Suffering can transform your attitude from "Grow up, loser!" to "you dear person, I understand why you might feel the way you do."

My mama raised me right and I grew up very sheltered when it came to dating. Sheltered in a good way. I dated sweet boys in high school who kissed me passionately but did not push for more.I knew most of my classmates were having sex, but I wasn't, and I formed a tight solidarity with a few friends from church who weren't having sex either. In an effort to overcome our feelings of counterculture and to resist peer pressure, we developed this snide prideful attitude that said "We're better than those losers who are having sex." Perhaps that pride kept me from the backseat of a Chevy. God only knows. But that prideful sense of "we are better than them" has just been wiped out--twenty years later.

That's what this post is about.

About 3 months ago, I started dating. And it was awful. I've written several posts about my foray into the dating scene and I have yet to post any of them. Don't know if I ever will. My experience with dating men I met on two online matching services  made it very clear to me that if I wanted to get laid, my date would be oh so happy to comply. Keep in mind, I had Jesus all over my profile and my search criteria indicating I only wanted to be matched to other Christians. About 85% of the men I met online expected some kind of sexual behavior on the first date.

This appalled me.

This shocked me.

This angered me.

and finally, this humbled me.

It humbled me because it tempted me, and admitting to myself and to my spiritual director that I was tempted was one of the most humbling moments of my life.

It has been 16 months since I got laid. It was my then husband. It was makeup sex during our attempt at reconciliation. It was a long long time ago.

One of the most frequently asked questions I receive from husbands who shop at my store is "Will the toy replace me?" and I always assured them that no it would not. I could now write a whole article on this. Because I have the finest toys to choose from and I am quite skilled in giving myself pleasure and sheer physical relief. It's a skill I learned from our sex therapist when I was married. And I can assure you, toys will not replace a human lover. Not even close. You could survive the rest of your life on Cliff bars, but would you want to forego actual food and survive only on Cliff bars? Every day? No, you would not. While I'm grateful for the physical relief I can give myself, the longing that brings me to tears is the desire for a husband and lover who will touch my heart and my body at the same time.

My point is this.

I know the depths of loneliness and touch deprivation that would make an offer of pleasure--from a man telling you how hot and fabulous you are that you can have as much or as little as you want from him--I know the depths of loneliness and touch deprivation that could make such an offer tempting. Heartbreakingly tempting. Humiliating temptation.

Humiliating because I was forced to surrender my prideful attitude of twenty years ago that said, "I'm better than those losers who are having premarital sex".

This temptation was offered to me. By the mercy of God, I didn't take the bait.

How did God's mercy rescue me?

God's mercy showed up for me in the form of a George Michael song that was wildly popular back when I was in high school. A song I heard on the lam because my parents would have had a heart attack if they knew their daughter watched a music video of George Michael waving his beautiful bluejeaned ass on the television screen.

I remember how this song inspired loud moral outrage from the Christian community. Faith and sex and organ music and a bluejeaned ass on the screen. How dare!!!!

How ironic. It would be hysterically funny if it weren't true. This song saved me from taking the bait from a date who didn't demand anything but instead offered me pleasure on my terms whatever I might choose.

Listen to the words of this song.

Well I guess it would be nice
If I could touch your body
I know not everybody
Has got a body like you

But I've got to think twice
Before I give my heart away
And I know all the games you play
Because I play them too

Oh but I
Need some time off from that emotion
Time to pick my heart up off the floor
And when that love comes down
Without devotion
Well it takes a strong man baby
But I'm showing you the door

'Cause I gotta have faith...

Baby
I know you're asking me to stay
Say please, please, please, don't go away
You say I'm giving you the blues
Maybe
You mean every word you say
Can't help but think of yesterday
And another who tied me down to loverboy rules

Before this river
Becomes an ocean
Before you throw my heart back on the floor
Oh baby I reconsider
My foolish notion
Well I need someone to hold me
But I'll wait for something more

Yes I've gotta have faith...

When what you really want (hot married sex) the erotic equivalent of a fabulous steak dinner is no longer available, and you have NO IDEA when that steak dinner will be available again, and somebody you've barely just met offers you whatever pleasure you choose which is the erotic equivalent of a sandwich and you are so sick of Cliff bars...it is a HUGE act of faith to say, "Nope. I want steak dinner or nuthin. Thank you I'm flattered but no."

Which is what I said.

I have been saved from pride and received mercy in the depth of human need that makes a bad offer tempting. Even better, I deleted my profile and decided to forego dating and hold out for courtship from a good man who really sees me.

