Once upon a time, only royalty could afford the sensual elegance of silk and satin sheets. So me being a princess, at least in my own mind, I longed for some. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself reclining in a glamour shot pose on red or black satin sheets. In this picture, I would be wearing a beautiful peignoir like those women on Dynasty and Melrose Place. Lying next to me would be my spouse, gazing lovingly into my eyes, just before we got buck wild. In my fantasy, there would be no potato chip or cracker crumbs from eating snacks in bed, or cat hair, like in real life.
This fantasy came true when my husband and I returned to the states after having spent three years in Okinawa with the Air Force. We had accepted an invitation to spend a few days with friends in San Francisco, before heading to our new duty station. Like most, our hosts gave up their bedroom where the lady made up the bed with a brand new set of red satin sheets straight out the package. How had she known about my fantasy?
Giddy with anticipation, I jumped into the shower with my thoughts on what was ahead. I imagined the dazzling colors of love with someone I adored. Later, we would hold each other close, bathed in the afterglow of lovemaking so good, that afterward, the neighbors on both sides of the condo had to have a cigarette. Alas, this is where fantasy and reality collided, BIG time.
It started with his pillow sliding to the floor with a skidding sound; my pillow followed next. You've heard of Kung Fu fighting? This was more like Kung Fu lovemaking. First, the sheets felt like ice against my naked flesh. OUCH! POW! There went my elbow to the ribs when I tried to hug him! Alas, my sensual kiss missed his mouth altogether and we ended rubbing noses. Now I have heard that this is the way that Eskimos do it, but hey, to each his own. This, however, was not part of my fantasy.
During one point in our love dance, I busted a move that my spouse must have thought was sexy. I watched the hazel in his eyes change like it does those times. In truth, I was trying for a position that I hoped would keep me from flying across the bed. I don't care what others think, falling out the bed on my head, is not considered foreplay, at least not for me. But to each its own.
Then, my leg cramped up from trying to find a comfortable position, and it took a minute to rub the cramp out. Needless to say, neither of us got any sleep that night. Or anything else. The result was, we both woke up looking like something a few of our kitties dragged in over the years.
Through the years, I’ve discovered that each stage of life brings with it its own set of expectations. The texture of love is certainly no exception. In the beginning, it was satiny smooth, full and rich like the deepest chocolate.
Other times, love is as rough and rocky as the tide. Although it has been many years, I can still recall those ‘tear the roof off’ moments of our youth. And, from time to time we revisit them. If for nothing else, to prove to ourselves that we can after four and a half decades of marriage. For so many, after years together, the best kind of intimacy is soft and tender. The kind one gets from someone familiar and dear.
Much like cotton or flannel, it's comfortable, natural...durable. So, as we indulge ourselves with fantasies, quite like mine about satin sheets, too often we are reminded that everything that looks good, isn’t. When it’s all said and done, I take comfort in the knowledge that I am okay being cotton percale, or even flannel, in a satin sheet world.
Excerpt from Random Notes by Author Carol Gee
Military Veteran|Columnist|Motivational Speaker
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