I try to be careful with my words, as much as I know I do on occasion misuse them. I try to let my actions speak for me more often than not, knowing what empty words can do.
I also try to time things very carefully. Or at least stay mindful of when not to say something. Part of that includes the fact that I try not to say much affectionate right after sex and play. When brains are high on bonding chemicals, and endorphins are floating around. I don't want those words to feel like they're only coming from that altered state, but rather that they are created organically, and from built connection.
I want words to have the most meaning. I don't want to take advantage of those compromised states, and while I know I should give words of affirmation more often, I don't want them to be repeated to the point of being empty.
The problem with not wanting to say such things after sex and play is however, that Lux and I have a ton of sex. And those windows in between, we're usually trying to get something done, so we have focus on that. It's a strange thing to balance, as you can guess.
And so, as we snuggled in bed, after having sex for some number of times that night already, and about to get another nap worth of rest to recharge for inevitably more sex, Lux was sure to move in a way that he could get a blanket out from under him so that I could have some covers. While half asleep, and high off sex, he remembered those random things like how I need some sort of covers to sleep. Made sure I was taken care of in the process of coming down.
There have been many times before that I talk about small gestures speaking louder than grand ones, and this was an absolute example. Despite not wanting to say anything while feeling those endorphins in my brain, words fell out of my face. They weren't a lie in any way, but something that I hadn't expected to just say in that moment.
I'm happy I did though. I need to tell him more, and in moments like those. To speak out of appreciation for such little things, rather than for security or apology. Just often enough to keep the meaning strong.
Something to work on over the year.
I also try to time things very carefully. Or at least stay mindful of when not to say something. Part of that includes the fact that I try not to say much affectionate right after sex and play. When brains are high on bonding chemicals, and endorphins are floating around. I don't want those words to feel like they're only coming from that altered state, but rather that they are created organically, and from built connection.
I want words to have the most meaning. I don't want to take advantage of those compromised states, and while I know I should give words of affirmation more often, I don't want them to be repeated to the point of being empty.
The problem with not wanting to say such things after sex and play is however, that Lux and I have a ton of sex. And those windows in between, we're usually trying to get something done, so we have focus on that. It's a strange thing to balance, as you can guess.
And so, as we snuggled in bed, after having sex for some number of times that night already, and about to get another nap worth of rest to recharge for inevitably more sex, Lux was sure to move in a way that he could get a blanket out from under him so that I could have some covers. While half asleep, and high off sex, he remembered those random things like how I need some sort of covers to sleep. Made sure I was taken care of in the process of coming down.
There have been many times before that I talk about small gestures speaking louder than grand ones, and this was an absolute example. Despite not wanting to say anything while feeling those endorphins in my brain, words fell out of my face. They weren't a lie in any way, but something that I hadn't expected to just say in that moment.
I'm happy I did though. I need to tell him more, and in moments like those. To speak out of appreciation for such little things, rather than for security or apology. Just often enough to keep the meaning strong.
Something to work on over the year.
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