365 Nights (30 page)

In the old days, the stars might have been aligned in our favor: A great day with Brad would lead into a great evening with Brad would lead into a great intimate tryst with Brad. Accidental or not, one good thing led to another and we ended up with a nice intimate bond. But this past year, I had to align the stars myself. I couldn't wait on luck, a free moment, or let's face it, some nice wine. I learned that lifelong intimacy requires a kind of cushiony kindness and gentle awareness that allows us to come together and into a welcoming, safe, and intimate place.

Some people love to bake because baking is all about preciseness. There is little room for improvisation because baking is really a science. A cake rises because all the ingredients blend together to work in
exact
proportions. If you follow a baking recipe with meticulous care, measure out the ingredients with accuracy, and follow through with faithful diligence, you can bake the perfect soufflé. As my girlfriend, who is a great baker, once said, “Baking isn't that hard . . . you just have to pay attention and always, always, always follow the directions. ” And then there is cooking. Cooking is a bit looser, it allows for a bit more creativity, and it's open to translation. We probably all start a pot of chili with the same basic ingredients but then we rely on our wits and our personal palate to finish the pot to our preference. Well, you know where this is going . . .

Marriage is, of course, more like cooking. We are all working off the same recipe, but we improvise and invent and create something that tastes good to us. And while I love jalapeño peppers, you, not so much. So to match up two individuals in a committed relationship and blend wants and needs and expectations into something with just the right flavor, well, I can only say that we're each on our own.

But my girlfriends are looking for a number. Girls like to benchmark. We should exercise three to five times a week; we should eat two to three servings of fruit each day; a few glasses of red wine weekly; a cut and color every eight weeks; a mammogram and Pap annually. Numbers provide a yardstick against which we can measure ourselves, our health, our efforts . . . but our relationships? Is there a perfect recipe, so to speak: How much sex is enough sex to keep your marriage and your partner happy? So here's my recipe for making your own little intimacy stew. The magic number is . . . drumroll please . . .

Twice whatever you're doing now.

That's right. However often you're doing it, double it. And six months from now, double it again. Intimacy with our spouses should be at the top of our list all the time, and if we're doing something wack-a-doodle like doubling the amount of sex we're having, it means we're force ranking it and it will always be at the top of the list. (And for all you bakers who want the exact measurement . . . well, I'm sorry to tell you you're going to have to figure that out for yourselves.)

And if that just sounds too crazy, don't worry about it. I mean, what do I know? I'm just some kooky gal who aspired to have sex every day with her husband for a year . . . clearly, I'm deluded.

I recently saw in a movie that the reason we get married is because we need someone to bear witness to our lives. That we need someone who can testify to our living, our experiences, to the fact that we were, indeed, here at all. Regular intimacy with Brad is bearing witness up close and personal and is proof that we were not only here, but also alive . . . and very together.

Well, how about it!

Afterword

Dear Reader:

It always bugs me to hear a really great story (and I'm hoping that's what you thought this was) and still have questions. Some famous literary biggity wiggity out there might say that's exactly what makes a good piece of writing—it leaves you with unanswered questions, it prompts you to ponder and reflect, it keeps you up at night with niggly little points.
Ach
, who needs that, girls? We all need our sleep now, don't we? Besides, sometimes I simply need things all tied up in a nice little bow so that I might move on to the next thing. Closure, even a wee bit, is a good thing.

So this is where Brad and I are today:

First, I must report that we are not having sex every day. It was mostly fun for a year (remember May?), but alas, readers, not a long-term gig for me nor, it ends up, for Brad. I think Brad put it perfectly when he said, “Sex every day is not a sustainable model. But neither is sex hardly ever.”

Which leads to my second point. I am happy to report that we are intimate a whole lot more than “hardly ever.” And that is a very, very good thing for the both of us. It's warm, it's fun, and it's created an opportunity for comfortable dialogue regarding that elephant in the living room we called intimacy. Case in point: Brad and I were actually discussing our revised “intimacy schedule” after we ended our daily intimacy schedule in July.

“I think we should schedule it—how about every Monday, Wednesday, Friday?” I offered, the planner in me coming out strong with my hand poised and ready to pencil in a little “s” on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in my Kinko's calendar. We had decided that three, maybe four, times a week would be a good number.

“I think we should just go with it and see what happens,” Brad responded. “After a year of daily sex, a little spontaneity might be nice.” Well, he had a point. A little “fly by the seat of our pants” in the L-O-V-E department would be a
bit
of a change. Scheduling intimacy every day for the last 365 days put it at the top of the list, for sure, but made for few occasions for impulsiveness.

But
I know the power of intention can be greater than the power of impulse (which is why exercising on impulse doesn't work for many of us, right?). So we've created a little intimacy hybrid. Brad rolls along on the spontaneity train and I'm secretly penciling in opportunities to ensure we stay on track. So far, it seems to be working—no tension, no awkwardness, no wondering when or if we're going to “do it” this week. Brad might initiate something after a great dinner out and I might turn to him during a commercial of
Project Runway.
“Hey, we haven't had sex since Monday . . . wanna?” It's all good.

Third, we are happier. While I don't think it's possible to float on cloud nine every minute of every day (unless you're on a Vicodin and chardonnay cocktail or something), we are a happier, more connected couple. I would have told you our marriage was in a good place before, but this kind of giant shared experience can't help but be transforming. It's like scaling a mountain you've never scaled before. I simply had no idea how beautiful the vistas would be. I'm more open to intimacy and Brad is less gaming for it because we have a better understanding of each other's needs and priorities. And when you team up on that kind of project, it's not so hard to team up on doing the dishes, managing the kids, and getting the cat fixed.

And finally, what in the heck possessed me to write a book about this?

Yes, well, I certainly did not set out to write a book about daily intimacy with my husband. I'm a middle-aged, part-time working mom of two living in the 'burbs. There is nothing remotely special about me (surely you know that by now) except for the fact that I can throw a mean dinner party and that I tried to have sex every day for a year with my good-natured husband, who was quite happy to oblige. I've never written a book before, I'm not a professional journalist or an English major (all you English majors out there, please be gentle with me). I've published some essays locally, but they were in the Junior League magazine, for crying out loud, which means I wrote them for free. And while I've discovered in this process that nearly half of America aspires to write a book, never in a million years did I think I would write one about intimacy. I mean, come on! Neither, of course, did my parents. In fact, when I (finally) shared the news with them, my mom exclaimed with delight, “I just knew one day you would write a children's book!” Not exactly, Mom, but thanks for the vote of confidence. And my dad? Well, he's still working through it.

But over the course of the year I was so amazed at how this experiment resonated with women I've spoken with that I thought it would be good to share my experience. It seems that we all share the same frustrations, challenges, and issues regarding sex and intimacy with our spouses. Jean Anouilh said this: “To say yes, you have to sweat and roll up your sleeves and plunge both hands into life up to the elbows. It is easy to say no, even if saying no means death.”

Well, after all is said and done, that's what I did. I said yes to my husband for a year and plunged both hands into my marriage up to my elbows.

Charla Muller
July 2008