I need someone to hold me but I'll wait for something more. I gotta have faith that the man who will be my husband will invite me into courtship in God's sweet time.

I really believe that.

I went to a dance class. I've always enjoyed dance classes and mentioned them in the past. Tonight was the best ever. Tonight was African tribal dance. With drums.

Oh my friggin gosh!

It. was. awesome.

The studio had wood floors and mirrored walls like any other dance studio. But tonight was something special. I wondered why there were men walking into the studio. They were our drum corps! They were there to drum for us! I was amazed at their strength and heart. To pound the drums constantly for 2 hours! While nodding and smiling at us. Enjoying us.

Tonight's dance steps were called...oh shoot I forget the African word...it means the men's dance for "I am strong". Lots of stompin' and kickin' and arm wavin'. I LOVED IT! It was beautiful to see this room full of women doing a tradional men's dance in a distinctly feminine way. We swayed our hips as only women can. The fast arm movements emphasized the curves of our breasts and waist. We were women. We were strong. We were beautiful.

At the end of the class, we form a circle and nearly every woman takes a turn expressing herself by dancing alone in the circle. Some women were rarin' to go and stepped out and took their turn immediately. But some of us, myself included, needed to be called out. One of of the men in the drum corps had strapped on his drum so he could walk around the room as he played. The Drumming Man would walk over to face one of the women in the circle, smile at her, and call her out to dance. Some women were shy and needed to be coaxed. This was okay. Drumming Man kept smiling and drumming until she accepted his invitation. If she demurred again, he would nod and walk on. I was so eager and almost stepped out more than once, but I waited to be called out. To be invited. And when he did call me out, I smiled, and danced joyous tribal circles around Drumming Man. Some women whooped. The dance instructor touched the floor in front of me after I finished. A nonverbal tribal attagirl.

Since I am Irish and Scottish, I have seen women dance to drums at several Highland Games. While some of the steps tonight were challenging to learn, the overall feel of the dance felt very natural to me.

There's something about tonight that's true for every woman. Beauty, strength, movement, joy-they are for all of us.
And a man using his strength to invite a woman into the dance. That's just epic.

Friends helped me pack up my apartment and move to the townhome, and another friend is helping me unpack the emotional and spiritual boxes in my heart. I'm working with a spiritual director and I feel very hopeful and good about it.

I'm especially thankful to God for the prayer I've received on the phone in the past several days.

This song sung by Fernando Ortega really touched my heart.

Meeting the well spouse’s sexual needs when one of you has an illness. Fictional couples Chad and Diane and Sherri and Jim handled this issue very differently.

Chad and Diane

“Come here, you” Diane’s raspy whisper did not sound like her usual voice. A bad cold had turned into bronchitis and Chad had been worried about her. “Mmm right here, Baby” Chad replied. He scooted back to snuggle into Diane as she spooned him. Diane found Chad’s warmth as comforting as the familiar contours of his chest and abdomen as she petted him affectionately. Their breathing settled into an easy rhythm and Chad thought they would fall asleep soon. He hoped Diane would recover soon. Chad hated to hear Diane’s painful cough and he wanted to see his baby well again. Chad also missed his lover. It had been nearly two weeks since they made love and Chad sensed the need for connection and release was making him feel irritable and anxious. He made a deliberate choice to keep the tension from showing when he talked to Diane. He knew it wasn’t her fault and Chad was much more worried about his wife than he was his own needs. “I love her and of course I want her” Chad muttered to himself yesterday, “but how can I think about sex when Diane’s so sick?”

So Chad relished the affection as Diane stroked his chest and as Diane’s hand drifted down inside Chad’s pajama bottoms, he sprang instantly to full attention. “Oh God! Baby, are you sure?” Chad’s voice was a strangled moan as Diane’s hand expertly stroked and teased him in the sweet ways she had learned over the last 10 years of marriage. “Doesn’t it feel like I’m sure?” Diane giggled which set off another fit of coughing. She never lost her grip on her man. Diane kissed Chad’s shoulder blade and whispered,“You can’t kiss me cause I don’t want you to catch this crud, so tell me what you would do to me if I were well.” While Diane’s clever hand kept a good rhythm, Chad described in lurid detail how he wanted to lick suck and tantalize his wife as soon as she was well. Diane made small whimpering sounds of arousal and when her arm began to tire, Chad took over while Diane whispered encouragement. For a few precious moments, they were not the sick spouse and the well spouse, they were a couple.

