Windy City

I've noted in a previous post how thoughts tend to wander more frequently and unfaithfully than usual when I travel for work, and that this tendency evidently isn't unique to me. This tends to be the norm, not the exception, and the extent of the wandering is usually influenced by the state of affairs back home when I left on the trip.

I spent a few days in Chicago this week. Not all the dust had settled on some money disagreements we'd had the week before, but I'd noted that it was perhaps the first time (at least in a long time) that we'd scuffled over a major point and divorce hadn't automatically appeared on my menu of possible resolutions. So I'd felt encouraged that we were in pretty good shape. But on the eve of my departure, in response to my wife's question as to why I was a little grumpy with her, I made the mistake of replying honestly:

Me: It has nothing to do with the parking ticket you got yesterday. (A $75 citation for having parked in a handicap spot, her defense being, "But I was only there for 10 or 15 minutes!") I'm a little annoyed by this article, and a little annoyed at myself because I've let it annoy me.

I then handed her the magazine in which the article appeared. Here's an excerpt:

Americans have undergone a second sexual revolution over the past two decades, embracing a much wider variety of activities in the bedroom, a new survey has found. The National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior, conducted by researchers at Indiana University, interviewed nearly 6,000 people. The responses revealed that, while vaginal intercourse is still the main event, “the sexual repertoire of Americans has sort of expanded,” Michael Reece, lead author and the director of Indiana University’s Center for Sexual Health Promotion, tells the Los Angeles Times. Acts that society once frowned on, such as oral sex and masturbation, are now practiced by large majorities. Indeed, close to 90 percent of men and women under 30 report having given and received oral sex. “It’s nice to have this validation of just how much the sexual repertoire is changing," said Reece. “Many people struggle with the conceptualization of what a normal sex life looks like."

Unfortunately, the article also discussed rates of non-heterosexual experimentation among men and women as well as other activities that go beyond the "basics" described above, which became the initial focus of her response and served to obscure the big-picture.

Her: (disbelievingly, more irritated than disgusted) So what, am I supposed to be heterosexual?

Me: Heterosexual?

Her: I mean homosexual.

Me: That's not really the point of the study or what I'm talking about. I'm talking about our physical relationship being really...really...

Her: Boring?

Me: I don't want to say 'boring' so much as...vanilla-y. With the exception of our little tryst in the car up the canyon this summer, which came out of nowhere [she initiated it] and ended up being really remarkable, it's all slight variations on the exact same theme, and with the exception of an occasional encounter in the shower, it's

Her: I like it to happen in a place where I feel comfortable and closed off from the rest, where it won't get messy. I don't want to do it on the kitchen table [we never have] or in a plane [we never have] or on the roof [we never have] or under a tree in a park [once, early in our marriage] or in an old cathedral in Italy [once, early in our marriage -- long story, but important to note that it was a medieval building that had previously served as a church, but had long-since been decanonized or whatever that undoing-of-holiness process is called]. Especially when we have kids in the house and rarely get away together.

Me: I'm not talking just about locations. I'm talking about variety and interest in general.

Her: Because you've got weird ideas about sex.

Me: I'm probably not the best one to judge whether they're weird, but I can assure you that the vast majority of men, including men whom you know and admire, would say that they'd like more variety in their sex lives with their wives, not less.

And so on.

This is perhaps the best opportunity to advise new L.D.S. husbands: I know that many of you arrive at the honeymoon suite with two to three decades of pent-up sexual curiosity percolating in your loins. DO NOT attempt to indulge it too aggressively, creatively and/or quickly with your bride, or you will forever be discredited and future attempts at forays in those general vicinities will stir up deeply-seated memories in her of having felt during those early days/months/years like a blow-up doll in your shop of iniquity.

Anyway, this was my send-off to Chicago. After a long day meeting with bankers and lawyers, my boss and I checked into our hotel. When I travel for business, I stay in places I generally couldn't afford (or at least wouldn't choose to stay in, for the price) if on personal travel...although a few more such getaways might help to address some of the issues here -- but is that in effect bribing sex from my wife? At any rate, they're always very nice places and never lacking in the finer finishing touches, but this place was particularly luxurious, with a huge, marble-lined bathtub under a wall-length mirror, crisp, high-threadcount sheets, a great view of the city at night, etc., all of which makes me, because I'm an unholy man, think about having sex -- sometimes with my wife, sometimes with the attractive woman I saw at the convention or the cafe around the corner or on the lobby. On this occasion, it was the woman who had ridden up in the elevator with us and gotten off on our same floor. As my boss headed to his room, I had lingered at the intersection of the halls and watched until she went around the last corner. My thoughts flowed along these lines: That last hallway spur just has four rooms in it -- what if I were to knock doors? Is occupancy low enough that she may be the only one in a room down there? What would I say? What would she think of my suit? Should I smile more? Is she away from home and inclined toward some play (let's call it a NCO or non-committal orgasm, in the spirit of trusty ol' NicMO) like that woman in the George Clooney movie? Is there some law against that type of solicitation? Would it create a ruckus and my boss find out? Would that be the final collapse? Is it worth it? Would I use my real name? Would I hide my wallet? What if she accepted and came to my room? Would I dim the lights or would we want to see everything? Is she disease-free? How would I ask that anyway? If she asks the same of me, and as proof I tell her I've only had intercourse with my wife, would that guilt her into changing her mind, or would it arouse her further? Would we wear a condom? Do they have those at the concierge? Would we bathe together afterward? Would she stay for an hour or all night? Would she know what my garments are as we took them off? Would I shake and cry or perform? At what point would I tell my wife?

But I just fell asleep in the big throne of a tub watching Portland beat the Clippers on opening night.

My first night in town, I stayed with my eldest sister. I was struck by what a tough life that is, to be raising those kids on her own, and wondered: Under what circumstances I'd want to condemn/doom my children to that? How bad would it have to get?