Sweet Discussions
Posted 02-15-2013 at 03:31 PM by KatieGal
I have an anxiety disorder. About two weeks ago I had an “episode” that lasted several days. It wasn’t pretty. I described it in my last blog entry. I have spent the last two weeks in a state of recovery. Four days ago I felt good enough to go to work for a half day. I think being busy helped. A couple of days ago I remember thinking that I was starting to feel pretty good again. That afternoon I went out by myself on a hike. The next morning I felt the anxiety again, but as the day went along, I felt better, in fact, I felt a little better than I did the day before. That’s the way this recovery has gone; slow but steady.
I have not been intimate with my boyfriend, Steve, in those two weeks. With yesterday being Valentine’s Day, I thought what better time to get back to a little physical passion. I gave Steve fair warning. I told him he was going to get my homemade lasagna… and me.
Last evening we hurried through our helpings of lasagna, brushed our teeth, and quickly headed for my bedroom. I must say, I had a great time. I mean a great time. I’m pretty sure that Steve wasn’t overly bored either.
Afterwards, we lay there together and talked. Unless there is some emergency or some pressing matter, we always do this; a relaxed, post intimacy conversation. These talks last anywhere from perhaps ten minutes, to maybe even an hour or more. We will not answer beckoning cellphones or the door. Sometimes we cuddle as we converse, sometimes we lay there face to face a few inches apart, and sometimes we are spooning. We discuss almost anything that comes into our minds. Sometimes the topic is philosophical, such as our views of life. Other times we will talk of things that have happened to us during the day.
Steve and I talk at dinner, and when we are out someplace, and even when watching TV, but our conversations in bed seem different somehow. We are there together without any distractions, just the two of us. Our voices are soft, almost in whispers, and we are permitted to touch each other, and issue random kisses. It is very blissful, very soothing.
This all began the first time Steve and I were intimate several months ago. I remember it perfectly. We laid there next to each other, my arm resting across his stomach, with Steve softly confessing to being very nervous, and my immediate disclosure to being “scared to death”. Five minutes later I was talking comfortably about some silly incident from my childhood with Steve a half a pillow away, listening to every word.
I truly love the sex, but I sometimes wonder if those pleasant moments of gentle conversation afterwards are more important in the long run. I know that for two weeks I have missed them.
I have not been intimate with my boyfriend, Steve, in those two weeks. With yesterday being Valentine’s Day, I thought what better time to get back to a little physical passion. I gave Steve fair warning. I told him he was going to get my homemade lasagna… and me.
Last evening we hurried through our helpings of lasagna, brushed our teeth, and quickly headed for my bedroom. I must say, I had a great time. I mean a great time. I’m pretty sure that Steve wasn’t overly bored either.
Afterwards, we lay there together and talked. Unless there is some emergency or some pressing matter, we always do this; a relaxed, post intimacy conversation. These talks last anywhere from perhaps ten minutes, to maybe even an hour or more. We will not answer beckoning cellphones or the door. Sometimes we cuddle as we converse, sometimes we lay there face to face a few inches apart, and sometimes we are spooning. We discuss almost anything that comes into our minds. Sometimes the topic is philosophical, such as our views of life. Other times we will talk of things that have happened to us during the day.
Steve and I talk at dinner, and when we are out someplace, and even when watching TV, but our conversations in bed seem different somehow. We are there together without any distractions, just the two of us. Our voices are soft, almost in whispers, and we are permitted to touch each other, and issue random kisses. It is very blissful, very soothing.
This all began the first time Steve and I were intimate several months ago. I remember it perfectly. We laid there next to each other, my arm resting across his stomach, with Steve softly confessing to being very nervous, and my immediate disclosure to being “scared to death”. Five minutes later I was talking comfortably about some silly incident from my childhood with Steve a half a pillow away, listening to every word.
I truly love the sex, but I sometimes wonder if those pleasant moments of gentle conversation afterwards are more important in the long run. I know that for two weeks I have missed them.
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