Sometimes I wish people were more like dogs or cats. If we were more like dogs, we’d all be people pleasers who greet each other with a friendly butt sniff. If we were more like cats, we’d all be equally selfish and experience great pleasure from sticking our buttholes in each other’s faces. Either way, our personalities would be a lot less complicated, more compatible, and having a butthole would make everyone a winner.
Unfortunately, people are all so different, and just because we all have a butthole, does not mean we all love ass play. This makes finding a mate quite challenging. I’ve wasted many years with the wrong guys, and reading self help books about love. Of course, I had to experience the duds in order to appreciate and discover who and what would work for me in the long term. I just wish I had thought to go to the library self help section instead of dropping hundreds of dollars at Barnes and Noble on titles like Why Men Love Bitches and How To Be An Adult In a Relationship.
It turns out I needed to find someone who had similar interests and a similar outlook on life. Maybe that’s not a necessity for everyone, but I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t agree with me most of the time. I hate to admit this, but I was the person in high school who lost their shit in debate class, and then spent my early twenties in coffee shops, arguing with regulars about politics. I think there’s something fundamentally wrong with a person if they disagree with me. I’ve managed to tone it down over the years, when I realized I was annoying everyone, including myself. Rather than getting angry, I just respond with mild shock and outrage. Maaaybe not my best quality, but unfortunately, like Larry David, I pride myself on my obnoxious character traits.
During my years of shitty relationships and self help, I came across a book called The Five Love Languages. It’s written by some guy named Gary and I’m pretty sure he believes in Jesus. I’m not a religious person, but I’ve had my fair share of exposure to the Christian faith, so any mention of God in this book didn’t really bother me. I say if you want to be a good Christian, great, just don’t make me accept Jesus into my heart.
Actually, I already did accept Jesus into my heart…when I was about 9 years old, because my mom’s super Christian boyfriend at the time told me that if I did, the angels would rejoice in heaven, in my honor. So I whole heartedly accepted! Who doesn’t want that kind of validation?!
After that, I was extraordinarily stressed out because my dad wouldn’t accept Jesus into his heart. I was like, “Um, dad! If you don’t accept Jesus into your heart, you’re gonna go to hell. HELL, like, the worst place ever.” I thought I had a very convincing argument, but he didn’t seem swayed.
Luckily, my mom broke up with the Christian guy, I didn’t have to go to children’s church anymore, and I could stop worrying about my dad’s ill-fated soul.
Anyway, back to my original point about the 5 languages of love…it’s a pretty insightful book. The idea is that we all show our love to people in 5 different ways, as is implied by the title. Typically, the way in which we show love is also the way in which we feel loved by others. For example, I have two love languages – acts of service and physical touch. I like to give and receive, but if I’m completely honest, I mostly like to receive.
With acts of service, I like when my husband does menial tasks for me, such as fetching a glass of water or making me a delicious and nutritious meal. I can literally be moved to tears of joy when he takes apart the toilet and scrubs every nook and cranny without my asking him! It happens about once a year, but it is truly a delight. Sometimes I go too far, for example, when I ask him to tuck in the sheets on my side of the bed, when he’s already under the covers on his side. He knows when to say no, though, because he has a backbone, and that’s why I love him.
As for physical touch, well I am a glutenous, bottomless pit for any kind of non sexual (although that’s nice too) physical touch, and it doesn’t have to be from my husband. I enjoy anything from a hefty foot rub to a body oil rub down that lasts for hours. If a stranger on the street offered to give me a shoulder massage, I would accept. If a friend or family member gives me a brief, loving squeeze on the shoulder, I will bow my head in ecstasy in hopes that it will turn into a lengthy massage. I’m a physical touch WHORE.
According to this book, if two people are struggling to feel loved in a relationship, they most likely have contrasting love languages. In theory, once you’re aware of someone’s love language, you can show them love in a way that they appreciate, and vice versa.
It’s a nice idea, but basically it doesn’t fucking matter. The relationship is either going to work, or it’s going to be too much work, and ultimately end, depending on each person’s threshold for pain and misery. I think most of us have a hard time finding a person that doesn’t make us miserable. Like they always say, “there’s someone out there for everyone,” unless you’re an exceptionally miserable asshole, in which case the chances of lifelong happiness with one person are pretty slim.
Thank the Lord I found someone who thinks the way I do, so we don’t have a whole lot to disagree on. He’s not an asshole, and neither am I (not that I’m aware of anyway).
It just works.
As for where we stand on ass play? Ummmmmm, that’s none of your business!