Sex, Love, & Applesauce: A Letter To My Libido
Sex, Love and Applesauce explores the complexities of maintaining a healthy relationship with your partner while the majority of your focus and energy are being devoted to parenthood. So hold on to your matrimony and buckle those car seats.
Dear My Libido,
I hope this note doesn’t seem too out of the blue. I know it’s been a while since we spoke, but we were once so close and I was really banking on you remembering me. I want to first acknowledge that our time apart has been mostly my fault. Not sure if you remember, but you and I worked so well together that I’ve actually had two kids in the past four years. That second one was all you – my husband and I weren’t even trying to get pregnant. Thanks, by the way. I’m honestly not sure when I would have felt “ready” to be pregnant again, so your spontaneity really helped everything work out for the best.
In fact, your spontaneity is what I miss most about you. You had a way of turning a boring old movie night into half-a-movie night or a sunset walk on the beach into a thrilling romp in the sand. You had the power to make me feel sexy and wild and strong. Our friendship was largely responsible for many of the more electric moments in my life. Nothing is the same without you.
Which is why I’m writing. I want you back in my life. Let me give you an idea of what things have been like since our apparent break-up. And perhaps I should start off by saying I’m probably not even the best person to write this letter. Talk to my poor husband. He’d have a few words for you. I believe his estimate of the number of times I’ve initiated sex in the past five years was three. Three times in 1,825 days. I think that’s a little low, but I have no way to confirm these figures. The point is, I go to sleep hoping the love of my life doesn’t want to touch me. I’ve actually muttered the words, “please don’t look at me” in the hope that he’d subliminally hear me and oblige.
On the plus side, and this would happen with or without you, every time we start fooling around, I can get excited. Some part of me is able to let go and just have fun. But, oh, what I wouldn’t give to once again have a friend like you encouraging me towards the physical act of love.
Do you remember when we were in college? Because of you, I walked around like I was straight out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. Whether dressed in a short skirt or a pair of those ubiquitous pajama pants, you gave me the confidence to put it all out there – to believe that I was desirable. I didn’t need to jump in bed with every guy who made me feel that way, because your presence in my psyche was enough. You were just right in about a thousand different ways. Never overbearing, perfectly assertive, and willing to let our buddies Self-respect and Morals have a say.
I’m ready for you to come back and spice up my life again. If it’s promises you need, then let’s make a deal: I will always listen to you. If you say it’s time to go, and my mommy-brain is yelling in my face about needing sleep or the thinness of the walls and ceilings in our house, I will tell her to shut up. And listen, if it’s fear that’s kept you away – the possibility that you might be held responsible for another pregnancy – well, my husband got a vasectomy a couple months ago. So we’re pretty well covered on that front.
What I’m saying is, there’s no reason for you to stay away. I understand why you chose to lay low for a while, but now we’re approaching ridiculousness. No offense, of course, I just want to assure you in every way possible that I am ready for you to come back. I need you in order to feel whole as a woman. I need you so that I can care less about my saggy tummy all the time and start relating to my breast as “fun bags” again, instead of “milk jugs.” It’s time. Whaddya say?