You’re sitting at a bar when you look over and see this couple. Or should I say THAT couple. You can’t miss them. Their roaming hands and mouths and sultry stares. Their dinners untouched as they practically consume each other whole.
You feel disgusted. Offended. Mad, even. You think, How vile! How vulgar! Get a room, Jesus. They’re breaking a cardinal social rule: That you don’t DO that in public, period. They’re “misbehaving,” and you would never. You’re at once awash in repulsion and superiority.
But the fact is, you can’t tear your eyes away. Because you’re jealous. I know, because so am I. Scratch the surface of that haughty judgment, that disdain, and what you find is pure, unadulterated envy. Because there’s not a person under the sun who doesn’t want to be that irresistible to someone, who doesn’t want to have at someone with wild abandon. And the superior feeling of judging that behavior isn’t nearly as satisfying as being the object of it. (But go ahead, keep telling yourself it is.)
They shouldn’t be allowed to do that–why? Because you don’t feel allowed to do that, to access the part of you that’s starved for that kind of attention. No one who’s been in a relationship longer than two years–screw that, one year, is doing this.
Chances are the ones you see doing the heavy petting in the back of a restaurant are new lovers, two people having a discreet and passionate affair, or one of them has been recently sprung from the slammer. They’re crazy about each other and they won’t hide it. I wish I could get caught up like that, to feel set ablaze by the slightest touch and consumed by the fire of sheer, unalloyed lust. And so do you.
That fever pitch of passion doesn’t last, say the experts, says the research, says you. What a handy excuse for not keeping it alive! If you expect it to just die off, dry up, there’s a pretty good chance you’re right.
I’ve been there. Prudently sipping a glass of dry red across from a man who barely moves the needle on my pulse anymore. Partly because I stopped trying. I probably even tried to get him to agree with me (“Aren’t they so gross?”), further ensuring that this is something “we” would not do. That “we” are above, or past it. But the fact is, we were just about done
Except you’re wrong. I’m wrong. If passion goes by the wayside, it’s because you’ve let it. Because you’ve decided it’s not important. Until one of you–either you or your partner, decides it is, and finds someone else to do it with.
“But I hate that!” you squeal. “I would never want to my (husband, partner, lover) to be all over me like that. I have class, damn it!”
So–what? You wouldn’t dream of going out to dinner without underwear on, or touch your partner under the table while wearing a devilish grin? Because you should.
Don’t tell me what a lady you are or what a gent he is. You can get a guy to do anything. You could probably get him to fuck you right in the middle of a Shoney’s during Sunday brunch.
And yet, perhaps you’ve wondered, How can I keep a guy interested. How?
This is how. Engage in a little PDA. It’s really not that fucking complicated. Sure, you need communication and connecting and all that goes without saying (and you also want to be sure you don’t learn the hard lesson Lesley learned on The Bachelor). But you’ve got to keep the sternos lit. You control the thermostat (because when you cool over, it’s over). You don’t keep it hot by wishing he or you were different. You have to act differently. You have to remind him of why you were drawn to each other to begin with.
Sure you can wear something sexy, but it’s not about the clothes. You must make it clear you’re hot for this guy and that you’re unafraid to show it. It’s about making it clear you want him, period. Right here. Right now. Stick your tongue in his ear. Send him a text during a group dinner saying what you want to do to him when you get home. Just do it.
Forget straying. He won’t be able to balance his checkbook.