
with, explore with, ask for what you want, ask for what they want, and
try everything you both want.
As a casual sex thing there isn't the time to learn the things you can with a lover. In my humble opinion anyway." http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/761861#ixzz1aUAWJBx7
This whole relationship started out as a casual sex idea. Signed up on a sex site, put up an ad, as I've said before. We started chatting near the beginning of my tenure on this site. He never expected to meet in person, and by the time I had chosen the first and second encounters and had gone through hell, he was pretty sure we never would. I told him there was no chance; he was better off looking for another tryst. But he stuck around, we chatted for a few years, we became friends, sort of...had a lot of cybersex, and finally out of the blue, my husband and I were ready to test the waters again. We felt we could trust him, and he was accommodating in every way. We met for the first time on my 40th birthday, and the explosive energy was immediate and overwhelming. I thought that would be it, sadly, really sadly. I cried for weeks afterward. Two years later, though, we have not only kept in touch and but he also rode out my pregnancy with me in a supportive, yet erotic way. And now, we are lovers, in the above definition of the word, and our hope is to be this to each other for quite a while. I pray this will be the case. Oh women, to have a lover who appreciates a pregnant body is such a blessing. And afterward, even more so. This is a blessing I would wish on any woman who wants it.
I've always wanted to read Lady Chatterley's Lover. Perhaps now is the perfect time.
I've discovered a new site called "The Experience Project," in which one can talk about any
kind of experience they want or have had. I have only looked it over,
but it seems to be an honest, open place. Join me there if you like
(liliacspring). www.experienceproject.com
