When was the last time you made love so spontaneously you couldn’t have predicted it 20 minutes before? What attitudes lead to such surprises and what attitudes prevent them from happening?
I have no idea when the last time that I’ve had spontaneous love or love period; I blame the darkness and pain of the last 8 months for not knowing. It’s not that I don’t remember the good times, I just don’t remember specific dates and times. I just remember the memories. O. K., that part was stupid and confusing.
I remember one time that we were going at it so badly, we fell off of my bed. I remember holding her in my arms has the rain poured around us in my car. I have the memories; the taste of her skin has I kissed her neck, the feel of her skin has I ran my hand up her inner thighs, the touch of her tongue has it caressed my body, the smell of her has her passion rose, the sight of her, glowing in the moonlight.
Actually I do remember the last time that I made love to her. It was sometime within the first month of our separation. I had gone into a serious depression and just crying and wallowing in it. Mike was going to Antioch to see his friend, Bora; and I asked him to stop by Suzanne’s house to drop some stuff off. Later that night Suzanne came over and tried breaking my window by throwing rocks at it. I remember it being a total replay of an earlier break-up, except that she was the one that was calm, cool, and collected while I was the slobbering mess. She spent the night and it was more light fooling around than anything else. The next day we went grocery shopping. The night was enough for me to pull myself somewhat out of my depression.
Well, I think that I could handle spontaneous love-making. I think for me, it depends on the mood that I’m in. If I’m not in the mood, it’s just a matter of the right amount of badgering/nagging/pushing me into it. Eventually, I’ll give in and just go with the flow. Granted the whole point of spontaneous is to be spur of the moment and all, but remember I can be somewhat stubborn (It’s the Taurus inside of me).
A 40-something rediscovering life in California