He had been flirting with me all evening. He played ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ (“crazy little woman in a one man show”) while he did the dishes and wiggled up next to me as I was putting food away. I laughed and danced with him for a few minutes. When we were done, he poured me a shot of tequila and looked at me in the way that, even after 20 years together, said, “I want you. Badly.” He made sure the bed time routine put no extra pressure, no extra energy drain, on me, so once the kids were soundly asleep he took my hand and walked me into our bedroom.
I stood near the window and pulled up the shade. “I want to see the moon and the snow,” I whispered. Our bedroom was desperately cold on this New England night, but I felt his warmth as he stepped close to me. The soft wires of his wool sweater wrapped around me as he pulled me into a hug from behind. I fully relaxed into his chest, letting any tension go. He had done his job well and the little fire of desire in my body was brightening and growing. I wanted the silk and the heat of sex and orgasm just as much as he did. “God, you feel good,” I purred. His lips were suddenly, gently on my neck, placing kisses from ear to shoulder and back again. His arm pulled back and gently squeezed my breast. His moan, low and gray, made my chest vibrate.
I spun around so we were chest to chest and put my arms up around his neck, drawing him down towards me. “You gotta bend down for love from short girls,” I giggled. “I know, I know…” he quietly laughed with me. His lips touched mine for my favorite kind of kiss, soft and open with the pressure of desire gradually fusing our bodies together.
Still kissing like teenagers, he pulled us back onto the bed. It was sacred ground, having held so many kinds of love between us. I straddled his hips and smiled down at him as he undid the buttons of my shirt with a grin on his face that said one thing, “I’m so lucky.” His fingers were cold, like snowflakes on my skin as they fluttered through each button. He pulled the shirt down around my arms and I felt the cold of the night truly hit my skin and sink in. It made my body and energy contract rather than expand, and everything within me shut down.
::: ::: ::: :::
That was a fictionalized account of something that happened between my husband and me a month or two ago. We were both excited for sex after a long day and just really needed the warmth of bodies, the heat of desire, and the release of orgasm. All during the day, my body was asking for things, imagining the feel of certain movements and actions, during this yet-to-be romp with my partner. My body wanted freedom, openness, and a way to express the fullness and depth I felt at that moment. I didn’t want to be under sheets, I wanted to be out, open, on top of him, full of myself and my desire. I wanted to let my best, sexiest self out as we got it on.
But the room was fucking cold.
And that totally killed my desire.
There I was, one minute feeling like a total sex goddess- knew what I was gonna do with my body, what I was gonna do with his body, and how I was gonna make us both very, very happy and warm and relaxed. And the next minute I was almost totally shut down because of the uncomfortable coolness of our bed room.
I am a very practical person, so I hopped off the bed (and off of him) and got a little space heater we keep in the basement. I closed the door to our bedroom, turned the heater up to ‘high,’ and then proceeded to do some heavy making out for 20 minutes until the room warmed up (and so did we!).
And theeeeeeen…when I could feel comfortable without the need of sheets to keep me warm…then all the goddessy things happened.
What I discovered in that moment is that one of the keys to feeling like a sex goddess, or being one, is feeling comfortable.
And, of course, ‘comfortable’ is whatever you define it to be. Our sex goddess self is like a flower- it needed certain conditions to blossom.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is the room temperature.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is the relationship temperature.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is the right underwear (some of us like thongs, some of us like boy shorts!).
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is letting out emotions before we get in the sack with someone.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is no chores or kids so we can calm and center ourselves.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is loud music and hard kissing.
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is ‘not until day 8 of my cycle.’
Sometimes ‘comfortable’ is only when my anxiety is down to a level 4.
What makes us comfortable is only something we can define. And it is changeable! We can feel a certain kind of comfortable the first time we’re having sex with someone (that hot, exciting, curiosity) that may not exist again after our first 2-3 times together. What is comfortable shifts and changes with days, seasons, and years. Our sex goddess self is the most interesting and unique flower that needs different conditions to bloom.
What is ‘comfortable’ and allows us to feel free sexually is also different for different parts of ourselves. Even now, I pretty much feel completely sexually comfortable physically with my husband, but there are still moments of emotional discomfort- because we are changing and growing and we fight and have differences and those things effect how I feel sexually. And when I feel emotionally uncomfortable, my sex goddess self tends to fold inward a bit; she’s not fully there.
The thing is, though, that when we feel comfortable- or as comfortable as possible- we are more likely to feel free, and it’s the freedom piece that helps your sex goddess self come into the room, come into your body, and come into the sex you’re having.
If you’re wanting to feel like a sex goddess, find out what it is that makes you feel most comfortable. Think about body, mind, spirit, emotions, and environment. Include your partner in this discovery; let them know things change and what you need this time to make it good. Don’t be afraid to stop or change things up if your sex goddess self asks for something different. Find your comfort, because in your comfort is your freedom.