It started with porn. We watched porn together sometimes, more his desire than mine, but whatever, it was kind of hot. I mean, porn is weird and unsexy and a bit depressing if you think about it too much or pay a lot of attention to it, but if you can find a good one and pay attention for the beginning only, it can be good. It’s like watching a horror movie and you tense up and your blood pressure rises even though you know it’s fake — given the stimuli, your body can’t help but produce a physical reaction.
Anyways, we watched porn together sometimes and I knew he watched it alone. I’m not like, “the cool girl” who’s totally okay with her boyfriend watching porn but I knew it was an uphill battle and one that wasn’t going to end well for either of us, so I tried to use it to bring us closer together. One night, loosed by a few stiff drinks over ice we drank on his balcony, watching the city lights come on and turn off — the full metropolitan life cycle in one night — I asked him what he liked about porn, and whether access to me or all the other women in the world (hotter ones, I even gave him) would be better, ideally.
His answer surprised me, it wasn’t about quality or quantity, but about availability. With me, (and he loved me very much, he clarified), he had to woo me, constantly. Sex was never a given, and this is a biological difference between men and women. He was trying, all the time to make me think of him sexually and to initiate sex and even my higher-than-average female libido couldn’t keep up with him. As loving and as open and assuring as I was towards him, he was still getting rejected by me in this way, often (and even more often if he would be honest about how frequently he wanted sex).
THE KANDDLE!!! 