November 24, 2009

Failure to Communicate

by NuMe

When it comes to verbal communication, my husband generally have no problem finding things to discuss. Actually, one of the things I love most about him is that he truly listens to me and respects my opinions. But there’s one topic we both stumble over—sex. Actually, it isn’t the topic of sex per se, but being able to effectively communicate our wants and needs.

Unintentionally Incommunicado

I’d also like to be able to talk dirty during sex. But that almost never happens—unless it’s in the heat of the moment, and my mouth blurts something out before my brain has a chance to stop it. I can’t even get up the nerve to tell him to pull my hair when I want him to. It’s easier to try to will him to do it than it is for me to say it. (Oh to be a Jedi, now that spring is here.)

I don’t know what in the world I think is going to happen if I just open up. It’s not like my husband would be shocked or say, “I want a divorce!” Knowing him as I do, my frankness would actually be a big turn-on. He’d probably jump at the chance to do some of the stuff that goes through my head. And believe me, though I can’t put them into words, I can definitely come up with all kinds of wonderful, kinky things we could be doing together.

Case in point: I knew for a long time that he’d wanted to try anal, but I wasn’t ready. However, there eventually came a point when I did want to try it—only I couldn’t tell him. So, I waited, figuring he would bring the subject up again. But he didn’t, which is just crazy because for years he kept asking. And now, all of a sudden, when I want to, he gives up? WTF?

Well, after waiting a while, I decided to write him a little note, which I did, several times. All were quickly torn up and thrown in the garbage. Thinking it would be much more difficult to rip up the phone, I tried to text him, but I just couldn’t hit send.

Finally, I went online and ordered some toys, lube and a video about anal sex. When they arrived, I put everything in a box, wrapped it up really pretty, put a huge bow on top, and left it on the bed for him as a present on our usual date night. I was so apprehensive that I couldn’t even be in the same room when he opened it, but when he came out of the bedroom with a big, shit-eating, “I know exactly what I’m getting tonight” grin on his face, I knew I’d scored a homerun. (That strategy worked so well, that unbeknownst to him, I’ve used the video ploy a couple of other times. It’s just easier to mention something looks fun or interesting while you’re watching someone else do it.)

Still, I really do wish I could get up the nerve to tell my husband my deepest, darkest desire down to the very last dirty detail (Hint: It includes plenty of domination and verbal communication on his part). Maybe I could do it right here and now: “Good morning, Mr. Phelps. Your mission is to...to...” On second thought, maybe not. I’d only have to destroy my computer, and have the secretary disavow any knowlege of my actions.