Never too many kisses

I’ve learned so much in the last few days. It all started with thinking about sex… intimacy really. What is accomplished through copious amounts of sex in a marriage? Tenderness. I want tenderness in my life. I need tenderness in my life. I’ve been a crusty, reckless, hurtful person enough of my life so far. I want peace and tenderness now… within me, in my relationships, in my present and in my future.

It’s not so much that I crave intercourse. I’m not seeking hot, sweaty, marathon, chandelier-swinging sex on a near-constant basis. I desire gentle body contact-- extended hugs or slow dancing moments of intimac-- and whatever else that leads to. It’s more about the intimacy and less about the ecstasy—the emotional versus the physical stimulation. Why? What’s the reward? I know that when I have a great afternoon talking with my best friend, my disposition is influenced long after we go our separate ways. The love that is poured out in those times of sharing, spills over into the rest of my day and interactions with other people and my perspective on things. I love that! Call it the ripple effect of intimacy or “aftershocks of love”. I want to extra doses of love to spill over into the rest of my life. Happily, I haven’t been a bump on a log waiting for a spouse to come along to create those moments. I share very loving one-on-one time with several close friends, mostly women.

Thinking about tenderness made me wonder why I yearn for such megadoses. Perhaps it has to do with “emotional bruises”. Until recently I’ve been in denial about how much “bruising” I’ve suffered in my past, particularly with men. It seemed ideal to simply “get over” negative experiences… and not look back. It’s the “not looking back” that forms the nutshell of denial. Just because I insist “I’m fine” doesn’t mean it’s true. No, the bruises seem to linger as long as they aren’t tend to. They diminish. But they linger and haunt like old neglected wounds… ghost pain surfacing from time to time. What’s the cost? Much like a bruised leg may cause a limp, emotional bruising can influence actions, choices, and behavior patterns. Instead of drifting through life like a zombie, I should be purposeful in my actions, right?

Sifting through scar tissue and scabs is not a fun exercise. Admitting weakness and error, realizing you’ve been taken advantage of and abused seems to undermine one’s sense of self. To the contrary, all that exploratory surgery leads to the unveiling of a more authentic (self) portrait. I’ve always been ok with having flaws. It’s actually a relief to know that I’m not perfect. I’m a little surprised by how far wrong I can be but there’s relief in dispersing the haze of denial. It’s kinda like getting your taxes done. Even if you don’t get a refund, at least it’s DONE. Back to tenderness.

So now the yearning for tenderness seems like intuitively reaching for anti-venom after a snake bite. It’s a kiss for every boo-boo. Hopefully one day there’ll be more kisses than boo-boos. But as life unfurls, dispensing trials & tribs, you can never have too many kisses. Right?