Last week, Shannon Bradley-Colleary, wrote an article on Generation Fabulous about surprising her husband by wearing nothing but high heels to bed.
Shannon writes about sex a lot, sometimes even about sex after 40. I wish I could write about sex like Shannon does, but I worry too much about what people will think.
A Pseudonym for My Pseudonym?
read devoured Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy. As far as the amount of sex goes, 50 Shades of Grey is to Sleeping Beauty what the old coin-operated pony ride in front of the grocery store is to Disneyland. The entire book is sex, sex, sex, and then there’s more sex. If you ask me, there’s not near enough romance, and it has way too much male homoerotica and pony play (if you don’t know what that is, don’t google it!) for my tastes, but to each their own, I suppose.
Written under the name, A.N. Roquelaure, Rice explains in the prologue that she wrote Sleeping Beauty under a pseudonym because she wanted the artistic freedom to explore erotica without the pressure of her Interview with a Vampire fanbase. She also did not want her father to read her sexual fantasies. I totally understood and wonder if I maybe I need a pseudonym for my pseudonym.
Rising to Shannon’s Sex Challenge
Shannon’s challenge for the ladies of GenFab was for us to surprise our husbands by going to bed wearing only high heels. That seemed simple enough. I’d recently won a pair of Louboutins at the One 2 One Network party in Chicago when I was at BlogHer 2013. Okay, the truth is that my Louboutins started off their gorgeous little lives as Manolos.
I’ll never forget that moment when Barbara Jones, handed over the beautiful purple Manolo suede pumps. (For some reason they photographed blue, but they were purple in real life.)
Sadly, the Manolos were a skosh too big. When I attempted to exchange them, Neiman-Marcus was out of purple in my size.
As I shopped around, I stumbled upon the iconic black patent leather Louboutins Neofilos 120mm.
I called my husband.
“Honey, should I just cash out my winnings and come home $600 richer, or should I pony up the $200 difference and buy the Louboutins?”
He replied, ”You’ll probably never have another chance to own an $800 pair of shoes, honey. Of course you should trade in those Manolos and get the Louboutins! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Well, that’s what he would have said if he’d answered his phone. But since he didn’t, I just filled in what I was sure he’d have said, and went with that.
Shannon’s challenge to us to wear high heels to bed finally gave me the perfect place to try out my new Louboutins. I wouldn’t even have to worry about scuffing up their pretty red soles.
But then, just as I was planning for how I wasn’t going to stab my husband in the eye with a 4.72″ stilleto, I stumbled across two posts about the importance of date nights for a long term marriage. Barbara Torris wrote an article about a date night she had with her husband of 53 years, riffing off a piece done by Vikki Claflin on the same topic.
While Barbara and Vikki’s articles were very funny, down-to-earth, and true–to-life, they also made me a bit sad. Eventually, do we all end up trading in our shiny Louboutins for a pair of practical and comfy Easy Spirits?
Mating in Captivity
2012 was the Year of Decision in my marriage. After serious soul-searching, we each decided we couldn’t live without the other, but we couldn’t live with each other as we had been. So with everything and nothing left to lose, we headed off to all sorts of counseling together.
One of our counselors had us read Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence by Esther Perel. More theoretical than practical, Perel explores the challenges to erotic love in a long term, committed relationship. Perel’s thesis is that, while a stable marriage demands commitment and safety, erotic love requires an element of uncertainty and risk. Perel says that this eventual loss of danger in a committed relationship is why long-term marriages inevitably lose eroticism.
Preparation for Date Night
It’s tough to sneak on a corset when your husband is getting dressed and wants into the bathroom with you, so I holed myself up in our walk-in closet under some pretense, worried the entire time he’d walk in and ruin the surprise.
Confession: I haven’t worn a corset since my surgery over a year and a half ago. I wasn’t even 100% sure I was ready to wear one yet.
As I struggled in our hot closet with the corset’s eyes and hooks and laces, it came back to me how much of a pain in the ass they really are to get on by yourself. Just when I considered giving up on this silliness, a vision popped into my mind of my husband’s bright blue eyes flashing dark and black, along with that sly, naughty grin he would get when he realized what was really going on.
I am so entirely grateful that my husband reciprocates with all of the best reactions when I go out on a limb this way. How embarrassing to go to all the effort of putting on a damned corset and not having your man drooling at your feet. I do always worry a little though. What if tonight’s the first time he says, “Yeah, a corset? I thought maybe we could just watch Breaking Bad and go to bed early.” I guess that’s just one of the risks you have to take if you want the erotic.
Finally, with more than a little bit of effort, I wriggled myself into my little black corset, pulling hard on the laces for maximum effect. Who needs breathing anyway? Since we were going out to dinner though, I did sit down on the dressing room chair just to make sure that I could without passing out.
Next came the black seamed stockings. Having been reduced to tears before trying to get seamed stockings attached correctly to garter belts, I was grateful I had a pair with the sticky stuff at the top that holds them up without the blasted belts. Even so, I fiddled with the damned seams for what seemed like forever to get them straight. Getting your seams straight isn’t the easiest thing in the world to do when you’re bisected by a very tight corset that doesn’t allow you to take a full breath. What we do for love!
I donned a skirt and a sweater, modestly concealing my secret sexy attire, before slipping my feet into my gorgeous new Louboutins.
It took a moment to seat my feet correctly in the shoes before I felt the deep satisfaction I always get when I put on a pair of very sexy high heels. Wearing extremely high heels is an exercise of mind over matter. And like a distant whistle from a train that I know is coming, I know my days of getting to experience this exquisite feeling are numbered.
One day will be the last day I can put on high heels, just like one time will be the last time I will ever have sex. I’m going to miss it all when it’s gone.
I adjusted the corset, fluffed my breasts, and checked my seams one last time. Pronouncing myself ready, off to dinner we went.
As we drove to the restaurant enjoying mindless chatter, I felt a heady breathlessness that was more than just the fact that I couldn’t really breathe.
I smiled thinking about the moment when he discovered my secret. I was surprised actually that he hadn’t noticed yet, but I’d purposely avoided letting him get a good feel of me before we got in the car.
With all my traveling lately we both missed each other very much. He charmingly turned on the romance while I was slowly simmering in the seat next to him.
At dinner, I drank one glass of wine too many and began to feel giddy. As the restaurant emptied, we began to talk in earnest. And then the words that I had no intention of saying bubbled out of my mouth, “I have a crush on another man.”