Do you know there is a name for that warm, squishy, cozy, lovely feeling you get when you are absolutely totally enamored with someone?
It's called limerence.
Surviving cancer made me realize I was missing limerence from my life. I have lots of love, certainly, but not limerence.
It made me look at my marriage like how I look at my breasts; everything looks perfect on the outside, but upon closer inspection something that was once there is not there anymore.
In essence, my marriage has become like my missing nipples.
Now do I need nipples for my breasts to function? No. They can fit into a bra, and live on my chest quite comfortably without nipples, thank-you-very-much.
Do I need limerence for my marriage to function? No, not really. As my eventual ex-husband said, ''Maybe that magical feeling you want doesn't exist. Maybe no one has that. Isn't it enough for us to just love each other, and be happy, and raise our family together?''
I think that magical feeling does exist. I think people do have it. And no, it isn't enough to just love each other, and be happy, and raise our family. I want limerence in my life. In fact, I need it. It only took having cancer to realize that I didn't have it.
''Are you even still in love with me?'', I asked one day. I asked this because of various actions, or inactions, which occurred while I was sick, and had broken my wrist. I felt someone who was in love with their partner would have acted differently.
''Well, that's not an easy question...'' was the reply.
When someone devotes 12 years of their life to you, travels the world with you, relocates to a new city and creates a home with you, bears children for you, and then asks, after surviving a life-threatening disease, if you are still in love with them, for me, that would be the easiest question in the world to answer. The fact that it wasn't told me everything I needed to know about my marriage.
It was over.
That brings us to raw pleasure.
For purposes of what is most familiar to me, I will use a heterosexual example, but feel free to use whatever is applicable to you.
Anyone can put their head between their partner's legs and pleasure them, just as a man can put himself inside of a woman and they can both be pleasured. Or they can just go at it like two jack rabbits.
That's pleasure, sure, but really it is just two humans doing what humans were designed to do. It is an act, a need being met, and nothing more.
When you are lonely, or sad, or scared, will your mind really revert back to any of that?
Mine wouldn't.
What I want is raw pleasure. It's different than ordinary pleasure. Actually, it's better on every level.
For me, raw pleasure is bearing your soul to another, showing the most true and honest version of yourself, however flawed and imperfect.
It is...
loving each other fully and unconditionally, under any circumstances
being the first person you think about in the morning, and the last person you think about at night
knowing every embarrassing thing about them, and loving them anyway
wanting to be with them, more than anyone else in the world
feeling actual love emanating from them just by holding hands, like you were made to fit together
taking comfort in knowing they will move heaven and earth for the chance to care for you
cherishing them, their mind, their body, their soul, everything
To me, achieving raw pleasure is more important than achieving garden-variety pleasure found in orgasams or penetration. Anyone can do that. It takes someone special to give you raw pleasure.
If I ever find that person, and we are intimate, I am sure it would be the most earth-shattering, ethereal, sweetest experience of my life. Do you know why? Because we would already have the most important part, being raw pleasure. Without that, the rest doesn't really matter.
I think what I would like the best, though, is afterward. When I could lay with Mr. Wonderful, wrapped up in his arms, my head on his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep. Feeling safe, and loved, and adored, and treasured. With our hands intertwined, just like they were in the beginning.
Maybe Mr. Wonderful doesn't really exist. Maybe I am going to end up a 40 year old woman with 5 cats. Maybe Mr. Wonderful will turn out to be my soon-to-be-ex husband after all, but by the time I realize it he will be with another woman.
Or maybe he does exist. Maybe he is somewhere, just as damaged as I am, and when the time is right for our paths to cross, they will.
I have already planned out my three nights a week when I won't have my children.
After work, I will to the gym, and take Poe (the puppy I plan on adopting) out for a long walk.
Maybe I will stop by the antique market, or grab dinner with a friend.
I have my mediation circle. And yoga, too.
I've been trying to play Wonderwall on my ukeule for a year now, and am working on a quilt.
Of course there will be housework, meal preps, grocery shopping, grading papers and planning lessons. My professional aspiration is be Teacher of theYear one day.
