Like any other couple in their honeymoon period, my husband (then boyfriend) and I were drunk in love. I still remember the night we met – a winter wedding. A bonfire party. The aroma of toasted marshmallows. Acoustic music. Mushy weather. Giggles were followed by snuggles and before we knew, we were wrapped in one shawl. Our chemistry during the dating period was enviable. We didn’t let go of a single opportunity to make love. We did it everywhere. In the elevator, the parking garage and the movies, on the bed, the beach and the kitchen counter. We kissed senselessly in filthy washrooms and on the carpet of a lavish suite with equally remarkable intensity. We were way too distracted to care.
(As told to Priya Chaphekar)
After Marriage Everything Changed
Two years later we got married and the tower of lust came crashing down. Yes, the first few months were full of action, but the fruit was no more forbidden. We could eat it whenever we wanted to. So sometimes it was overripe, sometimes it shrunk like a raisin and the rest of the times it sat in the fridge, losing its divine essence with every passing day. I could walk naked around the house and my beloved husband would no more feel the need to grab me by my waist and pin me down. The chase had clearly ended.
Next up I started reading listicles on lifestyle websites and magazine features about “How to rejuvenate the spark after marriage?”, “Have your New Year steamed”, “What does your man want?”, “8 ways to make lust last”. I spent a bomb on sexy lingerie, which by the way was exceedingly uncomfortable, perfumes and body butter. But nothing helped.
I’m not sure if it’s the age difference or our timing, but our sex life went from dramatic to dull in just a few years. Sex life, not love life. We were still in love. We travelled to explore the unexplored, surprised each other on special occasions and showered and cuddled together at night. But he was no more the wild boy I fell in love with under a moonlit sky. It was kind of a sexless marriage now.
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He wanted less, I wanted more
When my husband’s libido was dwindling rapidly, mine was swelling like a rising tide. I began pleasuring myself under a hot shower and under the quilt on nights when I was alone at home.
Then I realised I functioned better after hitting the big O. I didn’t want to be one of those frustrated women who needed to ‘get laid’ to overcome their crankiness, so I turned to the props I’d tucked away in my pop-coloured sandook. No longer did I have to make my husband a drink to get him in the mood or go in for a supremely painful Brazilian wax appointment every month. I could take care of my own needs.
Well, so I thought until I ran into Karan, my friend from school, at the grocery store. We reconnected with each other on social media. A week down the line we were already flirting with each other. His ‘good mornings’ meant more to me than sunshine itself even as I hungrily gobbled his compliments – on the colour of my skin, the shape of my lips and the curve of my waist. Karan’s sweet words reassured me that I was still smokin’ hot even in my early 30s.
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On one hand, was my husband I loved so dearly and on the other was Karan, who I knew was capable of kissing every inch of my skin, making me feel like a modern-day Aphrodite.
Would it be fair for Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of love to plead a man to make love to her? No, it wouldn’t. So one day, when Karan invited me home for a cup of coffee, I went and things turned out just the way I wanted them to.
The fun is back in my life
I don’t remember the last time I quivered when a guy planted wet kisses on my neckline or gently slid his nimble fingers up my back to unhook my bra, the last time when I stayed in bed after making love, sipping coffee and sharing a smoke, the last time a man-made me feel oh-so-beautiful.
I know this is wrong in many ways, but then it’s also wrong to suppress your needs and keep feeling yourself under the blanket day after day. Waiting for your partner to get an erection seems as forever as your crush’s reply. Loving yourself is good, but if someone is willing to love you too, maybe you could give them a chance?
Loving yourself is good, but if someone is willing to love you too, maybe you could give them a chance?
At your own risk, though.