Have you ever made love with someone and then punched them in the face minutes later after laying with them in the glow of pleasure?
Very few people make love to cause pain because that’s not its purpose, nor its intended result.
So why do some judge the lover who can’t meet their needs, as someone with an intentional goal to inflict harm?
I don’t think real lovemaking can align its arrows to a specific emotion, and I believe this is why finding true love makes some of us crazy.
The ones who seek pleasure first may undoubtedly be surprised that such joy has pierced their hearts with a love they’d not been prepared to receive.
The experience leads me to think of birth, and there is no scripture, instructor, or medical professional that can adequately prepare a woman for the experience of birthing a child.
All will use experience, storytelling, and science to suggest how the mother might position her spirit, body, and mind. Still, when she is pushing, all she knows is what that moment is engraving upon her soul, and it isn’t anything she will ever find the words to express adequately.
The observer will see and hear tears, and may or may not be numb to the sight of such frequent waters, but for the woman, something of her has officially died, to allow something else to live.
Seeking pleasure first is a risk that says I want and need to feel loved, so am willing and eager to risk that you may not be the person that will bring success to my heart’s feeble search.
Sharing love in any capacity comes with the risk of being hurt, but one’s ignorance of that risk does not make the other person responsible for their potential pain.
Ignorance does not equate to a surprise fist in the face. If it feels that way, it is an indication that a lesson needed to be learned, which must be separated from another’s intentions.
We may love many people, yet find that only one we want to love again and again. It is beautiful when both feel this way, but it doesn’t mean life acquiesces to emotions, or that emotions acquiesce to life.
I sometimes wish I didn’t know what making love was, or that I didn’t know what it felt like to take but one risk to find gold that I would need to leave in the cave, to pretend I didn’t realize it was there. I wish the sense of yearning would go away, and that my soul would see fit to let go of the idea of loving again. I wish the pain of birth didn’t remind me of the joy of living so much that desire to birth again still lives. I wish I’d had more time, more moments to prove I was real, and not a painful reminder of apparitions. I wish life didn’t feel so lonely and that giving one’s heart away wasn’t viewed as a deliberate sneak attack to steal another’s soul.
I wish I’d never hurt anyone with my words or actions, but we can’t take anything back. So if we’ve loved someone for a moment, or let someone love us, it brings peace to leave our love with them, and keep the love they’ve left with us.
For everything that hurts, we can choose to let it go, to believe lovemaking wasn’t intended to bruise our egos, but shared to lighten the weight of our hearts.
None find permanent gross injury who choose the peace of eternal sexual healing