Together for the Long Run
It felt scary at first, the idea of me, an old guy, writing about sex and intimacy. To discuss such private things in public seemed like trouble, like being caught outside bare-assed in broad daylight. In other words, exposed. Vulnerable.
An interesting problem, since I believe that to be intimate, in sex or any other way, one must willingly take that chance.
Sex is whatever happens when naked bodies come desirously together. It’s as simple — and as infinitely complex — as that. But for sex to be intimate, there must also be a shared sense of trust. That’s where things get risky. Because desire is not enough. One needs to move beyond physical attraction and take the chance of soulfully reaching out, of touching and in turn being touched.
Intimate sex requires the willingness of lovers to be emotionally uncovered. Not an easy thing to do. That is why such deep immersion, one into another, may be most beautiful, most sacred and sustainable, when kept private.
While sex is certainly, for many of us, the most pleasurable form of intimate love — from me highly recommended — it may be the least important. Since feeling is first, as Cummings rightly said, true contact begins before any physical touch.
Genuine feeling and connection, one person with another, is the highest goal.
Born into this world defenseless, we humans are lucky if we are protected and nurtured until able to take care of ourselves. From then on (since to some degree always alone and vulnerable) we look for people who can be trusted. A lifelong search. A search that begins within our own selves.
Every morning, I first get intimate with whatever part of me needs care. My feet for sure. I massage them with focused kindness, make sure they’re healthy, because I love to hike around on our magnificent North Coast, with which I am also intimate. Then I massage my hands, and especially my fingers, because they know I love to touch my wife, to hold her near, to feel her amazing skin. I try my best to keep them all happy and well cared for (feet, hands, wife) because of all they do for me.
At the ripe age of 76, my every day with her is a blessing. That’s the value of a long life — it gives more time to pay close attention, to learn why and how to show deserved appreciation.
Speaking of old age — that poor ragged stranger who comes tappingknocking- banging at our door, insisting- demanding to come in — best we open up and offer a comfy seat. Talk about an intimate relationship! Once with us, it never leaves. So, yes, we must learn to get along. And if we’re gracious hosts, if truly thankful that our bodies have kept us going all these years, old age can be a helpful guide. It teaches us to be gentle with ourselves and others — with anyone willing to open up, be vulnerable and trusting.
Who knows what might happen then? Just as great sex does not require orgasm, intimacy can come in strange, unexpected ways. And take us to unimagined places. With certain folks, it can be difficult. Or impossible. Even with kindred spirits, there is risk in such a journey. Like any wilderness adventure, it takes stamina, dedicated time and energy, and always some willing sacrifice.
We never know quite where we’re going, only that we are … together … going, with shared respect for the mutual effort, the communion and, no matter how things turn out, the enduring sense of a life well lived.
David Mohrmann lives in Arcata with his wife, Lee Torrence, and is the author of four novels.