I might even work on my Master's part time, in History, or English Literature.
I have even contemplated possibly self-publishing Wigs and Things, once I have enough entries, and donating any proceeds (if someone actually ever pays to read my writing) to Metavivor.
Honestly, I don't even know when Mr. Wonderful would fit into the equation.
That's the thing, though. I am not looking for Mr. Wonderful. I am looking for time to myself, to heal, to grow, to get to know the new woman I am becoming.
After years of growing, birthing, and nourishing three babies, developing cancer, having the most sensitive parts of my body poked with biopsy needles and felt up by every medical professional east of the Mississippi, being cut, having nerves unattached, reattached, microsurgery, lymph nodes removed, poisoned, radiated, broken bones reset with little more than a shot of lidocaine, is it really any wonder that I don't want a physical relationship? Is it any wonder that on my child-free nights, the most appealing thing in the world to me is to get in to my cozy bed early with comfortable pajamas, a good book or Netflix, and cuddling up with my new puppy?
And when the time is right, when I am settled in to my new life, maybe I will meet Mr. Wonderful.
Maybe he will hold my hand as we take Poe out for a long walk, and help me look for inscribed 19th century books at the antique market.
Maybe he will come with me to the movie theater to watch a scary movie, and I will rest my head on his shoulder and we can share popcorn (assuming he likes butter and salt on his, like me).
Maybe after I know he is the one, I will introduce him to my children, and my son will want him to help build Lego sets, and my daughter will draw him a thousand pictures, and my toddler will want to throw a ball back and forth to him. And he won't be deterred by my children. In fact, he will think they are as amazing as I am.
Or maybe Mr. Wonderful will live far away, and I won't see him very often at all. Maybe when I do, I will have butterflies in my stomach, but not the nervous kind. The kind you get when you are happy, and excited, and bursting with joy just to be in someone's presence. The kind that stir up something beautiful inside of you, that reminds you how extraordinary it is to be alive.
Maybe one day, when the time is right, I can find limerence and raw pleasure after all.
It's called limerence.
Surviving cancer made me realize I was missing limerence from my life. I have lots of love, certainly, but not limerence.
It made me look at my marriage like how I look at my breasts; everything looks perfect on the outside, but upon closer inspection something that was once there is not there anymore.
In essence, my marriage has become like my missing nipples.
Now do I need nipples for my breasts to function? No. They can fit into a bra, and live on my chest quite comfortably without nipples, thank-you-very-much.
Do I need limerence for my marriage to function? No, not really. As my eventual ex-husband said, ''Maybe that magical feeling you want doesn't exist. Maybe no one has that. Isn't it enough for us to just love each other, and be happy, and raise our family together?''
I think that magical feeling does exist. I think people do have it. And no, it isn't enough to just love each other, and be happy, and raise our family. I want limerence in my life. In fact, I need it. It only took having cancer to realize that I didn't have it.
''Are you even still in love with me?'', I asked one day. I asked this because of various actions, or inactions, which occurred while I was sick, and had broken my wrist. I felt someone who was in love with their partner would have acted differently.
''Well, that's not an easy question...'' was the reply.
When someone devotes 12 years of their life to you, travels the world with you, relocates to a new city and creates a home with you, bears children for you, and then asks, after surviving a life-threatening disease, if you are still in love with them, for me, that would be the easiest question in the world to answer. The fact that it wasn't told me everything I needed to know about my marriage.
It was over.
That brings us to raw pleasure.
For purposes of what is most familiar to me, I will use a heterosexual example, but feel free to use whatever is applicable to you.
Anyone can put their head between their partner's legs and pleasure them, just as a man can put himself inside of a woman and they can both be pleasured. Or they can just go at it like two jack rabbits.
That's pleasure, sure, but really it is just two humans doing what humans were designed to do. It is an act, a need being met, and nothing more.
When you are lonely, or sad, or scared, will your mind really revert back to any of that?
Mine wouldn't.
