Love and Sex

I have never been able to dis­tin­guish emo­tion­ally between sex and love. I tend to joke that I’m such a girl, need­ing an emo­tional con­nec­tion with­out which a phys­i­cal one sim­ply doesn’t sat­isfy. There have been times I wished I could sep­a­rate sex and love but in the end I am who I am and I have grown used to me.

Every time I enter my lover I fall in love with her again. Maybe I am a roman­tic sap, but being invited and wel­comed into her very body is mag­i­cal to me and in itself an expres­sion of love. Is there really a greater ges­ture of acceptance?

Every moment of inter­ac­tion between a man and a woman in a rela­tion­ship is sex­ual. Pas­sion may ebb and flow and you may not be think­ing of pen­e­tra­tion and orgasms, but we are still not abstract androg­y­nous beings when out­side the bed­room. We are still pri­mal males and pri­mal females. I will always be aware of her scent, of her shape, of how her body opens to me, of what makes her so delight­fully dif­fer­ent from me.

Love and sex are inex­tri­ca­bly linked for me. As I step through the gate of the hang­ing gar­dens of Baby­lon and I fall in love with their end­less beauty and laugh with joy from finally hav­ing come home, I will still dig my fin­gers into the earth, I will still eat from the ripe, suc­cu­lent fruits offered me, juices run­ning down my jaw, I will still bury my nose in the fra­grant folds open­ing for me each dawn.

I don’t need sex more than love. I don’t need love more than sex. I need them equally because to me they are the same.