Tabitha Sweeney

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From Miscommunication To Connection

A Story Of Intimacy And Self Discovery

1/12/25

We were finally getting away. It was just for two nights, but I didn’t care. I was getting on an airplane, and I hadn’t done that since before the kids were born.

AC and I were heading down to Myrtle Beach for a quick getaway with friends we had recently met. They owned an Airbnb down there and were heading to get things in order for the upcoming vacation season. They had invited us to tag along.

In my mind, I knew how it was all going to play out, and it was PERFECT! In reality, that isn’t exactly how I would describe the trip going, but the realization I had on the trip was heavy and insightful.

I had been consciously working for the past several months on speaking up and asking for exactly what I wanted. AC was consciously working on accepting that it was okay to disappoint me sometimes. This is what I loved most about our relationship—the way we worked together to help each other get to the next level we were striving to achieve.

Anywho, I was doing pretty well at using my words when it came to everything except… S.E.X. And it turns out, when I’m in the mood and whoever I’m with doesn’t make a move the way I want, I can be… well, I can be a real bitch about it.

On this particular day, the four of us had gone out for a great lunch, had a few drinks, and walked around the boardwalk. We headed back to the condo, deciding that we’d all get ready for dinner at six. That left us a few hours to do our own thing.

In my mind, I knew exactly how those few hours were going to go. We would go into our room, snuggle up, and spend a few hours intertwined and naked.

My emotions were already running high as things between us were tense from the night before when my insecurity got the better of me. I wasn’t feeling overly desired, attractive, or loved. In my mind, I knew that him pulling me into bed and wanting to be with just me was what I needed to feel secure with us again. I needed to feel connected.

The problem: I didn’t say any of that out loud.

In his mind, not only had we already had sex that morning, but we had taken a walk and sat on the curb talking. To him, we were already reconnected and fine. His new book was calling to him, and he knew I wanted time to write.

We got back to the condo, and he grabbed his book and headed to the couch to read. I was PISSED and hurt. I grabbed my journal, sat down next to him to start writing, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind was telling me lies, and they were holding all logic hostage. I walked back to our room and began straightening up. Why didn’t he want me? He came in, asked if I was okay, and of course, I said yes. He kissed me and headed back to the couch.

What the actual fuck?

I puttered around for a few more minutes, then called him into the bedroom and asked him to lay down with me, figuring that once he lay down with me, that would be his clue.

He obliged, but no clue was consumed.

I was getting visibly more frustrated with each passing minute. It was obvious in my heavy breathing, the tension in my body, and the fact that I couldn’t find my words. Finally, I got the words out… “Why don’t you want to fuck me?”

He just stared at me and said, “Is that what you’ve been going for since we got back?” Tears in my eyes and a crack in my voice, I said yes, then rambled on about how I just needed to connect and how I felt myself going down the rabbit hole from the night before.

It was in that moment that he looked back at me and said, “Why didn’t you take the initiative?” The words “I don’t know how” came tumbling out of my mouth, and I realized what the problem really was. The problem that had been a point of contention in all of my relationships but that I had never been able to identify was finally showing itself again: I don’t know how to initiate sex with the man I love.

Holy fuck.

This is big, and with every big revelation comes big feelings.

THE TAKEAWAY:

We could look back over the past ten months and identify more than a handful of times we have experienced just this scenario. I told him about the times we crawled into bed and I would kiss him and start rubbing his neck and back only to be met with snoring.

When he starts rubbing my back and shoulders, it gets me in the mood faster than anything on the planet. So I just assumed the opposite would also be true. It wasn’t. The effect it had on him was relaxing him enough to drift into catching up on some long overdue sleep.

So I asked him point blank, “What should I do to initiate?” And with a coy little smile, he said, “Walnut, I’m simple… I can read a room… All you have to do is unzip my pants.”

I just stared at him. I had no words. If he ever walked up to me and simply unzipped my jeans as foreplay, he would be wearing a black eye.

So there I had it. Twenty years’ worth of embarrassment, shame, anger, insecurity, and frustration, and the answer was just that simple. Unzip his pants when I lean in for a kiss. If that isn’t a game changer, I don’t know what is.

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