What I want is raw pleasure. It's different than ordinary pleasure. Actually, it's better on every level.
For me, raw pleasure is bearing your soul to another, showing the most true and honest version of yourself, however flawed and imperfect.
It is...
loving each other fully and unconditionally, under any circumstances
being the first person you think about in the morning, and the last person you think about at night
knowing every embarrassing thing about them, and loving them anyway
wanting to be with them, more than anyone else in the world
feeling actual love emanating from them just by holding hands, like you were made to fit together
taking comfort in knowing they will move heaven and earth for the chance to care for you
cherishing them, their mind, their body, their soul, everything
To me, achieving raw pleasure is more important than achieving garden-variety pleasure found in orgasams or penetration. Anyone can do that. It takes someone special to give you raw pleasure.
If I ever find that person, and we are intimate, I am sure it would be the most earth-shattering, ethereal, sweetest experience of my life. Do you know why? Because we would already have the most important part, being raw pleasure. Without that, the rest doesn't really matter.
I think what I would like the best, though, is afterward. When I could lay with Mr. Wonderful, wrapped up in his arms, my head on his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep. Feeling safe, and loved, and adored, and treasured. With our hands intertwined, just like they were in the beginning.
Maybe Mr. Wonderful doesn't really exist. Maybe I am going to end up a 40 year old woman with 5 cats. Maybe Mr. Wonderful will turn out to be my soon-to-be-ex husband after all, but by the time I realize it he will be with another woman.
Or maybe he does exist. Maybe he is somewhere, just as damaged as I am, and when the time is right for our paths to cross, they will.
I have already planned out my three nights a week when I won't have my children.
After work, I will to the gym, and take Poe (the puppy I plan on adopting) out for a long walk.
Maybe I will stop by the antique market, or grab dinner with a friend.
I have my mediation circle. And yoga, too.
I've been trying to play Wonderwall on my ukeule for a year now, and am working on a quilt.
Of course there will be housework, meal preps, grocery shopping, grading papers and planning lessons. My professional aspiration is be Teacher of theYear one day.
I might even work on my Master's part time, in History, or English Literature.
I have even contemplated possibly self-publishing Wigs and Things, once I have enough entries, and donating any proceeds (if someone actually ever pays to read my writing) to Metavivor.
Honestly, I don't even know when Mr. Wonderful would fit into the equation.
That's the thing, though. I am not looking for Mr. Wonderful. I am looking for time to myself, to heal, to grow, to get to know the new woman I am becoming.
After years of growing, birthing, and nourishing three babies, developing cancer, having the most sensitive parts of my body poked with biopsy needles and felt up by every medical professional east of the Mississippi, being cut, having nerves unattached, reattached, microsurgery, lymph nodes removed, poisoned, radiated, broken bones reset with little more than a shot of lidocaine, is it really any wonder that I don't want a physical relationship? Is it any wonder that on my child-free nights, the most appealing thing in the world to me is to get in to my cozy bed early with comfortable pajamas, a good book or Netflix, and cuddling up with my new puppy?
And when the time is right, when I am settled in to my new life, maybe I will meet Mr. Wonderful.
Maybe he will hold my hand as we take Poe out for a long walk, and help me look for inscribed 19th century books at the antique market.
Maybe he will come with me to the movie theater to watch a scary movie, and I will rest my head on his shoulder and we can share popcorn (assuming he likes butter and salt on his, like me).
Maybe after I know he is the one, I will introduce him to my children, and my son will want him to help build Lego sets, and my daughter will draw him a thousand pictures, and my toddler will want to throw a ball back and forth to him. And he won't be deterred by my children. In fact, he will think they are as amazing as I am.
Or maybe Mr. Wonderful will live far away, and I won't see him very often at all. Maybe when I do, I will have butterflies in my stomach, but not the nervous kind. The kind you get when you are happy, and excited, and bursting with joy just to be in someone's presence. The kind that stir up something beautiful inside of you, that reminds you how extraordinary it is to be alive.
Maybe one day, when the time is right, I can find limerence and raw pleasure after all.
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