Trying too hard.

One of the perils of francesanddaniel's relationship is our lack of actual physical time together. Although we spent a lovely evening together Friday night, the end result can be summed up with the title of this post.

Let me explain. First and foremost, I got to spend 2 hours playing proud girlfriend as D hammed it up onstage at his local theater. He was fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that they will be doing encore performances in the future. I wanted nothing more to throw my arms around his neck and cover his face with sloppy kisses when he exited from backstage. Sadly, we hugged, he kissed my cheek, and we snuck out the back door to avoid scrutiny. I digress, he was terrific and I wish I could send you all out to see the show, but back to the topic at hand.

We retired to the hotel room for a the few hours we would have before he needed to head home. We shared champagne and I gave him a much needed/deserved back rub. We talked. We laughed. We just generally enjoyed each other's company. And then things kinda went downhill.

I had mentioned in my last post that we were going to have a bit of a belated Valentine celebration. There was even jewelry!

Daniel is so good at picking me shiny things that I love. What a sweetheart! Once again, I digress.

So we were celebrating and of course had talked ourselves into a sexual frenzy before we met. Sexy pictures were sent. Naughty words were texted. And yet, when the time actually came, we might have been better off just curling up together for a nice long snuggle.

Don't get me wrong. The intimate time we spent together was terrific, as always, but we were both tired and slightly under the weather and he had just expended 2 hours worth of energy doing his self proclaimed bad "Barney Fife" impersonation. Needless to say, we were beat. Yet we tried. And tried some more. And then we switched positions and tried again. AND again.

So to sum up, it wasn't the doggy style that was bad, or the missionary, the cuissade, or cowgirl. These are positions we've perfected and they are thoroughly pleasing to all our naughty parts, but nothing seemed to be able to give us that second wind enough to orgasm. We unsuccessfully tried some rough stuff as well as a little anal play and in the end Daniel filled me full, after which we collapsed together in a sweaty, exhausted heap, but my question is: was it worth it?

That question is a bit difficult for me to answer. Of course, any time I spend with his hands on me is worth it, orgasm or not. But were we just trying to prove something? To ourselves? To the idea of what Valentine's (or any celebration) should be? What purpose did trying so hard serve? I want to say it made us feel closer, but I can't. I felt the closest when he spooned behind me all warm with his hand in the perfect spot on the curve of my hip. So why did we persevere when clearly it wasn't "working". In truth, I can't say.

Perhaps it was a bit because when we REALLY want sex we can't always have it. On account of the state of affairs, when we we are horny and ready to go, we can't actually always be together. So when we CAN be, we try to make up for lost time and it usually works. However, this time I think we could have better connected if we had curled up in bed with the TV on and acted like an old married couple. Because that's what we'll do when we live in the same house and share the same last name.