Polarity isn’t always something that comes naturally. But if we want to stay attracted and attractive to our lovers, if we want to continue building sexual tension and chemistry, healthy polarity is a requirement and an art that takes practice.
I don’t need to be loved in my romantic relationships. I love myself enough. What I really want from my lover is to be inspired. I can be inspired by everything from physical beauty to creative brilliance. Inspiration is what wakes up my attraction to another.
My man has a brilliant mind. He is a bad ass backgammon, black jack, chess and bridge player, whose name is known all over the world and who has taught eccentric icons like Hugh Hefner. In the bedroom, however, his genius is subtle. I have to really listen to catch the gold nuggets in his off-the-cuff quirky commentary. This morning he says to me, “You are the only thing in my life I can’t figure out. I’m going to just pretend you are money, ‘cause I know how to make money.”
Since I want to learn more about making money and my man wants to learn more about making love, I get a crazy idea.
“Let’s play a game, “I say, “that I’m money and you’re the master of me.”.
Unsure, but willing, my man consents, sitting on the bed, waiting for my lead.
I dance for him, taking on the shiny, sparkly character of money, feeling the power of being the object of everyone’s desire and my ultimate powerlessness and nonexistence without it. Oozing with the sensual confidence of Marilyn Monroe, showing off every curve, then dropping to my knees in desperate wanting and self loathing.
My man doesn’t see the inner dance. He only sees the outer one.
He sees a sort of mad seductress he’s not sure what to do with. But then he remembers, “He’s a master of money.” He gestures for me to come to him and I crawl slowly across the floor. He stands, holding out a hand for me, telling me to stand up with him. When I’m on my feet, he spins me around and into his arms. For a moment, I am breathless, looking into his eyes. He is no longer the man I thought I knew. He is a mystery.
“I got you,” he says, raising an eyebrow above a sexy check mate smile.
Then he dips me, raises me up and drops me again on the bed.
“Stick around kid,” he says. “I’m full of surprises.”
