Another Way To Make Love
There's nothing new about hooking up. As a sexual-revolutionary, I
practically lived on the Relationship Roller Coaster. Little did I know
that biology was arranging every ride. Like many, I believed I just hadn't
found "Mr. Right," even after I married and divorced. As it turned
out,
the issue wasn't so much who as how.
I started to connect the dots in my thirties, when I experimented with
a little known sacred sex technique -- and learned something
unexpected.
The technique calls for generous affection and relaxed intercourse.
Instead of climaxing, lovers keep melting into a sort of
sexual meditation
until they feel completely satisfied. Over thousands of years, people have
rediscovered this approach, so it
goes by
various names: angelic dual
cultivation, le jazer (cortezia), karezza, the reserved embrace (amplexus
reservatus), and so forth. (More in
future posts.)
The "avoid orgasm" element seemed peculiar, but as much as I loved
orgasm, I was ready to try anything that promised greater harmony. I
was
expending far too much time and energy angsting over my love life.
Early results were mixed. As long as a lover and I stayed with the
practice, we experienced growing harmony and deeper intimacy. But it
was
really easy to drop back into hot foreplay and orgasm. At first,
the resulting pattern was almost too subtle to identify, but after a while
it became exasperatingly predictable. During the days and weeks after a
passion bout, the spark faded. Arguments arose. So did a need for
space.
Both the drive to "fix" the tension with more hot sex, and the drive to
"fix" each other, reached gale force. I thought, "If only he
would...." He
saw me differently, too. Eventually the relationship would crater, and I
would start anew with increased determination.
Very slowly I learned the wisdom of steering around orgasm during
intercourse. The benefits? Some showed up in the bedroom, but many
showed
up elsewhere. We looked cuter -- at least to each other. We stopped
bickering over nonsense. We both felt sexually satisfied, with
no sexual
performance issues. We lost our need for "space." Arguments about "not
doing enough" or "not giving enough" stopped.
Communication struggles
evaporated. We wanted to be together even after our honeymoon neurochemistry wore off.
At some point during this learning curve, my husband joined the quest.
We've been playing with this approach to lovemaking for eight years
now.
It's different, but lighthearted and affectionate. We laugh a lot. We find
each other adorable. In fact, we're so hooked on harmony that
we actually
resent it a bit when orgasm does sneak up on us.
So how can sex affect lovers' outlooks? Esoteric talk about conserving
sexual energy didn't satisfy my physiology-teaching husband, who
delved
into the dark corners of scientific journals. The evidence pointed to a
primitive program related to an ancient part of the brain
common to all
mammals (limbic brain). Chemical messengers produce an "I'm done!" feeling
after a night of passionate sex. The result is a
strong, yet
subconscious, signal. It says, "Mission accomplished!" And, often,
"Who's next?"
Comedian Bill Maher summed it up:
Forget breast implants. It's never about big or little, or short or
tall, or blonde or brunette. It's only about "old" and "new." Hugh Grant
had Elizabeth Hurley at home, and he wanted Marvin Hagler in a wig.
Like it or not, sexual satiety leads to declining attraction--and the
tendency to find novel mates especially alluring. Scientists call this the
Coolidge Effect. Consider this experiment. Researchers took a group of
monkeys and fixed the females so that they were always in the
mood (with
daily hormones). Monkey heaven, right?
Not so much. Over the next 3.5 years the males copulated with declining
frequency and enthusiasm. Scientists then replaced the females
with
different females (also on hormones). The males snapped right back to
their initial zest and frequency...at least for a bit. Mother
Nature
doesn't like unfertilized females.
The Coolidge Effect has shown up in all the mammals tested for it, even
in females. It's hard to spot at the beginning of a relationship, thanks
to the effects of powerful, alas temporary, honeymoon neurochemistry. But
it lurks there, creating tension with our romantic inclinations.
While it may seem cruel, there's a kind of biological logic to this
tension between mating impulses and pair-bonding longings; it ensures that
we bond (on average) for long enough to fall in love with our child
(who benefits from two caregivers)--before becoming restless. This
arrangement serves our genes' objectives of more offspring with more
diversity among them.
It may not serve us, however. Affectionate touch and close trusted
companionship are excellent health insurance. Not only that, when
researchers look at which factors statistically predict human happiness,
"harmonious pair-bond" tops the list.
Perhaps this is why we earthlings keep rediscoving this practice of
frequent, gentle intercourse which side-steps sexual satiety. It's like
learning to diet by eating smarter, rather than struggling to eat less. As
my husband says, "my limbic brain stays enchanted because I don't
attempt
to fertilize you."
Courtesy of
http://www.huffingtonpost.com
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