Jim & Sherri

"You're shivering, babe, can I spoon you?" Jim asked. “I guess so” Sherri’s raspy whisper did not sound like her usual voice. A bad cold had turned into bronchitis and Jim had been worried about her. “I'm worried about you, hon, and I miss you” Jim said. He hoped Sherri would recover soon. Jim hated to hear Sherri's painful cough and he wanted to see his baby well again. Jim also missed his lover. It had been nearly two weeks since they made love and Jim sensed the need for connection and release was making him feel irritable and anxious. He made a deliberate choice to keep the tension from showing when he talked to Sherri. He knew it wasn’t her fault and Jim was much more worried about his wife than he was his own needs. “I love her and of course I want her” Chad muttered to himself yesterday, “but how can I think about sex when Sherri’s so sick?”

Jim scooted forward to snuggle into Sherri as he spooned her. Jim felt close to his wife for the first time in 2 weeks and naturally his body reponded. “Oh please!" Sherri carped, "It's always about the sex with you, isn't it? Go sleep in the guest room if you can't keep yourself from bothering me!!" "Darlin I wasn't trying to..." Jim's voice trailed off. "That's what I get for trying" Jim muttered as he walked toward the guest room.

Oh lovely tired woman.

Sit down here on the sofa next to me and let me tell you something.

The lovely beginning of this journey starts with--oh shoot, lemme let Sara Groves say it cause she says it so fabulously already.

Listen to this, dear ones: (and when Sara says ‘a person’ put your name there instead. I’ll do my friend Cori’s name as an example)

Lovin’ Cori just the way they are, it’s no small thing.
It takes some time to see things through.
Sometimes things change, sometimes we’re waiting.
We need grace either way.

Hold on to me
and I’ll hold on to you
Let’s find out
the beauty of seeing things through.

There’s a lot of pain in reachin’ out and tryin’
it’s a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can’t occupy the same spaces, baby
and only one makes you free.

Hold on to me
and I’ll hold on to you
Let’s find out
the beauty of seeing things through.

If we go lookin’ for offense,
we’re gonna find it.
If we go lookin’ for real love,
we’re gonna find it.

Hold on to me
and I’ll hold on to you
Let’s find out
the beauty of seeing things through.

Lovin’ Cori just the way they are, it’s no small thing.
That’s the whole thing.
Lovin’ me just the way I am, it’s no small thing.
Takes some time, takes some time, takes some time, takes some time.

Loving yourself right where you are. That’s the first step. I believe deep down in my heart that 2010 is your year of a sensuous you. I really truly believe that a series of tiny sensuous miracles will happen for you this year. Being a sensuous you is not a destination. It’s a journey. We’ll go there together. Hold on to me, and I’ll hold on to you. Let’s find out the beauty of seeing things through.

So many times, I read Christian women's blogs talking about sex, they are talking about spiritual reasons to do what they know they should do (make love to their husband) and do it with a servant heart. Now I believe that serving one another in marriage is the real deal. It's very important. But if wives aren't having fun in the bedroom, then serving him can start to feel like martyrdom. And who wants to make love to a martyr? Who wants to be a martyr? I believe that if a woman knows how mindblowing sex can be, she will want to make love on a regular basis.

I want to hold every Christian wife by the hand and say, "Oh darling there are oceans of pleasure available to you! You have sexual needs. Cultivate them! Embrace them! Get in tune with your desires and let your man bless you. You will rock his world and yours too!"

I think he is the real deal.

And I'm fiftykindsofgrateful for that reminder. That gentle nudge back to my calling. And I'll tell you why.

My apartment needs a good tidying. I'm behind on laundry. I'm caught up on sleep, thanksbetoGod. My bills are paid, but I do need to balance the checkbook. My muscles are tight from skipping the gym for the last 3 months. My corporate writing gig, the one I am grateful for, has sucked the life out of me because it has dominated my time. This morning I was praying, "help me reconnect with my SensuousWife mission". And then I read Sheila Walsh's retweet of Randy's question. Why do we have sex? And answers sprang to mind effortlessly. Bing! I was right on track.

The answers I shared were:

• Because the sweaty unladylikeness of sex unlocks something in the feminine heart that needs to be loosed.
• Because when our brain is exhausted, our skin can still speak.
• Because sometimes words fail us.
• Because we are horny.
• To bind our spirit soul and body all together with our mate's spirit soul & body

I'm honored that Randy included my tweets in his blog post here.

So, darlings. Randy's poll is closed, but I'd really like to hear your response. What do you think? What do you feel about this?

Why do we have sex?