He Comes Next by Ian Kerner Page A
Authors: Ian Kerner
became involved in affairs, fell in love, left their wives, married the women they were cheating with, and then ultimately complained that their new relationship was not exciting anymore.
What went wrong? Did the newness of the relationship wear off? Was the passion largely driven by the sense of danger? Do we only want what we can’t have? Do we prefer the thrill of the chase over the actual attainment of the object of our desire? Is there any way to sustain sexual excitement in a long-term committed relationship? Or are we basically a society of serial monogamists with a fundamental need to refresh our love lives periodically? In short, is there such a thing as a “right person” or “soulmate” with whom we could enjoy everlasting passion?
The ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes conjectured that, at the beginning of time, man and woman comprised one creature. Split apart by the Gods, we were left to search for our other halves. This search, Aristophanes opined, lies at the very core of love. But is love primarily driven by the desire to find our other halves rather than keep our relationships whole?
Remember in my introduction when I said that I’d asked scores of men to describe the best sex they’d ever had? For most of them, it was with their current long-term partners. But it was usually at the very beginning of the relationship, when the sparks were flying.
When asked to describe what made the sex so amazing, however, many drew a complete blank. Sure, she may have been enthusiastic in the sack or known her way around a penis, but no, that’s not what made it great. What made the sex memorable was the excitement they felt for the other person at the time. And it wasn’t limited to a single experience, but rather to the period of time in which the sex was truly amazing, the early days of infatuation.
So I asked this group of men another question: “Is the sex still great?” Here, I received many “yes, buts.” Yes , they still enjoyed sex (once or twice a week, if even), but no, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it used to be. In some cases, the sex had become more affectionate and intimate. But in many instances, it had become flat out boring. Virtually all of the men surveyed said it wasn’t nearly as hot or wild as it was in the beginning of their relationships.
So often did these words, hot and wild, come up, that I felt compelled to ask another question: “In five words or less, describe hot, wild sex.”
“Unpredictable, spontaneous. Exciting, new.”
“Heart-pounding. Like skydiving.”
“Sweaty, dangerous. Going all night.”
“Like night driving without headlights.”
“Uncontrollable, unstoppable. Totally raw.”
“A shot of adrenaline.”
Then I asked, “In five words or less, describe the sex you’re having now.” Here’s what the same men said.
“Tender, affectionate.”
“Loving. Nice.”
“Safe and familiar. Reassuring.”
“Consistent. Predictable. Pleasurable.”
“Boring. A chore. Same old.”
When I asked the guys what had changed about sex over the course of their relationship and why it wasn’t still as hot and wild, again, many of them drew a blank. Nothing, they said, had really changed. Perhaps that was the problem.
Sex had become reduced to its rote, physiological components, shorn of its emotional and psychological dimensions, narrowed down to a thin and predictable straight line: beginning, middle, and end. One guy summed it up perfectly.
Sex used to be a jaunt down the yellow brick road: exciting, unpredictable, a Technicolor explosion of sensation and emotion. But now that I know the wizard is just a bald, little man, the journey’s just not as much fun. Why go to the effort of clicking my heels when I’m already home?
Rarely, if ever, do I hear the complaint of boring sex from couples who have just met or are in the early stages of a relationship. (I do, however, meet plenty of couples who
What went wrong? Did the newness of the relationship wear off? Was the passion largely driven by the sense of danger? Do we only want what we can’t have? Do we prefer the thrill of the chase over the actual attainment of the object of our desire? Is there any way to sustain sexual excitement in a long-term committed relationship? Or are we basically a society of serial monogamists with a fundamental need to refresh our love lives periodically? In short, is there such a thing as a “right person” or “soulmate” with whom we could enjoy everlasting passion?
The ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes conjectured that, at the beginning of time, man and woman comprised one creature. Split apart by the Gods, we were left to search for our other halves. This search, Aristophanes opined, lies at the very core of love. But is love primarily driven by the desire to find our other halves rather than keep our relationships whole?
Remember in my introduction when I said that I’d asked scores of men to describe the best sex they’d ever had? For most of them, it was with their current long-term partners. But it was usually at the very beginning of the relationship, when the sparks were flying.
When asked to describe what made the sex so amazing, however, many drew a complete blank. Sure, she may have been enthusiastic in the sack or known her way around a penis, but no, that’s not what made it great. What made the sex memorable was the excitement they felt for the other person at the time. And it wasn’t limited to a single experience, but rather to the period of time in which the sex was truly amazing, the early days of infatuation.
So I asked this group of men another question: “Is the sex still great?” Here, I received many “yes, buts.” Yes , they still enjoyed sex (once or twice a week, if even), but no, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it used to be. In some cases, the sex had become more affectionate and intimate. But in many instances, it had become flat out boring. Virtually all of the men surveyed said it wasn’t nearly as hot or wild as it was in the beginning of their relationships.
So often did these words, hot and wild, come up, that I felt compelled to ask another question: “In five words or less, describe hot, wild sex.”
“Unpredictable, spontaneous. Exciting, new.”
“Heart-pounding. Like skydiving.”
“Sweaty, dangerous. Going all night.”
“Like night driving without headlights.”
“Uncontrollable, unstoppable. Totally raw.”
“A shot of adrenaline.”
Then I asked, “In five words or less, describe the sex you’re having now.” Here’s what the same men said.
“Tender, affectionate.”
“Loving. Nice.”
“Safe and familiar. Reassuring.”
“Consistent. Predictable. Pleasurable.”
“Boring. A chore. Same old.”
When I asked the guys what had changed about sex over the course of their relationship and why it wasn’t still as hot and wild, again, many of them drew a blank. Nothing, they said, had really changed. Perhaps that was the problem.
Sex had become reduced to its rote, physiological components, shorn of its emotional and psychological dimensions, narrowed down to a thin and predictable straight line: beginning, middle, and end. One guy summed it up perfectly.
Sex used to be a jaunt down the yellow brick road: exciting, unpredictable, a Technicolor explosion of sensation and emotion. But now that I know the wizard is just a bald, little man, the journey’s just not as much fun. Why go to the effort of clicking my heels when I’m already home?
Rarely, if ever, do I hear the complaint of boring sex from couples who have just met or are in the early stages of a relationship. (I do, however, meet plenty of couples who